#but I’m a little taller than Star(by like an inch or 2)

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Prey of Tiger. Ch 2: Little Brother

 There was a knock on the front door of the mayhem’s house. Zoot walks up to the door and opens it. It was Zac with some bags. The little brother had grayish blue skin. His nose was the same color as his older brother’s nose. Zac’s hair was dark red. His hair was spikey on top while the bottom of his hair was curly. 

“Hey, brother!” said Zac with a big smile on his face. The little brother was wearing a black hoodie with a blue star. He also has some gray sweatpants and some old tennis shoes. 

“Hey” replied Zoot with a soft smile. “I’m glad you made it,” he added. 

“Me too” replied the dark red haired male. 

Janice walks down stairs after setting up the guest bedroom. “Oh! Like hi, Zac” said the blonde female with a smile on her face. 

“Hey Janice, how have you been?” replied Zac. 

“I been like good. How about you?” replied Janice. 

“I been good,” replied the little brother. 

“That’s good. I just got done making the guest bedroom ready for you” replied the blonde female. 

“Oh! Thank you so much, Janice” replied Zac. 

“No problem,” replied Janice. She walked away from the two brothers. The blonde female headed into the kitchen to grab a snack. 

Zoot turns over to look at his little brother. “Come on, I will show you up to the bedroom that you are staying in” said the dark blue haired male. 

“Okay!” replied the little brother. The two walk up the stairs and head to the bedroom. The bedroom had this peaceful vibe in it. The colors of the room are the colors of soft warm colors. Zac set his bags down next to the bed. 

The dark red haired male sat down on the bed. He felt the softness of the bed, he loved it. Zac had a soft smile on his face. “This room is great!” he said. 

“Yeah,” replied the saxophonist. He sat down next to his little brother. Zac was a few inches taller than him. 

“I can’t wait to spend some time with you,” said the little brother. Zoot chuckles. 

“Me too” replied the dark blue haired male with a smile. 

Later, the band was watching some TV series. Janice was laying on Floyd’s lap. Lips was getting mad at a character in the show. Animal was too busy with his pet bunny who was eating a carrot from the drummer’s hand. 

Zac walks into the kitchen to grab a snack. He noticed Dr. Teeth were snacking on some chips. The chips were the classics. The dark red haired male sat down next to the ginger haired male. “Hey” said Zac. 

“Hey” replied Teeth as he looked at the little brother. “What do you need?” he added. 

“I was just looking for something to snack on,” replied Zac. 

“Hmm” replied the doc. He placed the bag of classic chips between him and the dark red haired male. 

“Oh! Thank you” replied Zac with a smile. He took a chip out of the bag and took a bite. The salty chip tasted good in his mouth. He got some crumbs in his long goatee. 

“No problem,” replied Dr. Teeth. There was silence between the two for a few minutes before Teeth spoke. 

“You know, you kind of remind me of my little sister,” said the ginger haired male. 

“I do?” replied the dark red haired male. He raised his eyebrow. 

“Yep. You and her are so hyper and happy” replied the doc. He let out a soft chuckle. 

“Ah, I see,” replied Zac with a chuckle. “What is her name?” he asked. 

“Flora” replied Dr. Teeth. The little brother nods. 

“Do you have any more siblings?” asked Zac. 

“Yep. I have two sisters, Luna and Flora. Two brothers, Liam and Xavier” replied the ginger haired male. 

“Wow! That is a lot of siblings” replied the dark red haired male. 

“Yep but I love them with all my heart” replied the good doctor. 

“Good,” replied Zac. “ I love my brother and sister with all my whole heart too,” he added. 

“He is a good older brother and saxophonist,” replied Teeth. A smile forms on the doc’s face. The light shines off his gold tooth. 

“I am honestly happy to have him as an older brother. I don’t know what I would do if he wasn’t” replied the little brother. 

“Same here” replied Dr. Teeth. “Your brother is a good man” he added before taking a chip out of the bag and putting it in his mouth. 

“Yep” replied Zac with a smile on his face. He noticed some blush on the good doctor’s cheek. The dark red haired male started to wonder why there was blush on Teeth’s face. Of course, he wasn’t going to ask about it. 

“Anyway” said the ginger haired male as he got up from the table. “I’m going to see what they are watching,” he added with a soft smile. 

“Okay” replied the little brother before he bit down on another chip. Zac felt his phone moving in his pants’ pocket. 

He wipes the salt and crumbs off his hand on his pants before getting his phone. The dark red haired male unlocked his phone. It was a text message from his girlfriend. 

“Hey babe, I just want to let you know that me and David will be keeping tabs on your youtube channel” said the test message. 

“Thanks. I love you two” replied Zac to the message. his girlfriend and him had gotten into another relationship with a guy, David. The dark red haired male wanted to try out having two lovers. It was great since they all love each other equally. 

[magickalsapphic]

We were both young (when I first saw you)

A Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU

❀ Chapter 2 Posted (3314 words) -- first meeting gets off on the wrong foot..

❀ Victorian AU, Romeo and Juliet AU, horseback riding, farmerboy!Simon, aristocrat!Baz, Davy sucks, gay people 🙏

❀ pls read it & rb :)))

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59023879/chapters/150538249

Chapter 2: Ballgowns and men down

SIMON

I don’t know who invented waistcoats, or if my body is just incapable of fitting into one well, but I completely despise them, even more than these tight plaid pantaloon that won’t let my buttocks breathe.

The clothes I wore at the cottage were always comfortable. The rips and old fabric were part of what made it special. Clothes used to work, clothes used for something. Ever since I started living with Davy, I’ve had to wear the most uncomfortable clothes. Which doesn’t make any sense to me. I am well aware these are supposed to be expensive clothes, but I have no idea where the money is going since comfort is completely off the table.

I guess another possibility is that I cannot bring myself to think of any of this in a positive way. But I rather blame it on the shit clothes.

Agatha has been properly helpful since I met her a few weeks ago. She’s shown me around the etiquette and hasn’t given up even though it’s useless to teach me. Davy gave up almost immediately. Though he seemed undoubtedly happy when I started spending time with Agatha. He was almost nice to me.

This whole situation just sucks arse, but Ebb wants me to see the good in things. I really am trying. And a party can’t be so bad, can it?

“Hello,” I say to the gentleman in front of me after stepping off the stairs. I’m still holding Agatha’s arm, which I feel pull on me. I glance at her and see her bowing slightly. I realise this must be one of the people I should bow to. I hold in a chuckle and crouch my body slightly. Before straightening completely, I look up with only my eyes and for the first time take the sight of him in. He’s at least 3 inches taller than me, starring daggers at me. Upright I feel myself standing way too close to him. Agatha pulls me back a bit, her arm intertwined with mine pressing a little too hard.

“Lord Basilton,” she says in a very soft voice. I can’t help but smirk at the word Lord. And I also can’t help but stare at him as well. He looks like he really belongs here. Basilton. From the name alone he owns this entire place. But it’s not only that, it’s all of him. The way he’s holding the glass of wine. The way he’s standing, completely straight but laid-back. The way his hair is slicked back, while a strand of hair is hanging and framing his face so effortlessly. The way he holds up his one eyebrow and tilts his head to me.

“Miss Wellbelove,” he says without looking at her. 

I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until he asks me a question directly.

“Pardon?” I exhale. 

He gulps, my eyes follow his throat.

“I asked to whom I owe the pleasure,” he says as if my name wasn’t projected to the entire room a minute ago.

I smile, “Simon. Simon Snow. Salisbury.” 

That last one has been difficult to get used to having, let alone saying out loud. He then bows a bit while keeping his eyes on me. I’m still not sure how any of this works, I assume it’s just common manners. There’s a glint in his eyes. Deep grey eyes. They feel familiar somehow, even though I’m well aware I haven’t personally met anyone other than Agatha in this room before.

I'm suddenly aware of how surrounded we are. The room has gone quiet except for the orchestra playing. (They have a whole orchestra.) There's a perimeter around the three of us and I can hear people whispering. I look around and see multiple people stealing glances at me.

Davy told me that my existence might come as a shock to some people, but I didn't expect this much attention, especially in this weird secretive and indirect way.

Agatha notices my nervousness and pats my arm with her other hand. She smiles at me and I can't believe my luck in finding someone so kind.

"If you'll excuse us, we'll like to have a dance," she tells Basilton (I can't get over that name) and pulls me toward the dance floor. I can't help but look back at him. We left him with his mouth half-open in the middle of the crowd. He looks at me and frowns, I smile.

When we reach a good spot, Agatha pulls away from me and takes my hands in hers.

"I don't know-"

"It's all right, Simon. I'll teach you," she smiles and puts my left hand on her waist and takes my right hand in hers. I think there's a waltz playing. I take a deep breath and try to follow her lead, which leads me to step on her feet twice before the first compass ends.

"Sorry," I say again after I step on her for the third time. 

Her face looks constipated now with her lips pressed tightly together in an attempt at a smile. I'm worried this will be her last straw before abandoning me, which distracts me even more and I end up stepping on my own foot and tripping over, dragging her with me. "Oh damning- bloody hell."

The music stops and I hear the guests gasp around me. I can't bring myself to open my eyes at the mess I've made. I don't know much but I am pretty sure it’s not etiquette to swear or to fall in the middle of a dance. I finally open my eyes and the first thing I see is Lord Basilton giving me the smuggest smirk I've ever seen. That posh bastard is enjoying this for some twisted reason. I want to clear that smirk off his face.

BAZ

Simon Snow will be the death of me.

He and Wellbelove walk together to the dancefloor after sharing pleasantries and I am more and more certain. After all these years of replaying his every movement before falling asleep, I could recognize him in any universe. The golden boy who gave me my mother’s lilies. The boy who saved me without asking for my name or a cent.

I, with everyone in this room, cannot begin to comprehend where the hell he has come from. The rumours must already be flying around. From all the whispering around me, I can count at least twenty different stories. Cadwallader is nowhere to be seen and Simon Snow (what kind of name is Snow?) is being stared down by everyone, including myself, struggling to dance with my one chance at semi-freedom. He couldn’t pick anyone else. I’m not even angry at him for this, instead I consider thanking him right here and now just for allowing me to see him up close. I didn’t think I could miss him more than I already did all these years, but a look at him has made this feeling a million times more intense. No. I’m angry at myself for letting this opportunity with Agatha go to hell because I wasn’t quick enough. I’m mad at Fiona as well for not letting me know about this earlier. I don’t stand a chance against him, even in his complete mediocrity. I should just leave now before I embarrass myself for being alone a second longer. I slowly back away to the hall, but before I can put my glass down on the table I hear a loud crash. 

Simon Snow and Wellbelove have fallen right in the middle of the dancefloor. I have never been more certain of anything more than this public embarrassment being completely Snow’s fault (I’ve seen Agatha dance before, and she’s well above average). It was foolish of me to think this was over, it won’t even be a challenge. Snow is staring at me now with a set jaw and a murderous look. My smirk grows. Our staring contest is interrupted by Wellbelove clearly needing some help getting up.

I don’t think twice before I walk over to them. I extend out my hand to her, leaving him mid-standing and fury steaming off his suit. She hesitates for a second before taking it.

“Thank you, Lord Basilton,” she bows slightly. 

I give Snow a side glance. He’s still half on the floor.

“Please, call me Baz,” I tell Wellbelove before raising her hand slightly and giving it a kiss. She raises both her eyebrows. “Do you need a hand as well, Snow?” I look down at him.

He quickly gets up on his own.

“Not needed, Baz.” His eyes are full of fire. I’m doing that to him.

“Lord Basilton,” I unnecessarily correct him.

I hear him huff through his nose but don’t look his way again. Instead, I lean my mouth to Wellbelove’s side and say clearly, “Lady Agatha, if you wish to have a real dance, you know where to find me.”

I walk away from them while adjusting my sleeve and counting my breaths. What am I getting myself into?

SIMON

I bloody hate him.

I just hate him. I know I’ve known him for less than ten minutes but I want to take apart every single thing that makes Baz perfect, one by one. 

“Is he always such a prat?” I ask Agatha as we walk out of the room to get some air. There’s a beautiful fountain with a cherub at the top. This garden would look a thousand times better if it was surrounded by freesias instead of tulips. I make mental notes of every section I’d change from this short path alone as we sit on a bench.

“I honestly haven’t met him enough times to know.” Her hands are playing with her hair and she’s balancing her legs.

“I’m really sorry about—”

“Don’t worry about it, Simon.” Her voice sounds so sad, I find it difficult to believe her.

“If you want you can go dance with Baz.” She looks up at me then and gives me a small smile.

“I came here with you.” I hold her hand and give it a small squeeze.

“Agatha!” I hear someone call from behind. I turn around and see a curly-haired chubby girl in a puffy purple dress coming our way. Agatha quickly takes back her hand to her lap. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“I was going to say hi, before the whole,” she side-eyes me, “incident.”

The girl is standing right in front of us now. She looks me up and down. She puts her hand up, “Hi! I’m Penelope.”

“Nice to meet you,” I try to politely kiss her hand but she aggressively shakes mine before I can lift it. Then she forcibly sits between us, I almost fall off the side of the bench.

“Penelope, he’s Simon Snow–”

“Oh, I know,” Penelope interrupts Agatha. “Everyone’s talking about you. I mean no offence, Sir.”

“Not taken, I guess,” I say. We stay in silence for a moment. I feel very out of place, but I’m glad she’s not elaborating on that.

“Is it true that you’re the lost Salisbury?”

“Penelope!” Agatha says after hitting her arm.

I let out a chuckle. “‘Lost’ is an overstatement. I wasn’t kidnapped.”

“Then, what happened?”

I open my mouth to answer but find it hard to get the words out. I’m not sure what I’m even allowed to say. I’m not sure I know the whole story either.

“You don’t have to answer,” Penelope says unexpectedly, she probably notices my uneasiness. “It was rude of me to ask.”

“It’s all right,” I say, now feeling less heavy. “I’m just not completely sure either.”

“Well, I’m here if you need anything, honestly.” She smiles and stands up. I feel safe with her, oddly. “And Agatha, my family wanted to see you.”

Agatha looks at me with a question in her eyes. I nod, “I’ll be fine. I want to stay here for a moment anyway.”

“It’ll just be a moment.” She takes Penelope’s hand and starts to walk away.

I’m left alone in the garden. I let out a long sigh. I really am not made for balls. And I say that after being in one for approximately five minutes. 

Davy said he’d be here first and would introduce me properly to his peers. I’m not sure how much I wanted that, but it definitely feels worse to be left without a purpose. At least I’ve got a nice view. I get up and start to explore the garden more. Maybe if I go deep enough I’ll find a way out of here without bringing much attention.

After walking across apple trees for a few minutes, I hear two people arguing and recognize one of the voices. Before I know it, I’m leaning against some tall bushes to overhear the conversation.

BAZ

As soon as I leave Agatha and Snow’s side, my aunt corners me half a metre away from a tea table (I am never letting go of this half-empty glass.)

“What was that about?” she says before taking my glass off my hand. She leans her shoulder against the wall, and I mimic her.

“The lost Salisbury is a lost cause as well,” I say without hesitation.

She gives me a weird look.

“You think that’s really him?”

“What do you mean?” I turn my head to her and furrow my eyebrows. “He’s the spitting image of Cadwallader.”

She shrugs, “I guess so, but he’s nowhere to be around. And this would honestly mess things up for you.” She downs the glass and leaves it on a shelf.

“Because of Wellbelove? I don’t think they’re the right pair. She probably accepted coming with him out of pity.”

She snorts and takes out tobacco to light it right across my face. “Oh, that’s not close to the pinnacle of this.”

I wave at the smoke. “You know I find that disgusting.”

“You smoke, too.”

“Outside and every blue moon.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs my arm. We walk through the main door and to the side of the entrance.

“Happy, now?” She takes another drag. I roll my eyes and she passes me the cigar. I don’t usually smoke, but I do feel stressed tonight, so I slowly take a drag and sit on the floor.

“So what else is Simon Snow fucking up then?” I want to stay hopeful. The boy who I’ve fantasized about all these years shouldn’t bring me and my family doom. But, why would I get anything good in this life?

“Firstly,” she sits down next to me. We’re surrounded by bushes, people keep coming to the party, but no one can hear us from here. “Say he marries Wellbelove—you’re fucked. But mostly… Him alone here can open many wounds. I’m not sure what the truth is, but I can’t imagine it’ll be easy.”

“How complicated can one’s existence be?” I feel like a hypocrite asking that, but this also feels stupid.

“Don’t try to find out,” she eyes me with both eyebrows to her hairline. “I’m serious, stay away from him. And Wellbelove, too, for now.”

“You’re not serious! I’m not letting Simon bloody Snow get in the way of getting the West Watford Slot to our rightful name!”

“Lower your fucking voice kid.” She smacks my head and forcefully pulls the cigar back. “I’m going to dance, come back when you have a better sense of self-preservation and learn to let go.”

She leaves me there. I kick my feet against the floor like a fucking five-year-old whose lollipop fell before he could get a taste. What the fuck happened for her to give up my only chance at liberty with a glance at a boy. Because that’s all he is. He’s just a stupid, ordinary boy. What is he even doing here? He didn’t grow up here, I am very, very positive about that. And why does he look so good? And why–

I hear a rattling from the leaves beside me. I turn to my left and see golden curls shining underneath the moonlight, belonging to a boy very badly hidden behind the bushes. I get up and go around them cursing under my breath. He steps back and crouches. His eyes are all scrunched up.

“I can see you, Snow.”

“Simon,” he sighs and stands up. “Sorry, I’ll just—” He points to the left and tries to walk away.

Before he can get away, I pull at his shoulder. “Were you spying on me? I know you must be new here, but that’s commonly frowned upon—anywhere.”

“Is it also frowned upon to use a girl to get a piece of land?” He’s jutting his jaw forward again. It’s disturbing how much I find that attractive.

“You’d be surprised, Snow.”

“It’s Simon!” He shakes his hands in front of him. 

I ignore him. “Did Wellbelove get tired of you already? It didn’t take long.”

“Are you always this mean to complete strangers?” He takes a step closer to me.

I laugh. “You should know our families are the opposite of strangers, Simon.”

“I disagree.” He takes another step closer to me. I wonder if he’ll punch me. I feel like I deserve it and at the same time, I don’t.

“What do you know about that? I’m all ears.” I cross my arms and wait.

He opens and closes his mouth. I raise my eyebrow and both of his hands form tight fists. I ready myself for what’s to come.

“Forget it,” He pushes past me and goes back through the garden. And I’m left alone for the second time tonight.

SIMON

I quickly find Agatha in the crowd. She’s talking to what appears to be Penelope’s family. I walk over to her, ready to tell her I want to go home (or as close as I can at the moment), whether she comes with me or not (I will beg her to).

I’m stopped by a rough pat on my back and a laugh I’ve quickly come to despise.

“Simon, boy. I was looking for you, everywhere!” Davy says. I know he hasn’t.

“Hello, Sir.”

He grabs me by the back of my neck like a puppy and drags me to a group of people I do not want to meet.

“Malcolm! My good friend. Here’s my promised heir.”

“Nice to meet you,” Malcolm shakes my hand a tad tightly. Something tells me they’re not as good of friends as Davy claims. He’s got grey hair and is putting on a wrinkled smile which I can’t pick out its genuineness. His wife does seem pleased to meet me, though. Their daughter, who’s wearing a black dress and dark twin braids, squints up at me and I’m pretty sure I just got cursed from whatever she mouthed at me instead of hello.

I’m trying to find a polite and correct way to excuse myself when Malcolm says the worst thing he could at the moment: “Basilton! Won’t you join us for a moment?”

Baz steps next to me and if I was actually fuming, the whole room would smell of smoke. He grins at me and nods, “Snow.”

“Baz,” I manage to stop myself from saying everything else that comes to mind after his name.

“You’ve met! Isn’t this wonderful?” Davy hugs my side too enthusiastically. “Simon, won’t you get Lady Agatha?” He whispers to my ear. I nod and am glad to leave the scene for a moment.

Agatha gladly comes with me to the group. She holds my hand as well, which I’m glad—for Baz to witness.

“Simon would be absolutely delighted to do so!” Davy says before he notices I’m back.

I clear my throat. I see Baz wide-eyed and glaring at me.

“Simon! You’ll be joining Basilton at the stables this week. Starting tomorrow morning.”

[shivada-jade]

soulmates!

soulmate!au because im weak. you're weak too.

characters: bennett, zhongli, diluc ➡ mentions: barbara, lisa, guizhong, hu tao, kaeya, crepus warning(s): bennett luck (he gets hurt a lot), wrote this at 2:48am so my writing may or may not make sense

bennett: feels the same emotions from the other, but the emotions have to be strong and genuine

he never understood your sudden bursts of sadness. it would come at the most inconvenient at times.

for as long as he could remember, the emotions that weren't his are mostly sad. he asked his dads about it and gently told him his soulmate system is feeling emotions from the other.

after crying from an unknown pain, he made it his soul purpose to constantly be happy all the time, no matter how unlucky he could be so you can be happy too.

his dads worry when he falls down and scrapes his knee, but he would always reply with, "i'm not hurt! my soulmate is hurt!"

he would then clutch the fabric on his chest tightly, like he's been stabbed with a sword and say, "my soulmate hurts right here."

he heaves a breath, "it doesn't compare to whatever luck i get."

"this pain is bearable," he convinces himself when he comes out a hilichurl camp in cuts and bruises.

"your soulmate needs you to be happy for them," he chastises himself for shedding a tear when another adventurer wronged him.

he visits barbara to heal his wounds and asks how she always looks so... happy, so smiley.

"all it takes is one smile to make yourself happy. it can be a slow process but it works!" she singsongs, "miss lisa showed me a study about it."

ever since barbara explained, he smiles the brightest of smiles in mondstadt. he refuses to let other adventurers let him down, worried he might hurt you more than it is.

soon, he finds out that he feels no sadness coming from you. he feels no weight on his shoulders. he feels happy after Good hunter ran out of food for him.

these are not my emotions, he thinks, a wide grin creeping it's way to his face.

he lets out the loudest laugh, giggles, and various joyous noises. he's never felt so happy in his life. for once, he feels lucky, because for once, you're finally happy in the other end of his invisible red string of fate.

his luck skyrockets when he sees a person around his age, with a gorgeous smile adorning their features. he knows its you, sitting by the fountain making wishes. he knows it's you when he sees your eyes that hold so much emotion.

it was as if his heart was tugging him to where you sat.

he's never felt so lucky to have you as his soulmate.

"thank you giving the best smiles"

zhongli: every time he passes his soulmate, he hears the sounds of bells ringing

now, zhongli never thought he would have a soulmate because of his past title of 'archon.' soulmate systems are a tricky thing. he knows there are so many ways to know your soulmate system.

the common system was their first words tattooed on themselves. many others had the ability to know when they meet them, in other words, a count down.

but zhongli never had those two, nor did he have faith in the soulmate system until the lantern rite festival.

walking by the busy streets, he muses to himself how pretty liyue is under the blanket of the moon and stars. he hears the merchants call to customers, attracting and waving at them to buy their products. he hears the clink of the mora in their bag is loud; the laughter from the children young and old marry a soft smile to his face.

he freezes, hearing something that should not belong in the lantern rite. the sound of bells ringing. it isn't any cow bell, or school bell. it's the sound of echoing, melodious wedding bells ringing his ear.

he vaguely remembers his friend guizhong mentioning about this rare particular soulmate system when she still roamed teyvat.

a soulmate!

zhongli stands straighter, eyes grazing on the sea of people, trying to see if anyone stopped to hear the bells he heard. he mutters a few apologies when people bump into him with lanterns in their hands, but that doesn't matter to him.

fate brought someone for him to love. it's just that... he doesn't know where.

he walks forward, he walks backwards to where he came from. he walks to the docks then to the top of liyue harbour, but he can't hear the sound of the bells again.

he doesn't panic. he doesn't rush, because he knows fate will bring you back together. he just doesn't know how long until he'll hear the bells again.

it came to him a surprise when he hears the bells everyday after that.

everyday when he sits at third-round knockout he hears the sound of bells behind him, but when he turns, he knows you've left already.

he sighs, blowing on his tea before taking light sips. it seems he won't be meeting you today.

one day, the ringing just stops. there's no sign of you, or your presence. zhongli assumes you're just taking a sick day, or you've decided to rest, but after a week of not hearing the bells, he worries.

archons, how he wanted to look for you, but he doesn't even know who you are. hu tao encourages zhongli to take the day off and look for you, so he did.

walking aimlessly in liyue, doubt crosses his mind. what if you were here for a business trip and left? it wasnt until he passes by a stunning figure he hears the bells again. he stiffens and turns to you when you stopped next to him.

"thank goodness," he says, slightly covering his smile with a gloved hand.

your eyes sparkle as you look at him, "thank goodness indeed."

diluc: lost possesions will come to your soulmate

for as long diluc knows, strange things always end up in his possessions: hairclips, pens, coins, and archons forbid- his soulmate's overdue bills.

his father laughs when younger diluc comes home dragging a wagon and the biggest teddy bear in history, because how on teyvat does someone lose a teddy bear taller than a door. crepus watches his son struggling to drag the big toy home and sees his other son pushing the wagon from behind, also struggling.

"what do you have there?"

all the response he gets are grunts. the side of his eyes crinkle with mirth, seeing his two sons having trouble bringing it home.

"father!" diluc calls out with a grin missing two of his front teeth, "i don't know where it came from. it's like it appeared from the sky."

"it actually did fall out of the sky!" kaeya says, "we were at the vineyard and i saw diluc get crushed!"

"i did not get crushed."

"did too," kaeya retaliates, sticking his tongue out.

that was the first time diluc heard of this certain soulmate system. lost things from his soulmate go to his possession; lost things from diluc go to his soulmate's possession.

crepus glances at his boys and gets an idea. he calls for them to follow him, and they do, obediently. he leads them to his room, pulling out a treasure chest full of frilly clothes, dresses, outfits that range from a farmer's outfit to a noblewoman.

"this chest is where your mother kept her favourite things," crepus pulls out a necklace from the bottom of the case. "this necklace was particularly her favourite."

diluc can see why. he's mesmerized by the ruby sparkle it hangs. the gold chain complimenting the red jewel and making it complete.

crepus clutches the necklace, looking at it longingly before placing it back in the chest. he places out all the old clothes from the container and lays it on his bed.

"you can keep your soulmate's things here like i once did. your pops is getting too old anyway, i-"

kaeya interrupts crepus jumps on the clothes that are on the bed, creating a havoc in the room. he jumps on the bed with so much energy even after diluc tells him about the story of the 5 little monkeys jumping on the bed.

though, crepus is having none of that. he picks up diluc by his small arms and flings him to kaeya, looking like a bowling ball knocking down a pin. the two boys gasp for air, shooting dirty looks at their father before they chase him out of the house.

the corner of diluc's mouth twitch up ever so slightly, remembering when he first knew of his soulmate. it would take a very observant person to notice his smile. he polishes the glass behind angel's share's counter. under the filtered sunlight, the glass glints. satisfied with the cleanliness.

the chest his father game him was fill of trinkets his soulmate had lost over the years, and good grief. his soulmate must be the most disorganized person ever. he remembers walking to dawn winery and a sack of mora drop on his feet. it wasn't a pleasant feeling, but the thing that has diluc worried is how his soulmate tends to lose the biggest things like a 7-foot-tall teddy bear.

diluc is about to place the wine glass on a cupboard until SMACK.

a thick paper hits his face from seemingly nowhere and so he knows that is his soulmate losing the tenth thing for the day. he has a room dedicated for the things his soulmate has lost, and he thinks he might need a second room.

he pulls the paper off his face and his eyes widen in shock. this two-inch thick paper are legal documents. loan agreements. overdue loan agreements.

[Name] [Last Name]

he notes the name in his head. [Name] owes the fatui 35 thousand mora as interest. what kind of reckless person- then it hits his mind. that sack of mora that fell from the sky was that 35 thousand to pay off the loans.

he knows where to go. he leaves the wineglass on the counter for charles to pick up and hastily grabs his coat and leaves the door.

"liyue, liyue, liyue, and the fatui." he chants in his head. loans. he greets his maid before ascending to his room. he snatches the mora that dropped on his feet and sprints out the door to retrieve his stallion.

a few hours at most to make it to where his fated partner was at, and so he sets off.

arriving at liyue is strange, seeing diluc's attire did not match the city, and seeing his hands are holding the reins of his horse tightly. a strange traveler from a foreign land... with a majestic stallion. he looks like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

he lightly pats his horse, urging to go a bit faster from the trotting they were doing until he meets the gaze of a distressed person in front of the fatui.

"i swear! i had the money and the papers just today!"

diluc scoffs, knowing who they were now, and they did not have the money today. they lost it a week ago.

"listen," the masked fatui grumbles. "im just here to do my job. if i don't have the money in my hands right now i'll-"

diluc jumps off the saddle and unloads the sack of mora from the side, dropping it on the fatui's hand with a seething glare, yet still polite.

"i believe they owe you 35 thousand? sounds about right, no?" he says, letting his diplomatic side show a bit. "for the sake of it, why not amuse me and take this, david. hmm?"

the fatui goes rigid, hearing his name. he slowly lifts his eyes up, "master diluc." he curtly nods and skittishly walks away. one time david spilled drinks at a mondstadt political gathering. he spilled it on diluc.

the ragnvindr waits for the fatui to walk away before turning to his, supposedly love of his life.

"you're the one who lost a 7-foot-tall teddy bear when i was six," he points out, waiting for your response.

his soulmate sheepishly smiles, "well- i would have a good defense but hey, did you at least enjoy having a 7-feet-tall teddy bear fall on you?"

"i did, along with a glass mug falling on me as well."

"i just cant believe how you never lose your stuff!" they retort, "the only thing i got was a missing tooth from you."

the tip of diluc's ears turn the same colour as his hair, but still wears a stoic expression. "i'm diluc ragnvindr," he greets, slightly bowing his head.

"and i'm yours"

part 2: with ganyu, kaeya and thoma

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader Part 2/?

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

content warning. shameless smut, profanity, size kink, age gap, afab reader, fingering, squirting This is part two of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

Length 1.7k words

The predatory grin that split his face made you surge with fear and delight, watching his scar pull taught in the most deliciously tantalizing way. "Why don't I show you?"

His eyes were sharp, and you could tell he was aware of every subtle shift, every tense of your muscles. Knowing that, the way you parted your thighs for him ever so slightly seemed to be enough of a response. You squeaked, effortlessly being lifted from your seat and placed on the cool countertop, the legs of the chair scraping against hardwood flooring. Even with the sudden change of position, Toji was nearly half a head taller than you at his full height. You briefly wondered if that reflected anywhere else on his body... Strong hips pushed between your thighs, leaving little room for imagination as his muscle hardened body pressed up against your front, lush green eyes grazing your lips, down to your breasts, then back up to catch your own gaze. Your mind was spinning a mile a minute, he was so close you could smell the mint on his breath poorly covering up the cigarette he had on his drive over. "Do you mind, princess?" Toji took your chin in a firm grip between his thumb and forefinger, tauntingly wagging your shock-slackened face. His thumb that was previously purchased only an inch lower stroked your bottom lip. Your head was so foggy you almost missed the question, shamelessly shaking your head quickly when you realized he was speaking to you. He wasn't as rough as you expected him to be when he kissed you. You had expected brute force, and although there was force, there was a kind of gentleness to it, like he was trying to coax something out of you. It didn't take much for you to give in to his subtle request, tongues brushing gently, eliciting an excited shiver down your spine. You hadn't noticed your white-knuckle grip on the countertop under you until Toji brought the fingers gripping your chin to your wrist, guiding your hand dangerously low on his black clad torso. He parted from you, close enough to feel your stuttered breaths, but far enough to take in your flustered appearance. "You're actin' like you're expecting me to rip a chunk out of you," Toji gibed, letting go of your wrist and setting both hands low on your hips. "I wouldn't unless you asked me to, you can loosen up sweetheart." "Well I can't exactly say I've prepared to be in this situation." "Mm, but you've thought about it, haven't you? Dirty girl." It was more of a statement than a question, he saw straight through your well behaved facade. You swallowed the words caught in your throat, unable to deny it. Toji didn't seem to want a response, like he knew the answer already, and dove back in for another kiss. This was was more what you were expecting, it made your head spin. Your hand moved slowly, feeling every ridge underneath the stretched out fabric as it traveled up, making home on his broad shoulder. Your other hand quickly found his upper bicep, feeling the muscles flex when he gave your hips a squeeze. What you hadn't expected was his sudden display of strength, one arm lifting you from the counter while the other all but ripped your shorts from your legs. Quickly parting from Toji, you look at him in awe.

"I'd like to be gentle, but seeing you so messed up this morning... got me thinking how fuckin' wrecked you’ll look when I'm done with you." He spoke low, eyes peeking through black strands dangerously.

"Is that a promise, or a threat?" "All depends on you, sweetheart." With no more words exchanged, Toji took quick strides and carried you over to the couch, dropping you down with a little less grace than you had desired. You let out a quick exhale, barely being able to recover the breath you lost when he immediately climbed on top of you and dove back in for a bruising kiss. Using one hand to hold himself up, Toji used the other to run up your thigh, trace the hem of your underwear, deliberately avoiding the ache between your thighs that was desperately needing attention. It continued upwards, bringing your shirt up with it, stopping only once it was pulled over your now exposed bust. Amidst the languid strokes of his tongue against your own, you felt a low hum of approval that reverberated through you and shot straight to the growing heat between your legs. "Nothing underneath? It's like you were waiting for me," He whispered against your lips. "Why would I wear a bra in my own home? Don't flatter yourself, Mister Fushiguro." You quipped back, almost immediately regretting your words. The hand hiking your shirt up shot to your throat, holding it firmly enough to be uncomfortable, but not nearly tight enough to choke you. Your hands moved quickly to grab his arm, but his empty hand intercepted the intrusion and pinned them above your head. "Watch your mouth if you know whats good for you, doll." You felt ashamed his threat made your pussy throb. It subsided slightly when he removed his hand from your neck. To get his point across, Toji leaned down and bit down on your pulse point just below your jawline, dragging something between a gasp and whine from your throat. Tracing his slick tongue over the reddened skin, he moved down agonizingly slow, grazing over your bunched up shirt, and settling over one of your already hardened nipples. You could see the look on his face, smug, like he was saying already this excited? It didn't take him long to make quick work of his mouth, circling your nipple with his tongue before grazing his teeth over the perked bud, coaxing a whine from you. He didn't stay long, quickly moving to the other nipple and giving it a more thorough treatment. He used his skillful hands to pinch and roll the other, his fingers moving expertly to pull as much sound out of you as possible. His smirk against your skin didn't go unnoticed as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue and tugging gently with his teeth, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly you needed him. Toji seemed to take your sudden silence as defiance, something even you knew he had zero tolerance for. Fingers abandoned toying with your pert nipple, tracing a line on your skin as he moved down to your underwear, pressing the pad of his middle finger against your surprisingly wet panties. Detaching himself from you and using the hand trapping your wrists, he pushed himself up to take a look at you. Toji whistled, now using both index and middle finger to give your clothed pussy languid strokes. "Already this wet, you dirty little thing? You've been waiting for this," He mused. You avoided eye contact, turning your head to look at the back of the couch, the pressure on your wrists releasing. You would ask him what he was doing if he hadn't gripped your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to look at him. "I want you to watch me fuck you with my fingers." His hands worked in time with his voice, yanking your underwear down one leg, leaving it dangle on your other ankle. There was no time to come up with a witty remark, your back arching as he plunged a thick finger in to the last knuckle, pumping at a steady pace. "I want you to look at me as you cum." Toji quickly added a second finger, your moans and whines growing quickly in pitch as he forced you to face him. His expression was unchanging, dark eyes blown with lust and mouth pulled into a firm line. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. He scissored his fingers, stretching you out to make room for a third, and it was just as quickly added as the others. His skilled thumb came to your clit, rubbing in a quick, circular motion that had you seeing stars. It was too much stimulation all at once, and your expression was quick to change, mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. "I wish I could take a picture of your pretty fuckin' face." Toji grinned. You felt your walls start to pulse, your legs tensing and shaking from the intensity of your upcoming orgasm. "T-Toji, it'sh too mush... I'm-!" You slurred your words, cheeks being squeezed tighter between his strong hand as he forced your face closer to his. "You can take it." He left no room for convincing. He didn't have to. "Cum for me." As your orgasm violently ripped through your entire body, you could have sworn your vision whited out for just a fraction of a second. You didn't realize you had screamed, your pussy seizing and pulsing around his fingers that were fucking you through your orgasm. He didn't seem to care that your eyes were rolled too far back in your head to be able to look at him while you came down from your high. "Goddamn princess, you're a squirter huh?" Toji removed his fingers from inside you, squishing your cheeks to garner your attention. "Look at the mess you made." "I've... never..." You whispered, chest heaving from the intensity. The way he licked between his fingers had your throbbing cunt silently begging for more. Once you caught your breath, you felt the slight ache already washing over your body. Toji didn't give you time to relax, immediately stripping himself of his shirt and untying the strings on his sweats. His body was something you'd only seen in your dreams, every muscle well defined, although littered with scars. When you made eye contact, he couldn't hold back his chortle at your bewildered expression. "Oh, sweetheart, did you think we were done?" He jeered, using one hand to shove his pants and boxers down to his knees, letting his incredibly heavy cock bounce free. It drooped under its sheer girth and size. You came to a quick conclusion that had he not prepared you how he did, there was no fucking way his dick would fit. "Doll, we're just getting started."

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part 2, final

Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]

(masterlist here)

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

then he turns up at your door.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re aware of this because: 

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

and:

b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can go get some from my apartment?”

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

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

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

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

And then you freeze.

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

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

The blood is blue. 

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

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

Seokjin’s an android.

(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)

Seokjin’s a deviant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to your LED?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”

“Maybe I am,” you hazard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Much like Taehyung had.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“How did he—why did he deviate?”

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But. 

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

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

“Has Jin always been like that?”

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

“You love him a lot,” you say gently.

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

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

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

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

“That sounds great,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve missed this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”

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

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

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

He’s not just learning practical things, like cooking French toast (which is definitely the world’s best, thank you Jin), but other things, too. You can see how Taehyung is a reflection of the things around him, taking them in and making them his own—there are more moments of quiet, solemnity that reminds you of Yoongi’s quiet nature, but he’s also more exuberant, bright and unabashed, like Seokjin. They’re two great people and you couldn’t wish for anyone better to show Taehyung parts of the world that you can’t, so different from your own. Helping the android find the things that make him alive.

His world has doubled in size, as small as it is; one apartment becomes two, and you’re not the only person he can rely on now. You know Seokjin has effectively taken Taehyung under his wing, as mysterious as a lot of that is to you—you always try your best to understand Taehyung and teach him the things you can, but Seokjin is another deviant, and there’s an entire world about being an android that you’re not privy to. 

It’s great. It’s lovely. Taehyung is happy, you’re happy, everyone’s happy. 

There’s just, uh. One little thing.

You see, Taehyung has a tendency to mimic the things he sees. It’s in the way he learns, his propensity to soak things up like a sponge and then recreate them. You can see this in the way he mixes paint, the same way as you; how he tosses food in pans, motions so similar to Jin’s, or how he cradles things in his hands, tapping at screens in a way that’s like Yoongi’s. He’s turning them into his own, and as time goes on he moves more naturally, in a way that’s entirely him, but you can always see the roots of where he’s learned things.

Jin and Yoongi are wonderful and you’re so glad Taehyung is learning from them. But something he’s learning, and recreating, is how much they touch each other.

Taehyung’s always been tactile but now it’s almost constant. It’s overwhelming and kind of terrifying but it’s also nice, every touch-starved inch of your soul easing under Taehyung’s hands, but also—Yoongi and Jin are boyfriends. So even if the touches that Taehyung witnesses and re-enacts are never inappropriate, they’re intimate. Hands sliding over your shoulders, your arms, your waist. Warm arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, nuzzles his nose against your scalp. His fingers sliding over your hair when your head is resting in his lap each night. Pulling you against him when you sit on the couch together.

It’s a level of familiarity and comfort you’ve never had with anyone before, as relationship-less as you’ve been, your pulse picking up with every glancing touch.

(There’s one heart stopping instance where he pulls you onto his lap and you feel like you’re about to pass out. His thighs are so solid and warm, and his arms are so secure around you, and he’s just started to press his nose against your neck when you pull away, tumble out of his hold. He looks confused and concerned, brows lifting and mouth falling open as he holds his hands out towards you—but you stammer out something about needing the toilet before escaping.)

You’re caught completely off-guard when you feel arms sliding around your waist and then down your hips when you’re washing dishes, scrubbing brush falling out of your grasp in shock and splashing water everywhere, bright yellow gloves flecked with suds. Taehyung’s a pillar of warmth pressed against you, his chest to your back, your bodies parallel lines that cross and touch. His fingers are splayed wide and his palms are warm even through your layers of clothing and you have to suppress a shiver.

“Uh, I didn’t hear you come back in,” you stutter. You’d borrowed a recipe book from Seokjin so that you could try cooking a coconut curry, and Taehyung had offered to return it once dinner was finished, LED flickering blue as he’d slipped out of the door after giving you a lovely smile.

Taehyung lets out a little hum, and you can feel it in his chest, as flush as you are with each other. He must be able to sense how your pulse has picked up but he doesn’t say anything. “Why are you washing up? I said I was going to do it.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you say. You’re used to cleaning up after yourself after living alone for so long. “Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung lets out another hum, but this one seems a bit more gravelly, a little displeased. “You’re always doing so much for me, remember? You said you’d let me look after you,” he says, and your heart rate spikes at the words. Those, coupled with the hold he has on you right now? Good lord. Someone have mercy on your soul. Please. Even if the words weren’t meant in a weird way, your stomach is twisting over itself, and other parts of you are, uh… well. They’re reacting too. So to speak.

You’re still desperately trying to calm yourself in the shower later, the water a merciless cascade of cold in an attempt to cool down. Probably the only drawback about Taehyung living with you is that you haven’t had a chance for some one-on-one time. You might be a virgin but you live (lived) alone and everyone masturbates; your vibrators have been abandoned and untouched for as long as Taehyung has been in your life, and coupled with how touchy he’s been recently, it leaves you feeling wound up and on edge. You could try to sneakily get yourself off in the shower, but with Taehyung’s superior android hearing he’d probably hear something and also the idea of masturbating with someone else in the apartment? When that someone else is Taehyung?

You turn the knob as far as it will go towards cold and then promptly squeal as a wave of freezing water and regret washes over you.

When you’re in bed, Taehyung’s hand strokes over your hair and softly down your neck and shoulder is a sensation that’s becoming increasingly familiar, but your pulse still stutters. He must be able to sense your heart rate increasing (he must sense it every time he touches you) but says nothing about it. As always.

You turn the thoughts over in your head as it rests in his lap, even if you shiver a little at how his nails drag over the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either, Yoongi had said. You’ve been teaching Taehyung about the things you know, but there’s one thing that Taehyung knows better than you: touch.

He doesn’t even think about it. While you hesitate and overthink every touch you ever make, wary of overstepping boundaries, Taehyung doesn’t. Not because he’s not considerate, but because—well, because you’re already occupying each other’s space. What’s a little touching on top of all that?

The realisation is almost startling—that you can just… touch someone. Without saying things. Without having to ask. Because you’re already familiar with them and comfortable with them and it’s just another way to communicate that level of connection. Touching is a thing that people do. 

A thing that people and deviant androids do.

A thing that Taehyung does.

(A thing that you want to do, too.)

(Alcohol dulls your memories, fading the edges, the curled corners of a sepia photograph. Has you forgetting the way you’d overstepped every boundary you’d set yourself, the way you’d pressed yourself against Taehyung, starved of touch. Has you forgetting the way he’d let you; the way he’d beckoned you in. Has you forgetting the way that you already have touched Taehyung.)

The hand that Taehyung isn’t using to gently scratch across your scalp is laying on his thigh, directly in your line of vision. You hesitate for just a moment before reaching for it, sliding your fingers between his, an irrational worry that he’ll startle or pull away—but of course he doesn’t. His LED swirls soft aqua as he just starts to rub his thumb gently across your skin, back and forth, back and forth, the softest brushstrokes on this tiny part of the canvas of your body.

After that, it’s just… easier. Not easy, but, easier.

You still hesitate before pressing forwards, but Taehyung never protests; in fact you’d say he’s pleased, even if he doesn’t say anything, just watching you with his dark, dark eyes as you marvel at the realistic sensation of his hair under your hands, how he reacts to the fingers across his scalp the same way you do.

It’s incredibly nice to have someone you can just reach for whenever you want a hug. Someone who folds you into their arms so easily, like you belong there.

It’s nice.

“You seem happier.”

You glance up from where you’ve been laying the table. “Hm? Pardon?”

One thing you’ve learned about Yoongi is that he’s incredibly perceptive. His eyes are sharp lines around the sharper graphite of his gaze, and there’s always a look in them that seems like he can see straight through you and direct into the heart of things—but he’ll only bring this to light if he thinks it needs saying.

“You seem relaxed,” Yoongi continues. He straightens the cutlery in front of him, careful to line the edges neatly with the place mat. Seokjin and Taehyung are cooking dinner, so it’s just you and Yoongi here, in a bubble away from the two androids. “Not that you were ever tense before, but… yeah. Taehyung seems happier too,” he adds, almost absently, but his eyes are fixed on your face.

“Well, of course,” you say. “He has new friends, who wouldn’t be happy?”

Yoongi hums, a quiet little note, but then he lets it rest.

Taehyung is happier. He seems almost nervous during dinner, though, even if he hides it well; his LED doesn’t give him away, but you’re getting good at reading Taehyung’s moods, the layers of personality and feeling he has, the little idiosyncrasies that make him who he is. To anyone else it would seem like he’s just nervous about whether the food tastes good or not—he and Jin had made a veritable feast for no discernable reason, but you don’t mind. Everyone loves a dinner party, especially when the company is so good. 

But, yes. You don’t think it’s about the food so you’re not sure what else it could be. You squeeze Taehyung’s knee briefly under the table in a motion you hope is reassuring. His eyes briefly widen but then his gaze softens when he sees the concern on your face, settling in that deep look of introspection you’re used to now. 

You’re so full by the time dessert comes out, rich and creamy homemade ice cream and piping hot Kkwabaegi, the twisted doughnuts fluffy and sweet with their powdering of sugar and cinnamon; you’d been planning on skipping the final course but you can’t say no once it’s put in front of you. Taehyung doesn’t eat, only drinks occasionally to top up his fluids (you don’t know exactly what that means but you’ve never asked, even if you can… assume things), but he seems content to watch the three of you eat in his place. Once you’re finished you slump back in your chair and feel grateful that you’re not wearing tight trousers that cut into your stomach, because, lord, you’re absolutely stuffed. 

“I have an announcement,” Taehyung says suddenly, apropos of nothing.

Seokjin beams. You sit up, struggling against the heavy anchor of dinner in your belly that makes you want to melt into the floor for a food nap, immediately at attention. “Oh? What is it?”

“I have a second name now,” he says, and Seokjin’s smile spreads impossibly wider, his entire face pleased. “Jin said I could share his.”

“Say hello to Kim Taehyung.” Seokjin gestures dramatically, his arms the flailing blades of a windmill as he circles them in the air with aplomb. “My boy needed a surname and I am, of course, happy to add another handsome face to the family. Taehyung is a ten out of ten.”

Yoongi levels him a look. “I thought you said you were the only ten in the world.”

“That was true when I said it, but I’m actually eleven out of ten,” Seokjin explains. His arms settle around his head, fingers circling the air in an invisible frame around his face. “I surpass your mortal conventions of beauty and thus exist outside of any conceivable scale that one might use to measure handsomeness.”

You barely take the exchange in, too busy looking at Taehyung. There’s the smallest smile on his lips, not the lovely one that shows his teeth, but it still reaches his eyes, the subtlest upturn to his mouth transforming his entire face. Taehyung’s beautiful. He always has been, and always will be, but he never looks more striking than when he’s happy, welcomed into a new family of his own with open arms, Seokjin’s heart so big and so wide. He’s being flippant and light right now, quick and sharp jibes between him and Yoongi that glow bright with love and affection, not lingering on how important and weighty this is: how all encompassing his care is for Taehyung, how close they’ve grown to each other, a friend whom he’s chosen as family.

Happiness suits Taehyung. You want him to always be happy. He deserves it.

It doesn’t seem like it’s the only announcement he has for that night, though. You’ve barely shut the door of your own apartment when you feel Taehyung’s hand slide around your wrist and you pause, glancing up at his face.

“Jin showed me how to take my LED out,” he says. His words are solemn and his tone is heavy but there’s a spark in his eyes, a glowing ember of light. “I want you to watch.”

His fingers are circled around your wrist, loose, so long they touch each other with ease, a soft shackle you don’t want to escape from. “Of course I will,” you assure him. “Are you worried something will go wrong?”

“No.” His thumb slips away from the soft skin of your inner wrist and across your palm, tracing across your fate line, your heart line. “I just want you to be there.”

Warmth spreads through your skin from that touch, leaking through into your bones, settling into every quiet corner inside you. “Okay. What do you need to do to get it out?”

The painting knife looks so small in Taehyung’s big, careful hand, the diamond shaped head blunt at the end, metal glinting under the bathroom’s light as he leans towards the mirror. Your gazes meet in the reflection and he falters. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he lifts his free hand from where it’s been resting on the countertop, steadying him. Reaching for you.

Once your hand is in his, it’s over surprisingly quickly. Taehyung’s face twists in preparation for the pain, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him, but all it takes is a quick twist of his wrist once the palette knife is against his LED and it practically falls out. There’s a small clink as it drops next to the sink, blue light flickering one final time before it winks out, nothing more than a disc of metal, a tiny coin without value, but weighty with what it represents; invaluable, priceless. The last segment of a chain Taehyung has willingly cast off.

You can see the white skeleton of his android body, bare and naked where the LED had sat. Just like Seokjin’s hand when he’d cut himself, the skin starts to creep back over it, covering that smooth paleness until it’s gone. Taehyung lifts your hand and presses it against the side of his temple, your palm settling against the naked skin where the light had been nestled; Taehyung’s eyes fall shut, his hand pressed against your own as he holds it there.

“Taehyung?” Your voice is gentle, dripping concern. His golden skin is so warm and soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he replies without hesitation. His eyes flutter open, lashes so long and lovely. His hair is blue today, a vibrant electric hue, gaudy on anyone else but perfect on him, tickling the back of your hand; his hand drops from yours and you take the opportunity to run it through that hair, baring his forehead to you, eyes sliding over the new skin. Flawless. No evidence that any LED had ever sat there, burning blue-yellow-red, a tiny drop of colour in the deep ocean of Taehyung’s emotions. “I feel good.”

You don’t even think when your hand shifts out of Taehyung’s hair and down to cup his cheek, something you wouldn’t have dared do before, but now the motion comes as easily as breathing. He takes comfort in touch and you want to soothe him. “Good,” you echo. “I’m glad.”

You both stand there for a few moments, facing each other. The bright light of your bathroom should wash Taehyung out, but of course, it doesn’t. It just lets you see all the perfect details of his face in even sharper relief—the moles that dot his skin, how his eyes are different, a monolid and double lid, little imperfections that just make him more beautiful. 

Logically, you know that someone, somewhere, sat down and put this face together. Taehyung was designed to be attractive, stunningly so, and yet not so perfect that an average human would find it unrealistic, swerving away from that uncanny valley that had plagued earlier androids. But that’s not why he’s beautiful—not to you. It’s everything hidden underneath that perfect facade, layers of plastic and metal and circuitry and biocomponents, deep inside him: his glowing golden heart, flowing over with whatever intangible thing that makes him the person that he is.

In the darkness of your bedroom, all the lights turned off, there’s no longer the gentle blue glow at Taehyung’s temple to shine out, but there doesn’t need to be. Even if you weren’t resting your head against his thigh you’d know he was there. Taehyung’s presence grows larger and larger in your life as the days go by, and you know that you’re still the most important person in his life, even with the introduction of Yoongi and Jin. After all—he didn’t ask them to be there when he took his LED out. 

You reach for his hand, which is already palm up, waiting for you. Your fingers slot together so perfectly, so wonderful, so lovely. You can’t make out details in this dark, but you can picture the smile that’ll be pulling at Taehyung’s lips, the affection flowing in the endless oceans of his eyes.

You’re in so, so deep.

(But who can blame you?)

“I want to go outside.”

It’s not surprising that with the shedding of his LED, Taehyung finally feels bold enough to go outdoors. And yet, here you are. Surprised.

You’ve got a granola bar stuck in your mouth, halfway through a bite, and it nearly drops to the floor as your lips part in shock. Taehyung catches it with ease, android speed on show as he snatches it out of the air. 

Your knee-jerk reaction is to ask him to repeat himself. To make sure you haven’t misheard him, if he’s sure about this, if he really wants to—but Yoongi’s words come back to you yet again. If there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it. Taehyung isn’t the uninformed android he was when he’d first made his way to your door. He’s grown and learned so much in the time he’s been here and there’s no room for self-doubt behind his words.

So what you say is: “Okay.” 

Taehyung’s fingers brush against yours when he hands your granola bar back, long and warm and soft. You accept it with a smile, lost in the way he smiles back, so lovely and bright—and you have to pull your train of thought back on track, lock those wheels on the rails before you speak again.

“Did you want to go somewhere specific? Or just wherever?”

“Wherever you want to go.” He’s smiling, a little excited but mostly happy at the prospect of spending yet more time with you; as if he hasn’t had enough of it, could never get enough, even when you spend every day together. 

(Your heart feels like a drum, pounding hard and loud in your chest.)

It’s not hard, really, to decide where you want to go. Taehyung’s not asking for some big production; just wants something quiet and soft, something new. The chance to see the outside world properly, safe and secure in the knowledge that you’ll be at his side.

It’s in your nature to be protective—sometimes you feel like you nag, like you’re overbearing, and takes a concerted effort on your part to reel it in. Taehyung doesn’t need you to fuss over him, and besides, he seems incredibly calm about the whole thing. Excited, yes, but not nervous. Just anticipatory.

He looks just like anyone else might. More chic and attractive, sure, effortlessly fashionable in the outfit he’s chosen for the day, but there’s nothing robotic about him, nothing to say he’s not a flesh-and-blood person. Once again, you’re struck by just how human he is. Even if he’d still had the LED flickering at his temple it would have done nothing to detract from the genuine emotion that flits across his face. The way he moves. The way he smiles, when he catches you watching the way he laces his shoes with his delicate, pretty hands—that big lovely smile that makes you feel warm and soft.

(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)

You avert your gaze, pretend to fiddle with one of your bracelets, pulling it so that it spins around your wrist.

“Ready?”

“Nearly,” Taehyung says. When you look back at him, a little confused, he still has that smile on his face, though it’s gentler, fuzzy around the edges, his eyes dark-dark-dark. “Just one more thing.”

This final thing, it turns out, is your hand. 

His fingers lace with yours, weaving a tapestry of closeness and warmth. You’ve held Taehyung’s hands so often, now; it’s nothing new. But for some reason the touch of his skin against yours has your pulse stuttering, catching in your throat before you cough lightly and smile like everything is fine, you’re fine, it’s not like your heart is about to launch itself out of your chest for some mysterious reason.

(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)

He doesn’t let go. Not when you leave the apartment, not when you greet Rory at the door, not when you step onto one of the automated buses that takes you to the centre of the city. You’re surprised at how good Taehyung’s acting is, how all the wide-eyed excitement you’d expected to see splashed across his face is absent, and instead, he just squeezes your hand tight each time he takes in something new; stares out of the window as your surroundings slide by.

He does get excited in the art store though. Pulls at your joined hands each time he sees something he wants to point out to you—which seems to be everything. And you go, of course, following his eager feet. Taehyung’s happiness has always given you happiness in turn, and watching his sheer, unadulterated joy at being able to see things, to touch things outside of the small world he’s been confined to since he escaped the Eden Club—well. There’s nothing better.

There’s nothing better than knowing that Taehyung feels safe with you, wants to keep you close. It’s selfish. It’s selfish, you know it is, but when you watch the way his eyes light up at the sight of a set of gouache paints, how he immediately turns towards you so you can see it too—you realise that you’ve never had something like this before. Sure, you have friends, you have plenty of happiness in your life, but you’ve never had this.

(Whatever this is.)

Someone whose joy is only compounded when it’s shared with you. Someone whose focus is on you and no one else. You see the looks that Taehyung gets, the interested eyes that flit over him—but then he reaches for your hand again, and those gazes slide away, because he hasn’t looked away from you. Not once.

Because you make him feel safe, you remind yourself. Because he knows you best. That’s it. 

It’s what you keep telling yourself, a repeated mantra that’s an endless loop in your head. Every time Taehyung looks at you, smiles at you, reaches for your hand, your touch—even if your heart feels like it could burst, filling up with this feeling, this feeling that’s growing and growing (this feeling you refuse to name)—it’s because he trusts you, knows he can rely on you. It’s nothing more than that. 

You shouldn’t let yourself imagine that it’s more than that.

(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)

It’s because he trusts you that he follows you without question, matching his pace with yours, side by side as you wander through the city. He insists on carrying all your shopping, held effortlessly in one hand, other hand still tangled with yours. (You see the way he swings the bags a little, back and forth; he’s so cute you’d swear your teeth could rot from it, crystallised sugar rolled on your tongue, sweet.) All your shopping is done, but you have one final stop planned—it’s somewhere you haven’t been for a while, but you love it.

You’re certain Taehyung will, too.

You can feel how his hold on your fingers tightens when the building comes into view. You glance over at him to take in his expression, the subtle widening of his eyes, the lift of his chest as he takes an unneeded breath in, the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips.

(So human.) 

The Christine Andrews Gallery isn’t the biggest art gallery in the city, but it’s your favourite. There’s something that feels more intimate about it, with its size; a little smaller, cosier, more stripped down. The high ceilings overhead are crisscrossed with wires and piping, industrial—but the walls are pure white, all the brighter in contrast to their surroundings, drawing the eye to the paintings on display from the moment you step in.

Taehyung is enraptured.

“The exhibition is called Slow Painting. The idea is that people will take their time to really take everything in, and appreciate it, rather than just rushing by. Especially with how quickly technology is developing, and people are used to discarding things as soon as they're not relevant any more. The idea is that art will always be relevant, regardless of what's happening in the world.”

Your voice is quiet and low as you’re careful not to disturb the serene air that fills the building. You’ve always loved the quiet hush that fills galleries, museums, buildings filled with art and history, long lasting echoes of humanity, on display for people to enjoy. 

“And it also refers to the time it takes to create each piece too,” you add, trailing off into silence as you glance over at Taehyung, who’s looking at you, blinking gentle and slow.

He’s watching you. Even though there’s artwork in sight of the entrance, huge canvases nearby—Taehyung is looking at you, attentive and quiet, listening to each word you have to say.

Your heart squeezes in your chest and you have to make a concerted effort to stop your breath from stuttering. You shove it down, down, down, this thing that’s wrapping itself around your heart and clogging your throat, and give this lovely boy your best smile. (Try to ignore the fact that there’s art here, but instead, he’s looking at you.)

“Tell you what. Instead of listening to me harp on all day, why don’t we just look around?”

When Taehyung had first stepped foot in your door, had first started to experience life as something more than just a sexbot, an android under the control of other people’s wills—he’d taken everything in with huge eyes, eager and enthusiastic, almost clumsy in his excitement. That’s faded over time, become muted as he’s learned how to balance himself, grown comfortable with his surroundings, who he is.

He’s still like a fountain sometimes, bubbling and bright, overflowing, cascading pearlescent waters rushing over carved marble. You’d expected these waters to rise and spill, surrounded by these incredible artworks; so far the only works he’s seen in person are his and your own, everything else small and secondhand on screens as he stares intently at your computer, your tablet. You’d expected his joy to overflow, being able to really see for the first time in his life, prepared yourself for his exuberant happiness.

But he’s not.

He’s quiet. There’s a smile that lingers on his lips, barely hidden at the corners of his mouth, but his shining waters flow soft and slow, contained. You wander through the exhibition exactly the way the curator had meant for you to—slowly, carefully, stopping and pausing and looking and wondering, eyes trailing over each painting, acrylic on paper, oil on canvas, distemper on linen. Each so different, but inviting onlookers to take a moment and just breathe. 

Taehyung’s eyes are dark, contemplative. They’re so deep you feel like you could fall in them and be lost forever. (Wonder if that would be such a bad thing.) He keeps his hand in yours, your hand in his, the two of you matching paces as you loop the gallery, never letting go.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, I like these.”

Four canvases, smaller than some of the others you’ve seen, squirrelled around a corner and hidden away on a back wall. Each painting has a figure in the midst of some simple, quiet task; laying in bed, catching an egg as it threatens to roll off a table, trailing a finger through a puddle of spilled milk, reading a book in the bath. Each of the figures has their face turned away from the viewer, caught up as they are in the simple motions of their life, each silhouetted by a window with a different view—from sea to lake to hill to forest.

You can’t help but look at Taehyung as he looks at these paintings, his brows a little raised, mouth a little slack, the lovely line of his jaw, the angles of his face, forehead to nose to lips to chin. “What do you like about them? The style?”

His answer comes unrushed, unhurried, as he thinks.  “They’re so beautiful and detailed, but it’s more about… the intimacy,” he says. “Each person is just being themselves, without fear of who’s watching. We’re watching them, even if their attention isn’t on us.” A pause, a hush, a breath. “It’s like love, almost.”

Your lips part, even as Taehyung keeps his eyes forwards, staring at the blank pages of the book the man reads as he sits in his bath, row of shampoo bottles on the sill by his head. 

“Like love?” A whisper.

“To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you,” Taehyung replies, unabashed, like it’s just a statement of fact. “Loyalty. Dedication. Love.”

Words fail you. Silence is the only answer you can offer to Taehyung’s thoughts, the air in your lungs trapped there as you unwittingly hold your breath, lips parted around a sentence that never comes. Taehyung’s eyes slide away from this row of paintings and to you, how you’re staring at him, literally speechless.

His own lips part as he makes to say something else, to ask what’s wrong—when there’s a flicker of movement nearby, the modulated steps of someone who’s used to walking through a gallery, careful to keep the calm air unmuddied by their passing.

“Oh, Y/n!”

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silent moment and splinters the delicate air that had started to crystallise around you. He looks happy to see you, dimples on full display as his lips lift and he smiles wide.

“Namjoon!” You don’t think you’ve ever been so glad to see his familiar face in your life—anything to distract you, any excuse to shake off the feeling that Taehyung’s words have left behind, trailing over your skin, blooming in your brain. His timing is perfect, even if he doesn’t realise it.  “Hey! It’s been a while.”

“I was going to say, I haven’t seen you around lately! I thought you’d like this exhibition, I was wondering if you’d come. Oh, sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? Hi, I’m Namjoon,” he says, holding a hand out for Taehyung to shake. “I’m one of the gallery managers.”

Taehyung’s exchanged a few words with others today, polite thank yous to the people who’ve served you in the shops you’ve been into, given shy smiles to passersby who’ve made eye contact with him. (So, so sweet, always.) 

But Namjoon is the first person to properly introduce themselves to him in the real world, as you’ve thought of it, someone who doesn’t know that the man at your side is an android.

You panic. Just for a second.

Taehyung doesn’t.

“Hello.” He has to take his hand out of yours, the other weighed down by shopping, although he seems reluctant to let go of you. He gives Namjoon his widest smile as he shakes the proffered hand with firm, friendly politeness. “I’m Taehyung. It’s lovely to meet you, Namjoon.”

And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.

Namjoon is utterly charmed.

(Of course he is. How could he not be?)

The discussion they both have is a quiet one. You’re happy to stay uninvolved, watching and listening as they talk, still at Taehyung’s side. That brief moment of panic, that blazing forest fire of fear for him—it’s been washed away, soothed by the way the conversation between man and android unfolds so naturally, Namjoon none the wiser about Taehyung’s robotic origins.

There’s no way anyone would realise. He’s so human, in the way he moves and acts and thinks, the way he laughs at something Namjoon says. You’re happy that Taehyung can be here with you, in this gallery, speaking to someone new, as if this is normal, natural, nothing unusual.

You can’t think of anything you want for Taehyung more.

You realise, too, that in this moment, you feel utterly content. Not just for Taehyung, but—happy that you’re there to share this moment with him. You think about how you’ve always wanted this; someone to share things with, someone whose happiness makes you happy too.

When Taehyung laughs, your own lips lift in response, heart lifting at the sound of his joy, at how his fingers tighten around yours. Remembering that you’re there, even if he’s not looking at you right now, eyes on Namjoon.

He’s looking at Namjoon. You’re looking at him. 

(To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you.)

(Loyalty. Dedication.)

(A breath.)

(Love.)

You carefully pull your hand out of Taehyung’s. Your fingers feel cold as they slip away from his, warmed all day, pressed against Taehyung’s soft skin. His eyes flit away from Namjoon, those deep eyes settling on you; dark wood and ground coffee, so warm.

“Y/n?”

“I’m just going to pop to the toilet,” you say, turning away from the tinge of confusion that colours Taehyung’s voice. “I won’t be long.”

The toilet lid is cold. You can feel how it seeps through the layers of your clothing to your thighs, and at any other time you might wrinkle your nose at the sensation, at how uncomfortable it is. But right now, you have other things on your mind.

You bury your face in your hands. It’s foolish, but you’d swear you could feel Taehyung still in your palms, touch imprinted, emblazoned on your skin. It’s like a palpable thing, almost, this ethereal thing that lingers even when Taehyung isn’t there.

Wishful thinking. Selfish thinking. Selfish, to like it, to want to keep that feeling close; let it spread from your palm, to the delicate skin of your wrist, tracing its way up your arm, up-up-up, drawing invisible lines over every part of you, inside every part of you. Selfish, to like Taehyung’s touch as much as you do. To want more of it. 

(More of him.)

You aren’t anything more to Taehyung than a friend. A guardian. Someone who’s there to support him and keep him safe. You’re blessed to have his trust, to be able to be that person he can turn to—it’s greedy, to want. To want to be more.

(You can’t foist your loneliness on Taehyung. You can’t do that to him. You won’t. You won’t.)

When you return, a spark lights in Taehyung’s eyes. The same spark that bursts every time he sees you after time apart, no matter how long or short that may be. He reaches for your hand, and of course, you go—but your fingers are limp, weak.

(You know that if Taehyung’s LED had still been nestled in his skin, it would have flickered yellow.)

You keep that point of connection as you bid Namjoon goodbye, finish meandering through the exhibition, make your way back home—but you let Taehyung bear the weight. Reactive, not proactive. You don’t squeeze his fingers just because you want to, because there’s something sliding by the bus’s window you think he might like to see; you’re not here to make him do things, to shove things down his throat. You should just be here to support him in the things he wants to do. That’s your role. 

And that’s where you’re going to stay.

Your thoughts are a tumble, messy and unorganised, a ball of yarn that’s all knots and tangles. Taehyung must be able to see it on your face, read it in your body, his android eyes scanning over you and scrutinising every hint you’re giving away without even realising. But you just smile, wave away his questions, and act like everything’s okay. Normal. Routine.

It’s a little harder, though, to act like everything’s okay when it’s time to sleep.

Because, of course, there Taehyung is. Like he has been, from the day he’d arrived—sat in your bed, nestled against a pile of cushions, expression open and warm and fond as he looks at you. Waiting for you to climb in, to rest your head in his lap; waiting for you to fall asleep with his gentle fingers dragging across your scalp, melting under his lovely hands.

You waver. Conflicted. It’s okay, isn’t it, if Taehyung’s reaching for you first?

His eyes meet yours. The second you see his lips curve up, see that pretty, quiet smile appearing on his lovely mouth, you fold.

It’s fine. You’ll allow yourself this.

(In your dreams, you stand in a deserted gallery, staring at the single piece of work on the stark white walls, all the lights focused in, in, in. Taehyung’s framed on this canvas, a painted window into his world. Not once does he look at you, turned away as he is; you see nothing more than the back of his head, the curve of his cheek, the vaguest hint of his nose as he turns, always staring at something else. 

And still, you stand, and you watch. Waiting. Keeping your eyes on him, always.)

“You’re staying late again.”

“Yeah. I really want to get this done,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your monitors with your stylus; tweaking, editing, shifting around these final few magazine pages before you’re satisfied. “Nearly there.”

When you hear the way Hoseok says your name, you glance up. 

As someone who spends most of his time bouncing around like a literal ray of sunshine, when Hoseok’s expression is one that isn’t smiling, it carries all the more weight behind it. Right now his face is uncharacteristically serious, the perpetual smile on his mouth gone, the line of his brows severe.

It’s unnerving.

“You haven’t stayed late for ages,” Hoseok points out. “Until this week, and suddenly you’re late every night. Has something happened?”

“No,” you lie.

Yes, you think.

You’re trying to create some distance, for Taehyung’s sake. So that you’re not tempted to pull him ever closer, latch onto him like you have been, smothering him. He needs space to grow. Space from you has helped already—the time he spends with Yoongi and Seokjin is evidence enough of that, after all. He doesn’t need you to be there constantly.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours as he stares, so you avert your gaze, pretending to shift your focus to one of the captions the editor has left on the page you’re working on. You hadn’t realised that he’d noticed. You should have expected it, though. Hoseok is a close work friend and he’s incredibly perceptive, especially when he cares about people.

“Alright,” he says, eventually. “Make sure you don’t stay too late, though. Get some sleep.”

You give him a thumbs up without looking away from the screen, dragging something idly with your stylus until Hoseok leaves, the office empty except you, now. And the cleaning androids, when they appear for the night like clockwork. As they always do.

You can’t help but stop to watch them, how blank faced they are, for all that they look human. Their LEDs are almost motionless, the placid blue matching the blank expressions on their faces, unthinking automatons.

(You’d seen androids in the city when you’d been out with Taehyung, of course. Completing menial tasks: city androids picking litter and raking leaves, household androids following their owners around and carrying their shopping. You’d realised that Taehyung wouldn’t have seen a non-deviated android since he’d escaped the club, lapsed into silence; you’d pulled him to a stop, lips pursed in a frown as you’d tried to read his expression. 

“Taehyung,” you’d asked. “Are you alright?”

There’d been a quiet pause, and in that moment you’d felt all your worries rising, caught in your throat—but then he’d nodded quietly, looking at you with soft eyes.

“I’m alright,” he’d answered. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”

I’m the lucky one, you’d thought. Lucky to know him, as sweet-hearted and wonderful as he is. You’d squeezed his hand, and he’d smiled gently at you, and that had been that.)

It hurts, honestly. To see the expression on his face each time you come home late, each time you avoid answering his questions. There’s uncertainty laid across each of your interactions, rough bristles of a brush varnishing discomfort across the once smooth surface of your relationship; but you can’t keep taking advantage of this soft-hearted boy, of the circumstances that he’s in.

You pretend that things are fine. Taehyung is clearly confused, unsure, trying so hard to find out what’s wrong, even when you keep gently turning his concerns aside. 

You haven’t been home enough to spend time with Yoongi or Seokjin, either. You’d seen Jin in the hall just once, made eye contact just as he’d been appearing from the other apartment and you’d been stepping into yours; you’d fumbled a little, fingerprints smudging across the keypad as your door had swung open. You’d expected to see judgement on Jin’s face, maybe, something heavy and weighty, his gaze flitting over you as he read you in the way he did so often.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to smile. It’d been hard to translate his full expression but what little you could read was knowing, like he’s aware of something he shouldn’t be, kept hidden just underneath his tongue. Ready to release it into the world with a single breath.

(Needless to say, you’d shut the door pretty quick.)

He and Yoongi have gone away for the weekend. It's a small blessing, saving you from having to see Jin’s almost-smug expression again. But it means that Taehyung has nowhere else to go right now, no reason to leave the apartment. So it’ll be you and him, him and you, with no buffers, nothing. It’s been unseasonably stormy for the past few days as well, rain slammed into your windows by the harsh winds, the world outside a haze of smeared grey—so it’s not like you can go out, either. 

Not that you would want to. 

You hadn’t realised exactly how ingrained Taehyung was in your life until you’d started to pull away. It’s not just that you live together and share the same physical space—it’s just that your days have become so full of Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, and you hadn’t even noticed. He’d crept up on you, snuck his way into your heart, so easily, so effortlessly.

You remind yourself that that’s why you’re doing this. To remind yourself of life without Taehyung in it, because he’s not yours to have or to keep. He never has been. You don’t want him to be: he’s his own person. This… this desire for him; even as you try to ignore it, it keeps growing and growing: wet plaster laid down, your feelings for him painted buon fresco, added to day by day, giornata. You need it to stop. 

But it’s hard. It’s hard, when Taehyung looks like comfort, your comfort, when you want to let yourself be folded into his arms. It’s hard when the fact is that it’s not that you have to spend time with him. It’s that you want to spend time with him.  

It's hard.

(And you miss him, even when he's right there.)

You find respite in art, in painting, too intent on the motions of your work to allow yourself room to think about other things. Fall into the rhythm of it all, a quiet hush stealing over your mind, a place of both focus and calm, world settling into place around you. There’s a piece you’ve been working on for a while, a hand rising from dark water, fingertips just broaching its surface, the most tentative of touches; you layer more oil paint on the panel, dragging the bristles of the brush across the colour you’ve already laid down, brows furrowed as you do.

Taehyung normally paints with you, but not today. He knows you want space—even if he doesn’t know why—so he gives it to you. So considerate and sweet, always. Even when you’re shutting him out. You’ve been here all day: morning, afternoon, and now evening, and he’s only been in a few times, to leave you food, drinks, looking after you in a way you don’t deserve.

You’ve just lifted the brush from the canvas when an especially loud peal of thunder rolls through the air outside. The rumble starts low, rising into a rattling growl that feels like it’s shaking the very earth. It almost drowns out the sound of Taehyung’s quiet knocking, a curl of his knuckles against the open door, but you catch sight of him anyway, glancing over your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might like a drink.”

He’s barefoot, like he usually is, teal hoodie and grey sweatpants baggy, looking every inch the boyfriend you’ve always wanted and never had. His hands are cupped around a mug, steam coiling from the hot tea inside, and something in your heart twinges at his kindness and consideration even as you smile at him.

“That sounds lovely, Tae,” you say, and he takes this as an invitation to step inside, although you notice his steps are far more hesitant than they might have been before. Like he’s treading on eggshells around you. 

It’s awkward. Stilted. Taehyung’s eyes are heavy on your face as you accept the tea from his hands, trying your best to avoid brushing fingers; you turn away, pretending to turn your attention back to the drying paint on the wood panel that rests on your easel, anything to break eye contact.

And then he speaks.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Your lips are poised to drink, pursed at the rim of the mug when you freeze, eyes darting back to him.

“You’re avoiding me,” he repeats. His voice is quieter, tinged with all the confusion you’ve seen flit across his face since this whole thing started.

You slowly pull the mug away from your face, steam touching your skin like warm, wet fingers. “I’m not,” you say, even though the lie tastes bitter on your tongue. “We live together, Taehyung, it’s pretty hard to avoid you.”

When you laugh lightly, trying to lift the atmosphere, Taehyung doesn’t respond. If anything the air becomes heavier, his face an unmoving mask as his eyes churn with emotion. His LED might not be nestled in his temple any more, but you don't need to see it spinning in a distressed circle of yellow to know that Taehyung is confused.

“Why are you lying to me?”

Your eyes widen. He’s never been so direct before. (He hasn’t needed to be though, has he? Because you've never lied to him before, have you?)

“I just… I just want to know what happened. What I did wrong. I want to fix it,” Taehyung continues, and he sounds so small, so vulnerable. “Please?”

Your heart feels like it’s risen from your chest, up to your throat, making it hard to breathe. The only time he’s ever sounded like this was when—

When he’d first turned up on your doorstep, wet and scared and lonely. Not knowing if there was anyone he could trust, uncertain where he stood. 

“You didn’t do anything, Taehyung.” You try to put every ounce of feeling into your words and let him know that this is the truth. It’s not him. It’s not. “You didn’t do anything, please don’t think you did.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice rises, shaking, a bird trying to take flight on a broken wing. “If I didn’t do anything then why are you being like this? I don’t understand.”

“I’m just… trying to encourage you to be independent?”

The words sound weak to your own ears, so you can’t blame Taehyung for when his expression flickers and he looks almost incredulous.

“Independent?”

“You know,” you explain lamely. “Like… giving you space to grow. You don’t need me around all the time.”

“I don’t—” He cuts himself off. “Y/n. I want you to be there.”

“Because it’s what you’ve gotten used to.” You glance down at the drink in your hands, away from his sincere, dark eyes. “You’re just saying that because of circumstances, Taehyung.”

“I’m not!” You’ve never heard Taehyung so loud before, almost angry, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How can you think that?”

“Because it’s true!” Your own voice rises despite yourself, matching his, some frayed thing inside you finally snapping. “Why else would you want me around? No one else does! Why would you?”

You rarely raise your voice. You hate being loud, or rude, hate arguments, but there’s something boiling in your blood. Years of quiet self-deprecation, constant reminders of how you’re not really wanted; last choice, always. Single, always. Untouched, unwanted. Taehyung—beautiful, kind, sweet, lovely Taehyung—wouldn’t be here right now if he had anywhere else to go. Too beautiful and kind and sweet and lovely for you, as disappointing, undesirable as you are.

Because that’s the truth. Even if you’re surrounded by friends, warm and bright, at the end of the day, they go home with each other, to their lovers, their families, and you go home alone. At least you had, until Taehyung—and he’s only here because you were the only safe place he could run to. Not because he chose you. 

(No one chooses you. Why would they?)

Taehyung’s eyes are so big and round as he stares and stares and stares. His lips are a little parted around a soundless noise of surprise, disbelief, before he opens his mouth to respond properly.

And then all the lights go out.

Lightning flashes, throwing the room into sharp focus for just a second before the night is split apart with the loudest clap of thunder yet. Like the ground has split open, louder than anything you’ve ever heard in your life; you’d swear your teeth rattle in your skull, that’s how overwhelming and close it is.

You suck in a breath as you jump, hands jolting, and the mug falls from your grasp. You can’t see in the darkness but you can hear how it shatters, sending hot tea splattering over the dust sheets on the floor, away from you, but towards—

“Taehyung,” you gasp, reaching out blindly. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?”

You hear him move closer, feel his fingers, reaching for yours confidently in this dark space. His grip is solid and warm and he squeezes, reassuring.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. You can’t see?”

“It’s too dark.” With the heavy clouds outside and the blanket of thick rain, there’s little light from the moon to shine into your studio, leaving you in a world of thick black and blue. “Can you see?”

“Android senses,” he answers. "I can see enough."

You wait for the lights to come back on so you can clean up the mess that’s scattered on the floor. And you wait. One beat. Another beat.

“I don’t think the power is coming back on any time soon,” you say. “Um.”

“Hold on.” You can’t make out Taehyung’s features in this all consuming darkness, but you can picture the expression on his face, the concern that bleeds through into his words. “If you move you’ll step on something and hurt your feet. Hold on,” he says again, and then lets go of your hands.

“Taehyung? What are you—”

You let out an embarrassing squeal as you feel the world tilt, but Taehyung’s grip on you is confident and sure as he lifts you, one hand under your knees and the other scooped around your back. Like you’re a swooning, blushing bride.

“Taehyung!”

“It’s the safest thing to do.” He sounds determined, no room for argument, so you decide to shut up.

Even though you know how strong he is, with all his android strength, you can’t help but reach out in the darkness, looping your arms around his neck to try and help lighten his burden. You feel your cheeks burn and you hope that the darkness saves you from your obvious embarrassment. 

The power still hasn’t come on by the time he deposits you in the kitchen, easing you to the floor with a level of care and delicacy that leaves something in you aching. When you check your phone—mostly charged, thank God—it seems like powercuts have hit this entire part of the city, and there’s no ETA on when things will be back up and running.

Which leads you to this. Sitting on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, a few large candles flickering light across you as you dig into a carton of melting ice cream that you’ve saved from your freezer, licking the dripping flavours of sea salt and caramel from the spoon. 

Taehyung is sitting next to you in this flame-lit bubble you share, quiet even as the world outside is full of the sound of endless rain and lightning. He’d helped you navigate the darkness, settled you safely before going to find some candles; looking after you while you can’t see and he can.

You’re intent on the ice cream, leaning against the kitchen cabinets and carton settled between your knees as you use it as an excuse not to talk.

Taehyung, though, is intent on you.

“Y/n?”

His voice breaks the near silence, soft around your name. You pause, half-way through scooping another spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. There’s something in his tone that you’ve never heard before, from anyone, something you can’t put a finger on.

“Yes?”

“You said that no one wants you around,” he says. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your spoon and keep your gaze cast down, at the thick drip of cream from your spoon that threatens to spill. “Why would you say that?”

You don’t respond. Not right away. 

Then you take in a deep breath, letting the spoon fall back into the tub.

“Because they don’t,” you say plainly. “I mean… Taehyung. I was only at the Eden Club because my friends know that I’m perpetually single. I’m glad I got to meet you, so glad, but… I live alone because no one wants to be here with me.”

You’ve never said anything like this out loud before; kept your lingering loneliness close to your chest. Really, in most parts of your life, you’re content, but sometimes you can’t help but be pulled under by the heavy feeling of how unlovable you are. Even if you try to remind yourself that you’re worth being loved too. 

(After all, if you were—then why are you still here alone?)

“I do. I want to be here with you.”

Taehyung’s words are soft and gentle and low, but for all their tenderness, you can’t help but sigh.

“Like I said, Taehyung, it’s just circumstances.” A murmur. “You’re only here because you have to be—”

“I’m not.” He interrupts you; something he’s never done before. It shuts you right up, even if his words aren’t sharp. Emphatic, yes, but soft around the edges. “I chose to come here because of you. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. Even when I was at the club, and I didn’t know anything except what I was told to do—I knew I could trust you. I only started to remember things after we met, and I was there for weeks before I left, finally remembering the things I had to go through. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. No one was ever kind to me, not once. Not once.” 

“Taehyung,” you breathe, sadness filling your chest for him, but he doesn’t stop. 

“People would come in, take what they wanted from me, and then they would leave. They didn’t care about me. They would just tell me what to do and I’d have to listen, be the perfect android they wanted, that they’d paid for. Then I ran. But even as I was running here, I was scared. I thought that maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I was wrong. I was scared that maybe you weren’t actually kind, maybe it was a lie, maybe you were just like all the other humans—but anything was better than the club. So I took my chances. And you let me in. You let me in and you were so kind. You give and give and give and you’ve never asked for anything back.”

“I just did what anyone else would,” you mutter, glancing away, shy.

“But you didn’t. You were the only person who ever looked at me as something more than just an android. Don’t you see that? Even after giving me so much, you haven’t asked for anything. I try my best to look after you, but…” Taehyung takes in a deep, deep breath, sucking in air that his android body doesn’t need. You’ve noticed that it’s something he does to ground himself; such a human thing to do. “I want to give you so much more than you’ll ever accept.”

You look at him, something sparking deep and low in your stomach. “You don’t have to give me anything, Taehyung.”

Light dances across the perfect angles of his face, candle flame painting him from second to second, shadow and radiance. He looks familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You’ve known him for long enough, stared at him for long enough that you could paint his face in your sleep; the strength of his brows, the depth of his eyes, the slant of his nose, the flush of his lips; the tiny moles that are scattered across his skin, the perfect line of his jaw, his chin.

But in the paltry candlelight, he looks like an altogether different person, almost. There’s something to the set of his face that you’ve never seen, hard to track in the ever changing light—not the soft domesticity you’ve grown familiar with from Taehyung, and not the sheer, overwhelming sensuality of V. Something that’s both, something that’s not, something that’s more. 

“I want to give you everything. I want to. Y/n, I want. Androids don’t want, but I want. I want, I want, I want.” A repeated mantra; a prayer. “I want because of you. I want to be here with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to learn with you. I want to know everything you like and everything you don’t like. I want to know what makes you sad and what makes you happy. I want to be one of the things that makes you happy, like you make me happy. I want to look after you. I want you to let me love you. I want you. I want you. I love you.”

Your mouth is open, caught in a breath, stuttered in your throat. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from your wide-eyed, speechless gaze, staring back at you with an intensity you thought you’d never see directed at you; tenderness and affection and want.

“You want to—you… you love me?” Your voice is weak with disbelief. Taehyung loves you? 

“I thought you knew, and that’s why you pulled away,” he says. “Because I’m an android, I’m not good enough—”

“What? No, Taehyung, never, no. I would never think that—” 

“But you were pushing me away.” For the first time since this conversation started, he sounds unsure, the tiniest tremble at the corner of each word. “You were pushing me away and I don’t know why. Why?” He reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “Aren’t you happy with me?” 

You wonder how fast your heart is beating. Know that Taehyung will be able to read it, palm to palm, his skin against yours, an endless amount of information running from that point of contact and up his arm; following lines of circuitry and neural connectors, up-up-up, pulled into whatever part of his system counts as his brain, dissected so much faster than the human brain could comprehend. But even with all this information, all this incredible processing speed and power—he’s just as confused and uncertain as any other person might be.

“I am. I am happy. So happy,” you whisper. Then you take a deep breath, grounding yourself just like Taehyung had. “I’ve never been so happy before, Taehyung. You make me happy.”

The android smiles. Quiet but undeniably happy as well, his eyes so dark, so soft. “You make me happy, too,” he says, and then he lets out a small laugh, a sweet little thing, like the scrape of a spoon around a mixing bowl. “I can only feel happiness because of you. You’re everything.” 

But then the laughter fades, and he’s looking back at you with solemnity, lingering confusion. “If I make you happy, then why were you pulling away from me?”

You stare at where your hands are joined, Taehyung’s hand under yours, lifting yours up and away from the cold tiles of the floor. “Because,” you start. Stumble. Take in another breath, heart squeezing in your chest. “Because I was scared my feelings were too much.”

A beat of silence. Then you feel Taehyung’s other hand as he lays it softly against your cheek to turn you towards him. It’s terrifying, how close your face is to his. Completely vulnerable, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, and you find yourself crumbling in the face of his warm gaze.

“Because I thought I was taking advantage of you,” you say. Slow and faltering. “Because I thought it was—I thought I was being selfish. I realised that I loved you, and I can’t—I couldn’t imagine that… I couldn’t imagine that you wanted me back.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as your words wash over him. The hand on your cheek coaxes you closer, and of course, you go; let your forehead get pressed against his, a tender motion, faces so close he can feel the warmth of your breath. 

“Y/n.” Your name sounds safe in his mouth, like he’s keeping it close, handling it delicately, carefully, eyes opening so he can look at you with an adoration you’ve never seen. Not for you. Not until now. “Can I kiss you? I want to. Please?”

You feel heat rising on your cheeks, a flush that threatens to spill over, but nod. You don’t think you have the strength to speak right now. Taehyung smiles again, lighting up this space you’ve scraped out for each other, him and you; you and him.

When he leans in, there’s the briefest moment of panic that flickers through you. You haven’t kissed anyone in such a long time. You’re worried you’ll mess up, be clumsy, bad, and Taehyung will be disappointed. 

But then his lips touch yours—and all that worry washes away. It’s a short-lived thing, the briefest brush of his mouth, barely a kiss at all. And then again, he leans in, tracing the shape of your mouth with his: a kiss to one corner of your mouth, and then the other, your cupid’s bow, the swell of your bottom lip. You’ve never felt like this—vulnerable but safe, all at once, Taehyung taking his time as you fall, fall, fall, his hand still cradling your face, his touch solid and grounding even as his kisses are featherlight.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, lips brushing his as you shape them around his name. You still have one hand in his and tighten your grip, squeezing. “More.”

You can feel his smile when he leans in one more time, guiding you with the broad palm against your cheek. So soft, so gentle. Adoring and reverent. His lips are so full, slotting against yours so perfectly when he finally, finally kisses you properly. 

You lose yourself in the sensation. It’s so easy to lose yourself in Taehyung, as lovely as he is, his mouth lovelier still. One kiss turns to two, to three, four, deep and slow; by the time you break apart, there’s a little sheen on his lips, sparking out in the candlelight, a layer of gold leaf that shines. 

“Can you say it again?” He asks. “Say that you love me?”

You can’t help but want to hide your face, bashful and shy. You’ve never said those words out loud, with the weight of feeling Taehyung is asking from you—but you look at his lovely, lovely face, lips flush with evidence of your kisses, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you.” The words come so easily. “I love you.”

And when he smiles, it’s so bright and radiant you feel you might be blinded by it. It doesn’t leave his face even as he stands, guides you up with him; careful to avoid the tub of ice cream that’s been forgotten on the floor, more melted cream than ice now.

This time, when he lifts you, he doesn’t break eye contact—keeps his gaze on yours as he pulls you close, and then picks you up.

It’s effortless, the way he carries you. Big hands that cup the back of your thighs, your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, lifted like you weigh nothing. You break eye contact, overwhelmed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the way he shakes as he laughs, soft and affectionate.

“Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed, but then go quiet as you feel the press of his lips into your hair.

Taehyung’s the only person who’s ever carried you, but it’s less about that and more about how safe you feel in his arms. Wrapped around him, pressed close, warm-warm-warm. You feel like a burden has been lifted from you, unshackled from your neck now that you’ve confessed the budding feelings that had burst into full bloom even when you’d tried to shove them back into the dirt—because Taehyung feels the same way. He feels the same way.

The rest of the apartment is still bathed in darkness. But Taehyung navigates it easily, keeps you held close even in the dark, and you trust him. Even when you feel his grip loosening as he eases you down, you trust him, letting yourself fall back onto the softness of your bed. (Even if you want to keep hold of him.)

You wait and watch as the room starts to fill with light, Taehyung returning with the lit candles from the kitchen before setting out more, laying out all the scented candle jars you’ve had stashed away. The familiar surroundings of your bedroom are bathed in warm, dancing light, Taehyung’s shadow a multi-faceted silhouette that shifts each time a flame sputters.

He looks up once the final candle is aflame, meeting your eyes—and you don’t feel the need to drop that gaze, to glance away, pretend you weren’t watching him, entranced. Because he welcomes it. He grins at you, toothy and bright, and your own lips split into a smile.

“I guess it’s a good thing I like candles, huh?”

“They’ll help keep the room warm,” Taehyung says, and, that’s right, you hadn’t thought of that. 

No power: no heating. The longer the power is out, the colder it’ll get, the chill of the hard rain filling the world outside.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, setting the lighter aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”

There’s nothing behind those words. No implication at all. And yet you find yourself flushing, looking away from him, flustered.

There’s a beat of silence as you keep your eyes turned away from Taehyung, looking at the shadows on shadows on shadows that ripple across the walls—and then you hear how his bare feet shift across the floor until he’s at your bedside.

But he doesn’t stop there. You feel how the mattress dips, eyes flying back to the android, growing huge and round when you watch how he settles himself above you; hovering, so so so close, aware of how he’s not touching you, and yet. You swear you can feel the weight of him, a phantom touch on your body and across your skin.

Your mouth goes dry when he murmurs your name. The word drips from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet, and a shiver skates up your body.

“Do you want me to keep you warm?” He asks, and, oh. Oh. This time the words are heavy with meaning, shimmering gossamer curtains barely drawn to conceal it, smouldering intent in his eyes. “Let me look after you?”

You’re reminded, all at once, that while you’ve taught Taehyung a lot of things since you’d met, there’s one thing he knows that you don’t. Intimacy, and pleasure, and lust. Sex. Something you’ve been deprived of, even if you’ve quietly craved it, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person.

Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.

“Only if you want,” he says. “Only if you want to say yes.”

“I want to,” you say, surprised by how fast the admittance leaves your lips. You do want it—want Taehyung, in every way he’s willing to share, want it desperately. “I just—” Embarrassment floods over you, and you look away again. “I’ve just never… done anything. Before. I’ve never, um.”

“It’s okay to be a virgin, Y/n,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but squirm a little at how plainly he says it while you try to avoid saying it out loud, even if you know it’s stupid. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know that, but for some reason you feel almost ashamed at admitting it. Insecure. Even if the android clearly doesn’t care, not one bit. “We can go as slow as you want, or stop altogether. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”

You’re nervous. But louder than your nerves is a growing voice that’s chanting yesyesyes, and another voice that reminds you: you’re safe with Taehyung. No matter how nervous or uncertain you are, or how little you know, you do know that you’re safe with him.

“Okay.” You take in a breath. “Take care of me, Taehyung.”

And he does. With all the slowness of a meandering river and a smile curling his lips, he starts to kiss you again; there’s nothing rushed about his motions, as tender as before. Like the two of you could kiss forever and he would be content with that. 

And then you feel how he shifts, the softness of the kisses warming into something heavier, more purposeful. The glowing embers of a coal that are being coaxed to full flame, his tongue pressing past your willing lips, swallowing down the shaking gasp that shudders out of your mouth.

He trails his lips away from yours, across your jaw and up; you shiver as he noses at the soft skin behind your ear before kissing it, tremble at each intent touch of his lips against you, and it’s only when he reaches the hollow of your neck that you realise that you’re making noises, little inhalations of air each time he mouths at your sensitive skin, lets his tongue trail across it.

You’ve been holding onto him, hands cupped around the back of his neck, and when he sucks at your pulse point you tighten your fingers and let out a gasp. You can feel the answering hum that Taehyung gives, his mouth pressed so close that you can feel the vibrations, and it’s so much already. No one’s ever kissed you like this. No one's ever eased their weight down on you so carefully, pressing you down to the mattress with a delicate, delicious pressure that leaves your entire body growing hotter and hotter.

“Oh, oh, Taehyung.” You’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sound if you weren’t so distracted by something else—one of Taehyung’s hands, splaying over your stomach, heavy through your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He’s murmuring into the crook of your neck, question warm against your skin. His long fingers rest, waiting at the hem of your shirt, patient even as he presses another kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder: this time, edged with teeth, making you shudder as he soothes it with his tongue.

Your voice fails you, but when you nod, Taehyung responds immediately. You let him lead, follow the steps of this dance he knows so well—shiver at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt once you've sat up, your stomach jumping as they brush against you, before he lifts it up and over your waiting arms.

Even though you’re wearing a bra, the second you see Taehyung’s eyes move down, you cover yourself reflexively. Even with all the flickering candles there’s enough light that there’s no darkness to hide in, shoulders hunching inwards as you try to hide yourself away. 

You’ve never let anyone see you like this like this before.

Taehyung’s touch is patient as he slides his hands over yours, looking at you with an infinite amount of sincerity and affection. He doesn’t try to pull your hands away from your chest, just waits. Patient. And like you always do, you find yourself melting under the gentle touch of his gaze. You let your hands fall, even if you’re acutely aware of the plain bra you’re wearing, something cosy for a day at home.

Taehyung ignores it. He shifts in and you steel yourself, expecting him to reach around your back for the clasp—but instead he starts to kiss you again. Deeper, hotter, his tongue sweeping over your lower lip before he nips at it. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, angling your head to chase his mouth, and it’s only when you feel the straps start to slip off your shoulders that the android has unclasped your bra without you noticing.

When he pulls away, he trails his hands across your shoulders and hooks his fingers into the trailing straps of your bra, and waits. You bite your lip and steel yourself, feeling foolish even as you hesitate—because Taehyung is looking at you with simmering awe and smouldering want. Like you're perfect. The most beautiful woman alive. 

So you don’t stop him. You let him pull his touch down your arms, slow, slow, slow—and then, all at once, you’re completely naked from the waist up.

That simmering awe and smouldering want is still there. Warmth flushes over your skin under the heat of his gaze, the way it sweeps over you. You never knew that someone could look reverent and hungry at the same time. Never knew that someone would look at you like that.

It bolsters your shaking confidence, helps you lift your chin as you lean back on your hands, and you’re entranced at how Taehyung follows. Caught in your gravity. He raises his arms, bra cast aside and long forgotten as he cups the weight of your breasts in his hands.

Oh, oh, oh. When he pinches one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger—already hard, sensitive—it’s already so much, but then he bows his head and—

You hear a noise, and you realise that it’s coming from your own lips. A shaking gasp that trembles in the air as Taehyung sucks and licks, dragging his tongue against your nipple; one, and the other. You fall once more to your back and he goes with you, relentless even as he stays slow and you arch your back helplessly towards him.

“More?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Oh, God,” you whimper, and he lifts his mouth away from your nipple to press a kiss to the skin above your racing heart. “Please, more.”

It feels so good. Taehyung makes you feel so good, as talented and gorgeous as he is, so wonderful. He keeps laving attention on your breasts, hands skimming over the soft skin of your chest and stomach, goosebumps rising in the wake of his trailing fingers, his warm palms.

You can’t look away when he finally pulls back, breathless from the sensation of it all. He settles on his knees, tugs off his hoodie and then his shirt, revealing all the lovely planes of his body that you’ve seen before, but this time, you don’t have to look away. You can look.

And you can touch, too. 

You sit up and raise a tentative hand to stroke down his chest, his stomach, that little trail of dark hair that descends into his loose grey sweatpants; your mouth goes dry at the sight. Taehyung watches the way your fingers drag over his skin, growing bolder moment by moment, but still too timid to venture past his waistband, low on his hips as they are. You’ve never had a chance to touch someone like this, to feel the smooth, soft skin under your greedy palms—Taehyung’s so warm, so alive. So human.

You think about the other hands he’s had on his skin. Grasping and greedy, taking and taking. People who didn’t care for him. People he couldn’t say no to. But he’s here with you because he wants to be. He lets you touch him because he wants it.

“Angel?” 

You glance up at the sound of the gentle pet name, away from where your hands have been tenderly tracing the lines of his hipbone. “Mm?”

Taehyung’s expression is soft and affectionate. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” you answer honestly. He leans over to kiss you, and you’re smiling against his mouth when you feel the hand on your shoulder, pressing you down against the mattress again.

Then. His hands are at your waistband. Your breath quickens, but Taehyung’s eyes stay on your face even as your breasts rise and fall, shining with evidence of the touch of his mouth and tongue.

You lift your hips, and Taehyung smiles. Keeps smiling as he strips you, underwear and all, and when your thighs instinctively go to close shut, he catches your knees and keeps your legs open—gentle but firm, swiping his thumbs up and down the side of your knees, a tender touch even as you’re naked in front of him. You see the look on his face, drenched in candlelight, and swallow even as you force your legs to relax.

Then he looks down.

“Oh, God,” he groans, and one of your legs jumps in his grasp at the sound of his voice. Hoarse and deep. Almost unrecognisable. “Oh, angel, look at you.”

You’re so, so wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, so sensitive and responsive to every single one of Taehyung’s touches and kisses. The edges of his hair are spun gold in the candlelight but his eyes are so deep, so dark as he drinks down the sight of you spread out in front of him, wet and wanting and willing. You still want to hide away, cheeks burning, but you can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from how he seems almost pained, brows drawing together as he stares at the shining, flushed lips of your cunt.

“Taehyung.” Your voice shakes. “Taehyung, please.”

You're naked and vulnerable but—but the way he looks at you is so adoring, and you trust him. You trust him.

Just like earlier, his hands cup the back of your thighs. But this time, it’s not to carry you. You twist on the bed when he ends up eye level with your dripping cunt, utterly exposed. Those hands slide up your thighs and under your hips, tilting them up. Your fingers have been resting on the bedspread and tighten in them, bunching in your grasp when Taehyung presses a kiss to the softness of your inner thigh. 

One kiss. And then another. And another. His breath is warm as it curls out across your skin. You feel like you’re about to shake out of your body, wanting to pull away, wanting to lean in; wanting more, even when it feels like too much. Overcome with it all, even if you trust Taehyung. Safe under his hands, his lips. All you can think about is how close he is, face only inches away from your most sensitive parts—

Then he turns his head and—

The noise you let out is almost a keen. His mouth is on you, hot and wet, lips and tongue, and you’re writhing, overwhelmed with sensation. He starts slow, balls of your feet digging into Taehyung’s back and toes curling as he mouths at you. Your hips buck, and your hands are tangled in Taehyung’s hair—when did that happen?—as you sob at the feeling of his lips around your clit, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but so so so good. 

He licks a fat stripe up your entrance and your grip tightens in his hair. He makes a noise when your nails drag across his scalp, almost a growl, face still buried between your legs as he presses his tongue in. You’d worry that he needs to come up for air, but he doesn’t, doesn’t have to stop—keeps licking and kissing and humming, responding to each of the sounds pulling out of your lips. Keeps staring up at you, your eyes locked, the way you can’t look away from the sight of his head between your legs, dark haired and incredible.

You don’t realise you’re speaking, words slipping out of your lips as your hips roll, oh-oh-oh, fuck, God, oh, and Taehyung doesn’t stop. On his knees, he worships you, learning what you like—things you didn’t even know—and does it again, and again, and again. One of his hands slides away from your hips and over your stomach, holding you down, keeping you still, and then the other hand—

He turns his head, presses a kiss to the junction of your thigh. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, shaky and weak. So okay, more than okay.

“Going to finger you now,” Taehyung says, and you feel like you’re going to die.

“Okay,” you say again. “Okay, Taehyung.”

He smiles at you before he puts his mouth back to your clit, sucking, a welcome distraction as—with all the languidness in the world—presses a finger into you.

You’ve fingered yourself before. You’ve got your own toys, vibrators, things that are longer and thicker than just one of Taehyung’s fingers—but this feels so different, out of your control. One finger becomes two, your cunt so wet that the slide in is easy, slow, deep thrusts of those long fingers inside you, and you’re panting, you’re so fucking overwhelmed.

And then he curls those fingers as he laps his tongue over your clit and you almost shout, Taehyung’s name bursting from your lips as he keeps beckoning with those fingers and circling the sensitive nub with his hot, wet tongue. It’s so much, it’s so fucking much, it’s so good and you’ve never felt so good before—

You’re almost blindsided by the orgasm that explodes through you and you come apart with a sound you didn’t realise you were capable of making, a gasping moan that keeps unfurling as Taehyung keeps his mouth on you, feeling each pulse of your cunt as you cum around his fingers, tight-tight-tight. (You miss the way his hips kick into the mattress that the sounds you’re making, how much you tighten around him.) You never thought you’d be so loud, never thought you’d end up all but sobbing as Taehyung eventually leans back, candlelight brushing shining gold over the wetness over his mouth, his chin. Your wetness.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

Little jolts of pleasure are still wracking through you, pulsations of pleasure that unfurl in your lower stomach; Taehyung rubs the pad of his thumb across your oversensitive clit and your entire body jumps, your legs going to snap shut as you gasp, only stopped by his body in the way. You realise, then, that his fingers are still curled inside you, and you shiver.

“One more,” he says, and your whole body shakes. “Can I give you one more?”

He still looks reverent, and hungry. Like he wants to devour you. Taehyung is usually so soft, a gentle summer breeze—but right now he’s so intense it might scare you if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Taehyung, and there’s something—there’s something about knowing that he looks like that because of you. 

You let your legs fall open, watch how pleased he looks; how grateful. Like he's blessed to be able to do this to you. For you. You’re still so sensitive when he lowers his head again, but he’s slow and patient and coaxing, two fingers becoming three, and—that’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it feels good, Taehyung knowing exactly what to do to make you sob, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pulls you along that line between oversensitivity and mind numbing pleasure. This time, when you cum, it’s with three fingers buried deep in your cunt, the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit, back arching as you throw your head back and cry out. Your pussy throbs and it's so dirty, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you, the slick sound of movement as you moan, and moan, and moan.

No one's ever made you cum before. Only you. And now you know what it's like to put your pleasure in someone else's hands, to have them intent on making you feel good, so good, and it leaves you dizzy. 

He’s praising you, you note dimly. He’s praising you, how well you’re doing, how good you are for him, and it leaves you feeling warm. You’re panting when Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you, moves so he can brace himself on his elbows and lean in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his skin against yours, chest to chest, his weight pressing you down and then you can feel—

You let out a noise against his lips. There’s nothing else that can be, that hot weight. You might not have felt it before, but you’re not stupid. That’s Taehyung’s cock, his hard length pressed against you.

“Taehyung,” you murmur.

“Mm.” He brushes his nose against yours, and the wave of affection that crashes through you is so strong it feels like it could pull you under. You didn’t realise that sex could be like this—that lingering shockwaves of pleasure could be skirting through your body as you lay there naked, still aroused and almost overcome, but also feeling so warm and soft and tender, too. 

You feel lax after cumming, a little more confident, bolder—and the noise Taehyung makes as you clumsily grasp at him through his sweatpants is incredible. You feel like you could get high on it, the way he sucks in a gasp as his mouth falls open, even if you don’t know what you’re doing as your fingers wrap around cloth and hard heat.

“Please,” you start, then stop. Swallow. “Please, Taehyung.”

You want so much you feel like you could pass out. You want to feel and touch and taste; you want everything you haven’t had a chance to experience yet, want it with Taehyung, someone who you trust. Someone you love. Someone who knows far, far more than you—will always know more—and you want to learn that from him. 

“Want you,” you say, and Taehyung looks pained all over again. He wants you, too.

“Fuck.” The word is rough, and you’ve never heard him curse before. The way he says it has something in you singing, as strange as that might be; you don’t think you’re ever going to get over how much you affect Taehyung. “What do you want from me, angel?”

Everything, you think. I want everything. 

“Let me see?” is what you say, squeezing your fingers around Taehyung’s length, feeling the way his hips buck into the touch. “Please?”

You never thought that someone taking their clothes off could be artistic. And yet, there’s something about Taehyung moving to stand and stripping off the rest of his clothes that’s completely arresting and beautiful; carnal and holy, all at once. You don’t even realise your mouth is open as you sit up and watch him, moving closer as you drink down the sight, the way he’s naked in front of you.

Taehyung. Naked. Naked and beautiful and hard, and it’s so overwhelming, everything about it, how much you want and how—oh, God, how big and thick he is, obvious even to you, someone with nothing to compare it to. Holy fuck. Should you think that his dick is pretty? Can dicks even be pretty? Taehyung’s is. Of course it is. He’s gorgeous all over. Maybe you’re biased because it’s him, but there’s something about the sight of his hard cock, precome gathering at his slit, that makes your mouth water.

Taehyung goes to say something, but before you can lose your nerve, you move forwards, and whatever he was going to say is lost in the sound of a choked off groan. He tastes like salt and musk, hot under your inexperienced hands and mouth, and you don’t know what you’re doing but the noises he’s making, fuck. You run your tongue up the throb of a vein you can feel on the underside, and all you can think about is how big he is, slow and careful with your teeth and lips as you try your best to do whatever feels good for him. 

His noises seem almost frantic but Taehyung’s hands are gentle when they comb through your hair. You look up. There’s a flush on his cheeks—red, not blue, you notice—and you pause, pulling off, suddenly shy after the burst of confidence that had you swallowing his cock down.

“Is this—is this okay?” You’ve still got your fingers wrapped around him, and maybe it’s a little ridiculous to be asking with spit and precome shining on your lips, but Taehyung’s answering smile is so affectionate.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and you know he’s not just talking about your clumsy blowjob. “Do you want to stop?”

You bite your lip and pump his length, which has Taehyung sucking a breath in. “I—what do you want?”

Something flashes through Taehyung’s eyes, and it feels like there’s electricity shooting down your spine before that look disappears. “This is about you, angel,” he says. “We can worry about what I want next time.”

Next time. This is the first time but it’s not the last. Oh, God. God.

Taehyung takes advantage of your distraction and hikes you up and away from the edge of the bed. It leaves you breathless, knowing how strong he is, how easily he can move you, even if he’s gentle-gentle-gentle. He settles in the cradle of your hips, and he’s so close, naked body flush with yours, covering you. His cock is so close—he just has to shift a little, just a little, and—well. 

Before that, though, there’s something you need to know.

“Taehyung?” Your voice shakes but you have to ask.

“Yes?”

“Is this. Um. Does this feel good for you, too?”

You’re always aware of the fact Taehyung is an android, even if he looks and feels and is human, too. (It doesn’t matter that he’s made of metal and thirium and circuitry. He’s human.) You lift a hand and thumb at the soft skin of his temple, where his LED used to sit; you don’t know how to communicate that you love him regardless, that it doesn’t matter to you if he's a man or robot. But you’ve wondered—you know Taehyung was built to pleasure humans. Even if he’s been reacting, making noises, looks for all intents and purposes that he is enjoying this—what if it’s all programming? What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s something you want?

He leans into your touch. “Angel.” It sounds like the word is being scraped out of him, hoarse and deep, all dark heat. “It feels good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He rolls his hips almost imperceptibly, but you’re hyperaware of every motion, how close you are. Your breath stutters in your throat.

"I want you to feel good," he says. "I've wanted to feel you and taste you for so long. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to know what you feel like around me. Under me. On top of me. You make me feel so fucking good, you don't even know," and, oh, fuck, those words go right through you, settle deep in your belly, leave you breathless. Taehyung sucks at your pulse point and you melt, even as your skin feels like it's burning, so hot, every part of you so hot, so ready for him.

Taehyung’s big enough that you’re worried about how he’s going to fit, even if you’re slick and wet and so, so turned on—you know about the importance of lube, used it often enough by yourself, but when you mention it to Taehyung he just smiles.

“Don’t forget that I’m a sex android,” he says, and before you can ask exactly what he means by that, you feel the tip of his cock at your folds and the question dies on your tongue.

“Please,” is what leaves your lips. “Please, please, please.”

“Anything you want,” he says, and eases his hips forwards.

Slow, and hard, and wet, the head of Taehyung’s cock starts to press into you. You grab at his back, digging your fingers in; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, a not-quite-pain as he pushes in—but it’s a lot, even if the slide is smooth, so smooth, from your own wetness and the slickness that covers Taehyung’s cock. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and it feels—astonishing, the way you can feel yourself open up for him, the way it feels like he’s filling every part of you, throbbing heat.

“Oh, oh God,” you gasp. 

Taehyung’s forehead is pressed to yours, the loose locks of his dark hair framing his face as he waits, hips snug with yours. You shiver and move your hips a little, entire body seizing at the sensation of him shifting inside you. It's so new and alien, having someone nestled inside you, against you, so close in every sense of the term, above you, around you, inside you—but it feels… good.

And when he moves, it’s so, so slow. Slow and smooth as he works you open, even if you feel so tight around him. You drag your nails down his shoulder blades when he moves a little faster, a little roll of the hips that has you gasping all over again.

“More,” you say, and he gives you more.

You feel so full. You feel full of Taehyung, inside and out—the way his body is still pressing you down, skin on skin, how hot he is.

They call it making love, and it’s not until now that you really understand what that means—how you can feel Taehyung’s soft and tender affection in his every motion, read it in every shift of his body, the lines of his face, his lips; the way his eyes are dark but full of wonder, shining with love for you, pleasure singing through every inch of you, centred around Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Each noise that falls from his lips is an echo of that love. Even when he leans back and takes you with him—settles on his knees, pulls your hips from the mattress to stay connected to you as your shoulder blades dig into the mattress, his cock in your cunt—there’s tenderness there, even if you’re both chasing mutual lines of pleasure. You feel almost dazed, dizzy with love and arousal, reaching out for him, and he catches your hand. The other stays at your waist, guiding you onto him, again and again, each roll of hips into yours.

“Taehyung,” you gasp, voice breaking on his name when he thrusts into you. He’s been increasing the pace, faster and sharper, harder, and it’s so-so-so much, so good. “I’m—Taehyung, I’m close, I wanna cum again, pleasepleaseplease—”

He lets go of your hand and then he’s thumbing at your clit and you’re cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, Taehyung’s cock still hard and insistent inside you as you ride out your orgasm, pulsing around him. You’re gasping and making noises like you’re falling apart, and there’s something desperate in Taehyung’s eyes, something dark and wanton. 

“Angel, I’m going to cum soon,” he says, and you moan in response, hazy. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You shake your head no. You want to know what it feels like, to have Taehyung lose himself inside you. You’re about to reach out for him when he hooks his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up—you suck in a sharp breath as he starts to move again, almost bent in two, his face so close to yours. It's not rough but something about Taehyung taking control like that has you baring your throat, arching your back and throwing your head back. The hold he has on you is firm, and you feel how it tightens as his thrusts speed up, and then, fuck—

When Taehyung cums it’s around the gasp of your name, a hitching sound as he empties himself inside you, throbbing and hot. You let out an answering sound, the two of you locked together until Taehyung pulls out, careful and slow; you feel like a sweaty mess, empty without him inside you, but then his hands are so carefully cupping your face and he’s kissing you over and over and over. It leaves you feeling breathless, all those little kisses, struggling for air by the time you part, every part of you lax under his loving touch. 

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung murmurs, soft and sweet. 

“Good,” you murmur back. And then your nose crinkles. “Sweaty.”

Taehyung laughs, quiet and low. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you breathe him in. You do feel sweaty, and there’s an ache settling inside you, but it’s a good ache. A glowing ache, an unfamiliar one, but one that you know you'll get to feel again, with Taehyung.

You’ve just leaned back to take him in all over again, painted syrupy sweet in the golden candlelight—when the lights suddenly turn back on. It floods your eyes and you make a noise of surprised pain as you squint against the sudden brightness, but then you start to giggle, shock melting into laughter.

When your laughter dies you realise Taehyung’s been watching you. The room is full of shining light now, and you realise you’re still naked, entire body shaking as you’ve been giggling. You’d feel embarrassed about your nakedness if you hadn’t just shared yourself with him, bared yourself in ways that are more than skin deep. There’s an instinctual part of you that wants to cover up now that there’s nowhere to hide, no flickering shadows to cover up the parts of your body that you don’t like, the flaws you don’t want Taehyung to see. But he just looks fond, fond, fond, love and affection dripping off him as he watches the way you smile shyly up at him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says, and smiles back, wide and bright. 

You love him. You love him, and he loves you, and you trust that love. As hard as it might be to believe, you trust that this is what he wants—that you’re what he wants.

“Do you want me to carry you to the shower?” he asks, and you can’t help but laugh again, warm through and through, how he’s still taking care of you.

“Not yet,” you say. 

You end up against his chest, wrapped close. You’ve laid your head in his lap countless times, but he’s never been on his back before, never had his arms around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Taehyung might not have a heart, but the thirium pump nestled in his chest beats steady as you stay nestled against his side. 

You’re drawing little circles on his skin with your fingers when he catches that hand and lifts it to his mouth, presses a tender kiss to your fingertips.

“I love you,” he says.

You feel like liquid sunlight, shining happiness as you melt, melt, melt. And the feeling stays, body filled with it, even after Taehyung coaxes you out of bed and into the shower to wash the sweat off your body; when he drags a soapy loofah over your back you can’t help but laugh, so in love, so loved.

And when you fall asleep, it’s not with your head on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s with his arms around you, his chest to your back, his body curved around you. You don’t want tonight to end, but you also can’t wait for tomorrow, knowing that it’s another day with him, with Taehyung, your Taehyung. You never thought that love would be like this, never thought that you’d feel love like this, cared for and protected and loved, loved, loved.

“Not staying late?”

You pause in the process of shoving everything into your bag. Hoseok is leaning against your desk, a smile curling at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at you, almost suggestive.

“Nah, I’ve got a dinner to get to,” you say. 

“You seem a lot happier lately,” Hoseok comments, and when you don’t fall for the bait, he wiggles his eyebrows. “The girls think that you’ve got a secret boyfriend that you’re too shy to tell anyone about.”

Taehyung still greets you every day when you get home. But now, every greeting is punctuated with a kiss—and sometimes a little more. When you stop to think about it, it’s startling, this thing that Taehyung’s taught you. That the simplest of things can turn into something more, love edged with lust, that it’s all part and parcel of loving someone, being with them, being comfortable with them. Just the other day you’d been reading on the sofa, and then Taehyung’s fingers had curved over your thigh and the tablet had fallen from your hands—

Hoseok clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out again,” he says.

“I am not,” you say, zoning back in. “I was thinking about if I needed to buy any food on the way home.”

“To feed that secret boyfriend of yours?” Hoseok says, and you laugh in his face.

“Definitely not to feed the rumour mill,” you say. Hoseok pouts but it’s good natured, and he waves you off with a smile, letting you leave the office without trapping you in an interrogation for the gossip you’re certain your coworkers are hungry for.

It’s your turn to cook for Yoongi and Seokjin, so you’ve got to get home to help Taehyung. Both men had been spectacularly unsurprised when they’d found out about the two of you. Yoongi had remained calm as Seokjin crowed in delight, proclaiming I knew it, I knew that’s why you were avoiding Taehyung. 

“Feel lucky, Y/n,” Yoongi had said. “At least Taehyung has a sense of decorum and shame.”

“I think it’s a shame that my boyfriend is such a party pooper,” Jin had said. “I demand a dinner party! To celebrate your new relationship! Oh, I’m going to bake the biggest cake.”

“Oh my God,” you’d said, and Taehyung had just smiled.

The truth is that you’re grateful for your neighbours and their support, grateful for their friendship. Just because Taehyung looks human doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him, worry that someone might discover that he’s a deviant; Jin’s slipped under the radar for long enough, and you hope it’s the same for Tae, too. And yet you can’t help but think about it, think about the present, the future, how your lives are going to unfold as time goes by.

When the door swings open to your apartment, though, that’s the last thing on your mind. All that’s on your mind is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, your love appearing just as you’ve kicked your shoes off, all bright pink hair and dark eyes and welcoming hands.

“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.

“Hi,” he says, smiling so brightly, and then he kisses you.

You’re never going to get tired of kissing Taehyung; never going to get tired of how his mouth fits against yours, so perfect and sweet. But then he crowds you against the wall, swallowing down your gasp before kissing down your neck, running his teeth so gently across your skin.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, words dripping hot and slow. “Been thinking about you.”

“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Taehyung, we need to cook dinner.”

“We have time,” he says, and when he picks you up, you don’t protest. You go easily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, heat already gathering in your stomach as he walks the familiar path to your bedroom.

You have time: today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You have time with Taehyung, to learn with him, to love him. To be loved back. You don’t know what’s coming on the horizon, what the future holds—but then again, you never have.

There’s one thing you know now, though. No matter what happens, Taehyung will be at your side, and you’ll be at his. He wants you, and he loves you. You want him, and you love him. 

“I love you,” you murmur, and Taehyung kisses the words off your lips, lets the promise of your love settle inside him, warm and soft and safe.

“I love you too,” he says, and then you’re too busy to say anything, after that.

taglist:  @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove​ @jalexad​ @beingbeings​ @lorielulu7​ ​ (can’t tag: @jeon-joon-kook)

[chococobi]

Sun in the rain

Pairing: crush!sunwoo x gn!reader

AU/Genre: Highschool!au, friends-to-lovers!au, fluff

Warnings: none :]

Word count: 1.5k 

Summary: is it possible for one of the most stressful days to turn into the one of the most special? With the help of your best friend maybe

a/n: I really didn’t know where this story was going but I tried to make it work :) I’m so sorry if there are any spelling errors. 

It was a Wednesday morning and you had just woken up from the awful sound of your neighbor's lawnmower. 

Looking over, 9:48 displayed on your clock making you gasp in disbelief. You only had 12 minutes to get ready for school. Practically launching yourself off your bed, you ran to the bathroom and got ready for your day. 

As you were heading out the door, you grabbed a piece of toast your mom made and booked it out with only 2 - 4 minutes to get to school.

Once you stepped through the school gates, the bell rang making you just in time. You spotted your best friend Sunwoo approaching you as you tried to your breath from all that running. 

���Did you see my text this morning? Apparently not hm?” he laughed and brushed some of your hair strands away from your face.

Your face tinted a soft rose colour from his sudden touch. You patted your pockets to find your phone but soon realized you forgot it back at home. “Great, I forgot my phone at home” you said rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“Dummy” Sunwoo whispered under his breath and let out a slight chuckle as you two began walking to your class. 

time skip eHE :]  

The afternoon came around before you knew it and the school day had ended. Of course with your luck, it was raining on the day you didn’t have your umbrella. You decided to wait by the entrance of the school to see if the rain would stop but as the second grew it only fell worse. 

You let out a groan because you not only didn’t bring an umbrella, you also were only in a thin sweater. You didn’t have time to check the weather this morning and assumed it would be a sunny day, it turned out to be the complete opposite. Everyone including Sunwoo had already gone home so you couldn’t ask to share an umbrella either. 

Today was already such a mess you thought to yourself so, you decided to just pick up your bag and start sprinting back home. The puddles of water splashed all over your clothes as your feet ran faster than ever. By the time you got home, you were completely soaked. Not an inch of your clothes was dry. 

You searched through your bag trying to find your keys but to your total surprise, they were nowhere to be found. You must’ve left them on your bed this morning and your mom had locked the door when she went to work. You couldn’t even call her since your phone was locked inside. 

At this point, you were at your peak and completely broke down onto the wet ground. Tears ran down your cheeks like the rain. You were stuck outside your house, completely soaked, on a chilly day, just waiting to catch a cold.

After a few moments of crying passed, you remembered Sunwoo lives a few minutes from your house and could maybe ask to stay for a bit. There was a slight hesitation in you, feeling shy about showing up at his house but it was either that or to catch a cold. So, you lifted yourself off of the ground and again, ran through the rain towards his house. 

You soon reached his house and knocked on the door, seconds passed by until it finally opened. Sunwoo’s heart ached after seeing you in this state. You let out a sob and broke down in front of him.

“What in the world happened?” He said taking you inside. He brought you a towel attempting to dry your clothes and hair. All you could do was just sob more. “Wait nono don’t cry, I- wha-“ he panicked not knowing what to do. 

Sunwoo quickly ran somewhere and came back, handing you a hoodie. “Here, change into some dry clothes before you catch a cold, follow me”, he shyly said and grabbed your hand leading u into his bedroom-bathroom. 

“You can change in there, I’ll be here” he said laying down on his bed. You nodded and stepped into the bathroom. You tried to calm down not wanting to annoy him with your sobbing and changed into his hoodie. 

Looking in the mirror, you giggled at yourself because his hoodie looked huge on you considering he was so much taller. The scent on the hoodie was also pretty soothing, it had a soft smell of laundry detergent. 

Your cheeks burned a bright red because you’ve never really worn any of his clothes before. Just the thought of it brought butterflies to your stomach. 

You walked out of the bathroom with your soaked clothes in hand and spotted Sunwoo who was still laying on his bed. He looked up and made eye contact with you. He could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat after seeing how small you looked in his hoodie. 

“Y-you alright now?” he asked. “Yeah, I’m sorry I caused a ruckus” you replied back still somewhat sniffling. “It’s fine, you can come sit here if you want, oh and what even happened? You came to my door looking like a wet dog” Sunwoo said, patting his bed. You chuckled and walked over hesitantly placing down your wet clothes on a nearby table. 

You sat down next to him leaving a small gap between you two and took a deep breath. “Well starting off with this morning, I woke up late and had to rush out making me forget my keys and phone. I didn’t bring an umbrella with me so I got soaked running home but I couldn’t even go inside cause my keys were locked inside. I couldn’t call my mom either, today’s just a mess”  you said letting out a sigh. 

You were still feeling quite cold from your wet hair and rain so you started to rub your hands together in an attempt to warm up. Sunwoo saw how cold you were and decided to take your hands into his. 

“You still cold?” he asked as you nodded feeling butterflies fly around in your stomach once again. “Come closer, you’ll warm up faster” Sunwoo suggested, opening his arms for you to snuggle closer.  

Usually, he wasn’t this bold but in the moment he just had a boost of confidence and went for it. You agreed and came closer to him as his arms wrapped around you causing your face to flush red. 

Sunwoo realized what he’d just done and started to get nervous again. As you rested your head onto his chest, you could hear his heart pounding like crazy. Your eyes widened and you looked back up at him. 

“Sun you okay? Why’s your heart beating so fast?” You asked feeling concerned even though yours was also beating as fast. 

“I- uhm.. I’m nervous?” He mumbled quietly. The little nickname you gave him always created a twisted feeling in his stomach. 

You looked at him and tilted your head in confusion. “See..uhm I don’t know if-...never mind”  he sighed trying to turn his gaze away from you because it only made him more nervous. 

“No, tell me” you exclaimed grabbing his cheeks and turning his face to look at you. Sunwoo’s eyes widened at the sudden action as you both realized how close you were. 

Now starring blankly into each other’s eyes, it was so silent and his stare just drove you crazy. You couldn’t even think straight in the moment. 

He was craving to just collapse his onto yours as the second passed by. 

“C-can I kiss you?” you quietly asked still not thinking properly. Without a second delay, Sunwoo crashed his lips into yours. You froze in shock but slowly melted into the kiss. His lips were soft as ever and adding to that, they’re plump so it only made it better. 

This was a new feeling you never thought you’d ever feel, it just was so fulfilling. You pulled away feeling breathless and looked into his round boba-like eyes. Your face turned a bright rosy colour causing him to let out an adorable giggle.

“I never knew you were such a good kisser y/n”, “beginners luck I guess” you replied smiling. He let out a small gasp before saying, “it’s your first time too?!” You nodded back smiling even bigger because he looked like an excited raccoon. 

Sunwoo then cupped your cheeks with his hands and squished them. “You’re so cute when your face is red like this” he teased so you slapped his hands away and got up. 

“Where do you think you’re going princess/prince? You can’t go home, remember?” He said pulling your wrist allowing you to fall straight onto him. 

“Princess/prince?!” you slightly yelled feeling your face burn up again for the thousandth time today as you slapped his chest. A smirk grew on his face knowing how shy that name made you feel. “Don’t act like you don’t like that name” he teased making you roll your eyes. 

“I’m just joking..the thing I wanted to tell you was that I like you” he admitted snaking his arms around your waist. “I figured, you dummy...I like you too” you replied giggling at how cute he sounded. “I always have”.

Sunwoo always knew how to comfort you the best, I guess you could call him your sun in the rain. 

[heartofsnark]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship (Misty/Fem!V/Jackie) Smut

Notes: Sooooo, this isn't really canon to my V's like story, as far as like her actual series goes (which you should look at if you want plot with your porn ayyy) but more of a fun what if, that I was possessed to write at 8am and am now publishing at 2:40 am cause I've lost control of my life and wanna see these three fuck. 

Warnings: Vaginal sex, cunnilingus, creampies, unprotected sex (fucking wrap it before you tap it, fucking hell Jackie) blowjobs, oral sex, licking cum out of a vagina, just porn, so much porn.

Summary: V has a problem, many problems, but we're focusing on the one for today. Her, Jackie, and Misty are friends; really good friends. Completely platonic and chill friends. They're her best friends in fact, the closest friends she's ever had. So, why does she want to fuck them so bad? 

*Also, the V in this is my own, she is a cis woman and also deaf. 

V has a problem, multiple problems if she’s being honest, but one in particular has been overwhelming her as of late. She doesn’t do romantic love, she’s told herself time and time again. A misguided crush as a child and a ‘what could have been’ when she was a slightly older child. Times when she thought she was in love or could have ended up there, but her hopes were dashed with cruel words or chance. And every other encounter since has been either platonic or just sex. You can be V’s friend or you can fuck her; no room for romance or muddy waters in the merc’s heart. 

At least that’s what she says. 

At least that’s what she thought. 

Then she met Jackie and Misty. The Heywood boy who took her in. His sweetheart of a girlfriend. Her feelings are platonic, she tells herself. Friends, practically family, a platonic sort of love she’s so rarely found. And that’s more than enough, her feelings and desires don’t go  beyond that, she tells herself. 

She watches Jackie workout at times, meant to spot him.  His muscle corded arms strained as he lifts weights, veins prominent and sweat tracing patterns down his skin. Freckled face flushed with exertion and V’s mouth dry at the thought of tasting the salt of his skin. 

But, they’re friends. 

V will catch herself staring at Misty from time to time when she visits the older woman’s Esoterica shop, getting tarot card readings and helping sort any new inventory that’s come in. Never missing the way Misty’s skirt rides up her thighs, showing a peek of soft thighs wrapped in fishnet stockings. 

But they’re friends. 

It's purely platonic when Jackie ruffles her hair, a big warm hand the size of her head, a grin wider than a canyon and sun glinting off his gold cyberware. The butterflies in her stomach and the flush on her face mean nothing more, they’re friends. 

And it's strictly platonic when she and Misty bleach their hair together, legs practically entangled when they wait on the couch together. The way V’s breath catches at the press of skin and the sound of Misty laughing is just…  They’re friends, really, just friends. 

They’re just friends, her mind screams when she’s sharing a bed with Jackie, pressed close to his warm body and inhaling the smell of his cologne. His large arms wrapped around her and thoughts flickering to if he’d let his hands move lover. 

Just friends, she tries to beat into her own head, when she’s reminded of Misty’s hands gently holding her bruised chin after a bad gig. Close enough V could nearly kiss her black painted lips, what would it feel like having dark lipstick smeared across her neck? 

They’re just friends, but sometimes she wishes they weren’t; she tells herself in shame after a night spent thinking of them in Jackie’s bed, him out on a date with Misty. V’s hand wet with her own slick after hours imagining she was pressed between them, the smell of her sweat sticking to his sheets. 

Moving out will help, she decides. A little more space, a few more boundaries will keep those lines from blurring so easily. Her friends, just friends, are there to help her move in and set up her new megabuilding apartment. 

Once everything is settled in, V orders them all takeout for dinner, the least she can do. The trio sits on the floor around her table, the holoprojector showing advertisements above their head. The curved built-in sofa is behind them, but its too far from the table to comfortably eat, plus it doesn’t afford the comfort of being closer to each other. Misty and Jackie sitting, nearly on top of each other across the table from V.  Trying not to stare at the way his fingers toy with Misty’s sweater. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually moving out, chica,” Jackie comments after swallowing down a mouthful of dumplings. She swears she hears a hint of melancholy in his voice, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. 

“Can’t mooch off of you and Mama Welles forever,” she signs and talks, comfortable talking when it's just them. The words flow easier, her throat less raw and blocked off. 

“For the billionth time, you ain’t no fuckin’ mooch, V.” 

“So you say.” V rolls her eyes and takes a drink of Nicola. 

“Personally, I’m happy about it,” Misty states and that soda suddenly feels like cement in V’s throat. One of her worst fears potentially realized, that Misty or Jackie see her as an interloper, an intrusion on their relationship. That Misty is sick of some random woman sleeping in her boyfriend’s bed.

“Why’s that?” Jackie asks, half of an eggroll in his mouth.

“‘Cause now I don’t have to sneak around Mama Welles to see V, too.” 

“Oh,” V swallows hard, feeling the air return to her lungs, “that’s right, I’ll never understand that whole thing. ”  

Misty is one of the sweetest people in the world and V’s always considered Jackie’s mom just as nice, but for some reason the two can’t seem to see eye to eye. Mama Welles hung up on Jackie getting back with one of his ex’s. 

“She’ll come around eventually, Ma just takes a while to warm up to people.” 

“Me, not people, just me. Pretty sure, she’d jump for joy if you and V were dating,” 

V chokes on her noodles, heat flushing up to her hairline at the thought. Not helping, Misty, not helping. Misty laughs at her, V trying to recompose herself. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“Uh, ‘cause it’s true!~ She adores you, V. Not that I can blame her.” 

“Pfft,” V rolls her eyes, scoffing, “trust me, she’d turn on me in a heartbeat if I tried to steal away her precious baby boy.”  

V teases Jackie, reaching across the table to squeeze at his cheek, he smacks away her hand, grinning and a flush of red across his cheeks. 

“Fuck off!” 

“True, she is so protective of her precious, Jaquito~” Misty joins in, giggling and scratching her nails along his chin. 

“I didn’t sign up to be harassed today,” he pretends to complain. 

“No sign up necessary, my harassment comes free and unsolicited~,” V reaches for an eggroll and accidentally knocks an open can of cola into Jackie’s lap, “shit!” 

“Ah, fuck,” Jackie flinches a bit as cold soda hits his crotch. 

“Sorry, sorry,” V blurts out, grabbing up napkins and starting to reach over the table to dry him. 

“I, uh, got it! It’s fine!” Jackie quickly stops her and she realizes she was a fraction of an inch away from trying to rub his dick dry. 

“Uh, right, sorry, I, sorry.” V falls back on her but, trying to pretend she isn’t embarrassed by the instinct. 

“Its okay, V,” Jackie insists, trying to dry his pants, “what’s a wet sticky dick between friends?”

“Jackie!” V yells at his innuendo, the audacity of this man, meanwhile Misty is giggling behind her hand.

“It shouldn’t stain,” Misty says when she stops giggling, rubbing Jackie’s shoulder, “I think you left some clothes at my place, you can change there, so you don’t have to wear wet pants all the way back to Heywood.”

And that’s right, they’ll be leaving at some point. She’ll be having her first night alone in her apartment, just her…  She taps her fingers against the floor, staring at a seam on her couch. She’s an adult, she reminds herself, she can handle being alone. 

“Yeah, we’ll go ahead and get out of your hair, V.” 

“Yeah, yeah, appreciate the help,” she hopes her signing and voice don’t give away her discomfort. Then there’s a gentle hand over her own, neatly painted black fingernails on her skin, warm and smooth skin compared to V’s more calloused flesh. Misty having shifted closer to the side of the table, so she could reach V. 

“Unless, you don’t want us to go?” 

“Uhh,” what kind of adult can’t be alone in her own apartment, V admonishes herself, “I-” 

“You still have trouble sleeping alone, right?” Jackie asks, raising an eyebrow, eyes concerned. 

“I mean… I don’t expect anyone to coddle me, I-” 

“It's not coddling, V, we care about you. Adjusting is hard and if us sleeping here tonight helps, we’re happy to do it.” 

“You know we’d do anything for you, chica.” 

“Uh, okay then, I can sleep on the couch and you two can have the bed-” 

“Pffft,” Jackie scoffs, “don’t be stupid,  we’ve been sharing a bed half that size for the past three months, V. The last thing I expect is for you to sleep on the couch.” 

“Okay, if you’re both cool with it.” 

And that’s how she ends up in her new bed with her two friends. Misty wearing a set of V’s sleep clothes, the shorts and shirt riding up slightly on the older woman just a few inches taller than the merc. Jackie stripped down to just his boxer briefs and V is accustomed to that she reminds herself, her partner in crime, sleeping in his underwear next to her more times than she can count. But, lately everything feels...muddier. 

V faces the wall, on her side, Misty and Jackie cuddling behind her. They nearly pulled her between them, but she stopped them, insisting she sleep fine so long as there’s just someone near her. And that’s true, the warmth and knowledge that she’s not alone helps plenty, but more so she’s just not sure she would have survived the night pressed between them. Even like this… she struggles to sleep, feeling their bodies radiating warmth behind her.  She stares at the wall and tries to name stars, her go to trick for sleeping. 

Then there’s shifting movement behind her, the feeling of the bed shifting a bit, and Misty’s foot slightly nudging V’s ankle. The little merc twists around onto her other side to see what’s going on, if Misty or Jackie need something and her breath catches in her throat. 

Misty is pressed tight to Jackie’s chest, the couple spooning with her back to his front. His face is pressed into her neck, V can’t hear his face nor read his lip, but she can see them moving against Misty’s skin. Jackie’s large hands are toying with Misty’s body,  one hand down between her thighs and the other pushing her shirt up to grope her breast. Misty’s eyes are shut, head arched back just slightly, mouth slightly open as her boyfriend teases her. 

V can’t help but stare, face a sharp shade of crimson, at the sight of the shirt being pushed up to reveal the underside of Misty’s breast, the muscles in Jackie’s forearm tightening as he fingers her.  Its a lot to take in, the sight, the feelings; the knowledge that they’d do this just inches from V. Desire and heat build in her center, her cunt getting wet at watching her friends fool around, finding herself imagining what it’d be like to have Jackie’s thick calloused fingers pushing inside of her or how soft Misty’s breast would feel in her hand. Then Jackie pushes the shirt all the way up above Misty’s chest, plump breasts and stiffening nipples on full display. 

V shouldn’t be seeing this; shame and humiliation mix with her arousal. 

Friends. They’re friends, damn it!

The speed at which V turns away from the sight, sends her half into the wall; knee and hands hitting it. She can feel Misty and Jackie shooting up behind her, mattress shifting, V tries to burrow down into her pillow hoping the two will somehow be convinced she just moved in her sleep. But the hand rubbing over her shoulder tells her that’s not the case. She forces herself to sit up and face her friends, just friends… 

Misty and Jackie are sitting up more in the bed, Misty’s clothes back in place. Their faces are both flushed, Jackie isn’t making eye contact with V.  Misty hands V her hearing aid case, a gentle unspoken request for her to put them in so it’s easier to talk. And V doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to ruin this. But she can’t deny the soft look in Misty’s emerald green eyes, sliding her hearing aids in. 

“Sorry, chica…” Jackie awkwardly apologizes the second V can hear.

“Okay…night... ” Is all V can manage, hoping this will be the end of it, hoping she doesn’t have to confront everything swelling up inside of her. V reaches up to take out her hearing aids, intent on just quickly pulling them out and rolling back over, to pretend this never happened. 

Misty’s hand reaches her face first, cupping V’s chin and forcing the merc to make eye contact. Though her eyes do drift back and forth between Misty’s lips and eyes. The closeness makes it all the  more tempting to just kiss her… 

But Misty beats her to it, nothing but tender press of their lips together. And V never in a million years believed of the three that Misty would be the one to break first.  Yet here they are, a soft kiss that lasts all of a moment before Misty starts to pull away, a quick peck meant to test the waters, but V chases after it, capturing the older woman’s lips again.  Her kiss is a far cry from Misty’s, hungrier, deeper and anything but chaste as she pushes her tongue into the blonde’s mouth. 

“Shit,” Jackie curses, voice low and hungry as he watches his girlfriend and best friend makeout. V smiles into the kiss, finally breaking away. 

“We’re a pair of  Catholic school girl uniforms away from acting out Jackie’s favorite BD, aren’t we?” V can’t help but tease remembering a few… select pieces from her friends collection. 

“Hey!” 

V falls back against the bed laughing, that sort of tension and fear melting away. Misty and Jackie laugh too; the sound music to V’s ears, the merc suddenly thankful she kept the hearing aids in.  They kissed and the world didn’t end. There’s no irreparable damage and if they wanted maybe they could all leave it there, a weird exchange that ended in laughter. Nothing has to change. One kiss between friends, no big deal. 

Then Misty is climbing over her, moving to be on the other side of V, pressing against that side as Jackie moves in closer; placing her between them. 

“Hello, can I he-” she starts to tease, then Jackie’s lips are on hers. His large warm hand on her chin, keeping her in place as he pushes his tongue into her mouth. She works to meet his movement, to give as good as she gets, kissing him back with the same passing. A moan leaving the back of her throat and dying on Jackie’s tongue when he shifts the angle to kiss her deeper. She grabs his bicep, feeling his muscles to anchor herself. 

And, okay, it’s two kisses now. What’s two kisses between friends?

Jackie pulls away, pressing his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb over her chin. 

“Been wanting to do that for a while, mija,” he admits tenderly. 

And that’s it, it's all too far gone and she’s done caring. 

“Need you, both of you,” V finally says it, puts the words out into the world and prepares herself for what comes next. 

Then Jackie pulls her shirt off over her head, leaving V’s breasts exposed, her nipple piercings glinting in the lowlight of the room.  Delicate fingers push past the waistband of V’s shorts, Misty finding and stroking V’s clit as Jackie dips his head to suck at the merc’s breast. She whimpers at the treatment, overwhelmed and squirming as the couple plays with her body. Slick coats Misty’s fingers and V’s thighs, the merc’s cunt clenching with every rub of her clit. Jackie’s tongue teases and licks at her piercing, he sucks at her breast, feeling her nipple stiffen on his tongue. Misty’s fingers slip lower, pushing inside of V. Its all too much, V’s pleasure building higher and higher inside of her. Jackie gives a little nip, not a true bite just the slight pressure of his teeth on her breast just as Misty adds a third finger. And it snaps, V crying out as she cums on Misty’s hand, 

Jackie pulls off of V’s breast and Misty pulls slick coated fingers out of her cunt, the merc panting. 

“Didn’t realize you were that sensitive, V,” Jackie teases, breath hot on her ear. 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s cute,” Misty assures her, kissing softly across V’s cheek and neck. 

“So, cute,” Jackie says, but his voice with that edge of condescension before he bites her neck. She whines but responds by rubbing a hand over his cock, grinning when he jumps. 

“Yeah, let's see how well you handle it,” she taunts, pushing him back flat against the bed as she straddles him. 

His hard cock rubs against her, her shorts and his boxers the only thing between them. She kisses across his chest. Tracing her tongue along his tattoos and freckles, sliding her hand between them to palm his dick, feeling the warmth of it through the fabric. She trails her kisses down, watching his head dip back against the pillow, cursing under his breath as she makes her way lower and lower down his torso and stomach. She pulls her mouth away when it hits fabric, as much as she’d love to settle between his legs and tease him through his boxers, She’s not about to forget about Misty. 

V pulls away to press closer to Jackie’s side, looking up to see Misty, staring at them, enraptured. The merc stretches over Jackie’s lap to catch the back of Misty’s head, tangling her fingers in the short layers of hair, bringing the older woman in for another kiss. She uses this to gently pull and encourage Misty over closer, until they’re both pressed tight against one side of Jackie’s legs, making out just above his erection. They break apart, with V giving a soft bite to Misty’s lower lip before hooking her fingers into the bottom of Misty’s shirt pulling it off over her head. She can’t help but get another eyeful of Misty’s chest, before turning her attention back to Jackie, intent on showing why having two people play with you tends to make a person more sensitive. 

V slips her fingers into the top of Jackie’s boxer briefs, starting to pull them down, Misty helping her as Jackie raises his hips for them. The girls quickly getting the boxers off; V swallows hard at the sight of his dick. He’s big, something she always figured considering he’s nearly a giant towering over both Misty and V.  Its flushed red at the head, thick with prominent veins, and leaking precum on his lower stomach. Misty and V get their tongues on him, making Jackie curse aloud. V lapping the head of his cock to taste his precum, teasing her tongue piercing along the flushed sensitive skin. Misty, tracing the underside, licking along the veins and shaft of his cock. 

V pulls away for a moment as Misty licks up Jackie’s cock. The merc watches as Misty takes the length of Jackie’s dick into mouth, inch after inch pushing past her kiss-swollen lips. V takes to licking the places where Misty’s mouth can reach, the part of his cock she can’t force down her throat without risk of gagging, V’s tongue chases after Misty’s mouth as she pulls up, tasting Misty’s spit on his cock, until she’s pulling off his dick with a pop. Before V can follow suit, taking her turn to feel his dick in her throat, he stops them. Large thick fingers tangling in bleached hair. 

“Stop, fuck, fuck, gonna-fuck,” he groans out, nearly choking on his words. 

“Aww, feeling sensitive?” V teases, biting at his thigh. 

“Not helping, V.” 

“I don’t think she was trying to help, Jackie,” Misty jokes, sharing a sly smile with V as they watch Jackie try to keep from blowing his load right there. Jackie reaches down and squeezes Misty’s ass, making her yelp at the sudden attention. 

“Wanna feel you, carina,” he tells Misty, teasing her cunt through her shorts.  

V helps Misty pull off her shorts, leaving her completely naked. The young merc can see the slick sticking to the inside of Misty’s inner thighs and all she wants to do is lap it up. But Jackie is already manhandling Misty, helping her move to straddle his lap, with her back towards him and facing V; reverse cowgirl style.  Misty puts her hands back on Jackie’s chest, leaning her weight back on him as he holds her hips, his fingers squeezing the soft plush flesh. 

Slowly, Jackie pulls Misty down on his cock, making her moan out as he fills her. He bounces Misty on his cock, fucking up into her. V watches agape, not sure where she wants to focus, from where the two meet, his cock pumping into Misty’s tight cunt. Or to Misty as a whole, the woman put on full display for V to watch as her breasts bounce with every thrust and she cries out with every slap of flesh hitting flesh. 

She settles for doing much more than just watching, V dipping her head between their thighs and licking where Jackie and Misty connect. Its a sloppy mess, trying to keep up with Jackie’s pace as he pound into Misty. V laps and licks at his cock where she can, tasting Misty’s slick on him, kissing where Misty’s cunt takes in Jackie’s cock. She sucks and teases Misty’s clit, her own cunt clenching at the way the added pleasure makes Misty scream out. V’s mouth and tongue are everywhere they can be, desperate and sloppy in her rush to taste the couple, to add to their pleasure. 

Misty grabs the back of V’s hair when she cums, pinning the merc in one spot as she screams out her release. V’s left to drool and keep her tongue out as Misty’s cunt and Jackie’s cock rub against her. She tastes the rush of Misty’s slick first, gushing and twitching as her pussy is overwhelmed.  Then V tastes the bitter salt of Jackie’s cum, him cursing as he fills Misty and then keeps cumming, thick white spilling out and dripping back down his cock. The couple still, both panting heavily and Misty relaxing, letting V’s hair go as the young merc continues to lick up the mess. Misty collapses, practically boneless laying on Jackie’s chest. 

Jackie gets his hands under her thighs and starts to bring them back, Misty whimpering as he’s able to hold her legs up, nearly bringing her knees to her chest. The shift in position causes his cock to slip out of her, his cum now spilling freely from Misty’s cunt, a wet messy show for V. 

“Clean her up for me, V?” He asks it as casually as he’d ask V to lend her car. And V is just as happy to oblige. 

V buries her tongue inside of Misty, moaning softly when Misty squeals at the feeling. Its a mess of Jackie’s cum and Misty’s, mingling on V’s tongue as she licks it up like she’s starved for it. Misty is a sensitive mess, being eaten out so soon after being fucked to pieces, but V doesn’t hold back; rubbing a thumb over the woman’s swollen clit while she laps up every drop of Jackie’s cum. There’s a shake in Misty’s thighs, instinct telling her to clench them shut, to trap V between her legs, but Jackie keeps her spread wide; only able to whimper and whine as the mess is licked up as her twitching wet clit is teased alongside every stroke of V’s tongue. 

With each lick V tastes less and less of Jackie’s mess, cleaning up the creampie he’d left inside of Misty. And she doesn’t know what it is that sends Misty over the edge, one too many rubs of V’s thumb over her clit or particularly deep lick, V desperate to truly swallow down every drop of seed. But something does and Misty’s sent into a second orgasm, trembling and gushing against V’s tongue, screaming out as the pleasure consumes her.  The merc slows down gently,steadily  easing Misty through the aftershocks, until she’s done trembling.  

Jackie lets go of Misty’s legs, letting her body relax as she gently moves to lay against his side. His cock is still half hard and there’s an itch inside of V that hasn’t quite been scratched, still wet and twitching between her thighs, the crotch of her thin shorts sticky with slick. But she doesn’t want to push it, she thinks as she goes to lay down on his other side. But, he has different ideas it seems, an idea catching in his mind as V’s in the midst of moving, on her hands and knees about to drop down onto the mattress. Despite his size he moves fast, grabbing at V’s hips and making her freeze, on his knees behind her as he pulls her ass back against his cock. She whines at the friction, as he grinds against her, quickly getting his cock fully hard again. Misty laying against the pillows next to them, satiated and content to watch the V and Jackie chase another orgasm. 

And he yanks her shorts down as far as he can without changing the position, exposing her slick needy cunt. 

“Fuck,” the low hungry curse sends a chill along V’s spine, the head of his cock leaving wet across her ass, before he rubs it over her sex. 

There's a part of her that thinks they shouldn’t, that this is the step too far, a line that can’t be uncrossed; as if she hadn’t just had her face buried in Misty’s pussy. But, she needs this and by the tight hold Jackie has on her hips, he does too. A line that needs to be crossed even if it can’t be undone. An experience that has to be had, just to know what it’s like. 

Then he’s sinking into her, pulling her back onto his cock, filling her. V’s eyes roll back, a silent cry on her tongue as she’s stretched and stuffed. Too much, too much; but exactly what she needs. Despite his size, he fills her easily, her body too needy to resist the push of him into her. He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not that she needs or truly wants it. They’re both at their limit, just needing this, to know what it’s like to be connected this way; to feel his cock pounding into her, to feel her cunt clenching around him. 

She lets him set the pace, too overwhelmed to do anything, whimpering as he brutally fucks her; pulling her back against him as he thrusts forward. Both too far gone and desperate for this to be softer. The skin slapping together, sound ringing out through the apartment, a wet squelch everytime he sinks inside of her. Jackie uses her like a toy, like a human sized fleshlight to chase his own end with. And she knows she means more than that, in the moment it feels good to just be used, to be manhandled and fucked apart, to be a pillow princess taking his dick however he sees fit to give it. Each thrust sending her spiraling deeper and deeper into her pleasure, fucked stupid and mindless, unable to think of anything but how it feels to be fucked by him. 

And that pleasure overwhelms quicker than she expects, bubbling over and orgasm hitting her before she even truly realized she was close. Mind going completely blank and throat raw as she screams out, cumming on his cock, toes clenching. And he fucks her through it, draws it out until he’s cursing under his breath and spilling inside of her. His second load, a little lighter than the creampie he left Misty with, but still thick and too much for V’s cunt to hold; the mess leaking down her thighs as she comes down from her high. 

She whimpers when he pulls out, suddenly empty and more of his cum spilling from inside of her. Jackie collapses, in the middle of the bed, between Misty and V, sweaty and panting. V can’t help but laugh, throwing her shorts completely off, as Misty curls up close to his side. Jackie wraps an arm around Misty’s  hip. His other hand skims V’s back as she leans over them to take her hearing aids out, putting them on the side table, then she’s pulled down to lay against his chest. V nuzzles in, looking at Misty’s face across the expanse of Jackie’s chest, V being held just as tightly to his side. Misty’s hand is on his chest and V reaches up, intertwining their fingers, earning her a soft serene smile from the older woman. 

And there’s a lot that’ll need to be talked about. So many questions as to what this all means; what does V even want this to mean? A one time thing they don’t talk about, don’t deal with. A friendship ruiner, the start of something… new.  So many possibilities and each one brings with it a different sort of anxiety. But for now, she’s content to sleep curled up under the sheets with her friends. 

[ddullahan]

hadestown au 2

I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THEM  it’s a constant brainrot tbh and i’m gonna throw the next chapter out because i’m experimenting with things so if you’re new here, welcome, and here’s the first chapter if you haven’t read it:  hadestown au 1 ------------ it’s a love song Music is everywhere in this world. From the hot, mosquito infested plantations to the coldest points of the north, it hums in the earth above and for what? It's off-key and discordant, but it follows the wind off the train tracks as if it has nowhere else to go. Yang remembers growing up on the tracks. She remembers singing with the winds, and hearing laughter in her ears. The Fates were always at the back of your mind, pulling you from choice to choice like there's fishing wire wrapped around your soul. Invisible, they beckon you away from home. They beckon you to the fires down below. She remembers thinking their voices sound unkind. It still sends shivers through her body. The idea that her destiny might not be good, or bright. But it’s not anything she’s dwelling on. She remembers her first melody. How it came from her tiny house hidden in the willows. Willows, with their long branches that wave in the breeze like the sleeves of a robe. Waving at the train, waving at her as she draws chalk flowers on her front porch. They're friendlier than the blues give them credit for, and when she was younger, she wanted the world to know. So she opened her mouth to sing, and the willows suddenly weren't weeping anymore. She loves those willows as much as she loves her guardian, and the little train station she finds herself crying in - but that's something for later. Yang's not crying as her hands dunk beneath soapy waves. She's humming, as she always is. Slow and soft, sponge scraping in time with the swinging door. Voices trip over themselves in the amphitheatre beyond. Everyone's excited for spring to come. The train is on its way. They just need to wait for the Queen to start their summer fun. Yang loves this time of year. There's dancing, and singing. Joy wraps around the rafters and the walls get painted in hope. It’s a rolling tide of an echoing chorus, too happy to be contained. She stacks the last clean plate into a bucket and dries her hands. She knows the festivities can't go on until the Queen’s grace touches the land - but there's something she has to do first, with these plates they've never used. She has to break them all. She has to meet her muse. It's a story that's already been written into the floors, Yang just needs to follow Fate’s wires threaded in her hole-y shoes. So without thinking too much, she swings around; picks up her bucket of dishes. She makes her way out from the kitchen. Except nothing can prepare her for the moment everything begins. Her feet slip into grooves she’s never noticed before. She’s thrown by the recognition worn into her soul - like this stranger across from her has touched it before. Like she’s already gone and marked Yang’s soul like a worry stone. Like she’s already pressed a divot in the shape of her thumb. Ink black hair set in short, fluffy waves. A sharp jaw and rich brown skin. There’s buttery yellow light in the walls that spill onto her face. It turns her lips into a plush, dark valley that Yang needs to sink her teeth in. She’s pulled away by the eyes, though. They're precious gold glinting with hints of amber. They're set under nightdark banners, black eyelashes that flutter like raven wings. They almost seem to glow with hunger. The sight is enough to knock the wind out of Yang's sails. To empty her lungs. There's something familiar in this awe. Aching and ancient, it moves her like there's fire at her feet. Suddenly there's a song building palaces in her chest, and she knows that melody like she knows her willows. She hears in the rafters. She knows its very nature. Yang's entire body yearns with the desire to sing. The world stops. And then resumes. As Yang's pale lilacs start to search gold eyes for that same, ancient ache - she has only seconds to understand something fundamental, and profound. That this is meant to be. That she’s known this woman's soul as long as she’s been alive to breathe. Longer, even. There’s something familiar in the mahogany of her cheeks. Something echoed by the trees. Maybe it’s because the song they sing is the same. Because willows are friendlier than the blues make them out to be, and Yang gets the feeling that this woman is not all she appears to be. Oh, Yang needs to know her again. The woman has a mouth that begs to be fed. She has a body that drowns in that tattered old coat. But it still makes Yang remember that she has an empty bed, in her house under the willows. She wants to offer shelter to those hollow cheeks. Though she swallows the urge like it's a handful of nails in her throat. There's enough pain in it to make her drop the forgotten bucket in her hands. The dishes shatter through the fuzziness in her ears. And it's only by a miracle that she gathers her wits. The miracle being Summer Rose in the form of guidance. She touches Yang's arm, asks her to get a broom. She has a knowing glint in her eye, but it's a little sad, too. Like she knows the world shifted two inches to the left. Like she’s known the story before it ever began. Yang snaps free of the binds in her feet. She jumps to attention, and makes a hasty retreat. Her hands are in her bangs within seconds of the door swinging shut. She stammers gibberish to Summer, who only smiles with love. "You want to talk to her?" She asks in a coo. "More than anything," Yang breathes. She's sure there's stars being born in her eyes. "Well, go on." Summer says. "But don't come on too strong, dear. She's still very new around here." "I won't!" Yang replies, already planning her wedding. "I'll - I'll take her to see the night sky, and I'll give her a melody! I'll sing songs about her eyes and show her the willows when they don't weep. I'll write her poems and maybe she'll agree to marry me-" "That's all well and good, dear," Summer laughs. She reaches up to pat Yang's cheek fondly. "But maybe you should start with your name. There's no rush." "No, but I feel like I've done this before." Yang presses an anxious fist to her chest. "I feel like she'll say yes." "Baby girl, you have such starlight in your eyes," Summer says softly, "And I support you regardless. But maybe, just for once... You should take your time with this." Yang frowns. Her heart doesn't want to wait. But Summer's face holds a deep, deep pain. Her silver eyes are gunmetal gray. She smiles, but still gives off an aura of resignation. It's the same look she wears when something is wrong, or will be soon. It has something to do with Yang, and the girl in the other room. Yang knows that age doesn't dare show it's face on Summer Rose. She looks young, for a goddess of course, but Yang doesn't know what she's seen. She doesn't know what it's like to live for eternity, though she tastes it a little when she sings. She doesn't know what it's like to be Hermes, but from the expression Missus Rose gives… it must be bad. All Yang really knows is that she took her in, when her muse of a mother abandoned her on the road. She knows that, and she knows how much she loves Summer Rose. So it's with her guardian on her mind, instead of the song bursting in her chest, that she says softly, "Okay, Missus Rose. I'll try my best." Summer double-takes. Her face is filled with surprise. The silver seems to slip back into her eyes with hope and wonder. "...Thank you, sweetheart." She says, stilted and unsure. "I'm just looking out for you." "I know." Yang smiles, blinding and bright. "You always are." Yang doesn't remember when she grew taller. She just knows that Summer, in her fast steps and suited splendor, has never really admitted that she was Yang's mother. Though that never stopped her from loving Yang just as hard. So Yang bends down, and gives the goddess' forehead a kiss. She admits to her shyly, "You're a good mom. One of the best, I think." Summer's eyes fill with tears, but none of them fall. She murmurs thickly, "When did you get so tall?" "Don’t know," Yang laughs, "Time really flies when you blink." "Mm." Summer gives a sweet grin. "Don't you have a girl you need to meet?" Yang's face flushes in red. Summer hums thoughtfully; skips away too fast to see. She's back with a soda, and hands it to Yang with a wink. "Try this for an icebreaker," She says, "You'd do well to take off the cap for her." "Th-thank you!" Yang squawks in surprise. Her usual honeyed voice cracks way too high. She blushes harder, but Summer is already ushering her out the door. It swings shut, and she is alone on the floor. The girl - woman, rather - is huddled at a table with her head bowed down. She's hovering over a ratty backpack that's probably seen a thousand towns, a thousand homes, and a thousand trains. She looks weathered, and cold. Yang desperately wants to wrap her up and make her warm. She needs to know her name. So she takes her first step, and then the next. Crawling over to her awkwardly, the bottle held to her chest. It's mechanical, the way she pops off the bottle cap. The way she watches it slip from her shaking fingers. Lets it clatter over to fingerless gloves. She sees a flash of gold hidden beneath those black lashes. She's struck stupid by the way they almost glow in their sockets. And they meet, lilacs to amber. And her heart screams, marry her, marry her. She feels a hole rip open in her chest. It gapes with awe and wonder. It consigns her to no other lover except the woman she swears she's already met.   The song in the rafters starts over, and Yang just stands. There's so much hunger set in the woman's face. It's a landscape of starvation, with valleys built from sharp cheekbones and soft black waves. Despite the insistence of the muscle in her chest, Yang takes a breath, and her wedding plans go out the window. Her every ounce of confidence seems to dwindle until the last of it drips from her fingers. Those gold eyes are suddenly too much. There's a strange, visceral fear in Yang's bones. It pulses in veins of gold. It's foreign, and old. It bleeds with desperation. She knows for a fact she's been down this road. That this lovely creature has held her hand before, and turned away. Promises stick to her throat and rot. Fruit of the vine filled with blight, and not a cure to be seen. A cycle that repeats. A tragedy that has always been. Visions of a future long past. A die that’s already been cast. It's all too much. Her heart seizes, and Yang - for once in her life - runs. She turns and wobbles her way back to the kitchen. She feels those haunting eyes burning into her shoulders. Palatial notes and flowering verses twist in her chest longingly. The song she feels inside her like a heartbeat starts to wail at the absence of her muse's name. The emptiness sits black in the cavern of her ribs, silent as a grave. She wants to turn back... but her feet won't obey.

[henryobsessed]

The Borrower and Her Bean

Summery: Melina lives in the wall between two houses with her family. What happens when lockdown is put in place and her Bean (Henry Cavill) is home.

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Nothing Yet :) 

A/N @witcherfan​ thank you for the request for a Borrower Henry Fic lets see where my brain will take this lol - I just watched the borrowers for the first time yesterday 😜 

Picture from  Ratgirlstudios's DeviantArt Gallery on pintrest

Part 2

Part 1 –

Melina enjoyed listening to the sounds of the morning, it was her normal waking practice to listen first before she opened her eyes. She could hear sounds of the wind rustling through the blades of grass outside her bedroom. The sounds of the crickets chirping a good morning to each other and the frogs singing their morning tunes. Everything sounded as it should except today there was a new sound, a sound that signalled a change.

She opened her eyes her heart beating faster now that she had heard him, the heavy footfall of the bean that lived in their house. Melina loved their house, in fact, they lived between two wonderful muse houses. There was another family that lived all the way down at the other end of this set of muses but these two were all theirs.

The house to their right was great fun, the beans that lived there had parties all the time. With lots of dancing and loud music that mum and dad were always complaining about. Melina and her brothers loved it. The one thing her mum and dad did not complain about was the food. Because they had so many parties the beans never noticed the missing food. Lots of fruit, cheese, meat pies and salami’s perfect sizes for her father and brothers to bring home. It was a good thing too because the bean who lived on their left was often gone for months at a time. If they had to borrow food from him, they would have starved or would have had to resort to getting food from the other borrowers.

Apart from the lack of food though Melina loved his house. Because it was empty most of the time, they had free reign. Her twin brothers Greg and Carson had worked out how to turn on the bean’s computer and between the two of them had even managed to play one of the beans games. Laughing she thought about the last time the bean had come home. Watching from a hole in the wall she had seen him turn on the computer and go bright red as his game had come on the screen. The boys must have done terribly because he had jumped up and stalked about the room swearing “Bloody hackers, destroying my hours of work. *&^%$ how did they even get past my firewalls” He had spent at least 3 days glued to the machine trying to undo what they had done.

Melina had two favourite things to do when he was not home. He had these statues that he liked to paint, of warriors and monsters. This time while he was away, she had gotten up the courage to paint her own statue, the paintbrushes were small so easy for her to use and sometimes she would paint for hours. There was a little part of herself that hoped that he would like the work she had done even if he never told her directly. Her absolute favourite thing to do was to sit on the windowsill in his bedroom. She could see the whole world from the window and at night if she was feeling really brave, she would sneak up there with a pillow and blanket and fall asleep watching the moon and the twinkling stars in the deep indigo sky.

He was home now so life would change, they would go back to living in the shadows. Only coming out at night and living in fear of being seen. Melina hated this, sometimes she would look up at those stars and wish with all her might that she would change from a borrower to a bean. Then maybe, maybe her heart's desire would come true. You see Melina was 25yrs old, there were no borrowers her age to go courting with. If she was really honest with herself, she would admit that she wanted to be with her bean, but that was the ultimate betrayal of her emotions to want something that could never happen.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she put her feet into the cotton balls that she used for slippers. Stretching her toes, she stood her full 4inch of height. Her room was along the wall that had ventilation to the outside facing the garden. She had chosen this spot because she loved watching the animals play in the grass and often, she would watch her bean playing with his big shaggy friend. She smelled the fresh air and turned looking casually in the pocket mirror her daddy had borrowed for her. She fixed her dark brown hair up into a braid that curled around her head. Smiling as it made her 4 inches just that little bit taller.

She changed into her day dress and walked down the hall to the room they used for a kitchen. She had dawdled this morning and the image that greeted her told her she was late. Everyone was sitting around the dining table, which was a small Jar that Daddy and the boys had scavenged from my bean’s pantry. Mum had made a tablecloth out of a piece of cloth the boys had found by the computer; it was a perfect size and she always laughed at the image of a doggie on it and the words glasses cleaner underneath. She sat on her die seat and grabbed a grape.

A loud pitter-patter could be heard running alongside the wall and sniffing, everyone froze. Daddy put his finger to his mouth admonishing us to be silent. My stomach fluttered as I heard the deep rumbling of my bean “Kal what have you found?” the puppy yipped and continued to sniff at the wall. Fear and hope mingled as Melina heard footsteps come to a halt by our room, as we all stayed silent. My bean’s deep rumble was so close as he praised “Silly puppy, I can’t hear anything, but I might put out some mouse traps ok buddy? Good Job” as both sets of pitter patters and footfalls retreated, we collectively let out our breaths. “That was close” mummy breathed as she mopped her brow with her apron.

Daddy eyed the boys and me, a frown on his face “Looks like he bought his puppy with him so you will all have to be incredibly careful if you venture into the house. I would prefer that you did not go into the house while he’s here, he is never here long, but your adults……. Or at least close to it” he said looking at the twins who had just turned 18. I hated when daddy got strict, I’m an adult granted unmated but still, I should be able to make my own decisions. I glance at my brothers who seem to be also grumbling under their breath. Don’t get me wrong I love my mum and dad, but they are old fashioned, they have lived with the motto that Borrowers should never be seen. That we should be quiet, cautious, brave and inconspicuous. Greg spoke up for all of us, looking for agreement from Carson and myself before saying “ok dad”

I was frustrated, I had been so close to finishing my statue. Instead, I spent the day sitting by my vent writing. I liked writing I could escape into a fantasy world where my dreams could become realty rather than just a thought in my head. As the day sky became dark and the stars came out I itched to sit on my sill. My bean and his puppy should be asleep. After saying goodnight to my family I crept up the brickwork steps to the small hole I had made in the wall under his bedside table. It sat up against his window to provide a perfect way to get to the sill. As I peeked out into the room, I saw his puppy sleeping at the end of my beans bed. I watched for a good 15mins to make sure he was asleep.

The beautiful puppy was a huge black and white animal. Once she heard the tell-tale snore from the bear's mouth she breathed a sigh. She was surprised her bean had not seen her rope hanging from his bedside table it had been there now for the last few years and it never seemed to be found. Gaining her footing she made the steep climb up the side of the table. Reaching the top she paused, listening, watching, her adrenaline pumping so hard she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She slowed her breathing and made the final climb to the sill.

Now she was this high she could see not only the world outside but she could see her bean. He was tucked up under the covers, only his face and his curly hair tussled into a mop on top of is head could be seen.

A gentle snore could be heard from his parted lip letting Melina know that he was in a deep sleep. She watched him for a while, she knew it was wrong but there was something comforting watching this gentle giant. Turning around she settled herself into the crook of the window from here she could see the stars and the moon as well as her bean. Again, she made her wish to the stars, her desire to be loved and to love, her desire for the one she could never have.

As she relaxed, she heard a small whimper coming from the bed. Her bean’s face scrunched up creasing his forehead as more whimpers made their way out of his mouth. Hoping to soothe rather than awaken she moved to the bedside table and hid behind the books he had stacked up ready to read. Softly at first, she began to sing a lilting lullaby. As she sang his whimpers settled down, she continued to sing until she could hear the gentle snore again. Moving back to the window she looked out to the night sky and whispered, “Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Stars watch over us tonight.” Then before she could fall asleep she made the long journey back to the safety of her bed.

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[ladecena]

I Love You ❤️

           Strong wind makes her long wavy black hair go in different direction, the blazing sun that shines through her beautiful face making her eyes brighter than anything you will ever see, and when the rain showers her at times where she wants to be alone actually made her happy and alive again it’s like washing all her worries, pain and miseries and making them a lesson that thought her to be strong and beautiful on her own.

           Walking a long road on a sunny day is refreshing wearing a comfy shirt, jeans and some nice comfortable shoes unlike others who prefer dresses and high heels, having my hair braided left and right. The pathway I’m walking right now is the same pathway me and my friends always walk to, nothing changes there are still benches to sit to when you are tired the street food corner that is still within sight if you sit in one of the benches. laughing with them is one of the memories I have the most.

           “where already on our second year and we are also together in the same class right?” her friend asked her, they were around 14 years old and on their second year of high school around this time they are still careless, innocent and pure to know the difficulties the world have.

           Walking again on the never-ending corridor of her alma mater, the table they always passed by after greeting the kind guard who where always sitting there, the small basketball court that serves as a temporary court for every student, the canteen monitored by hot-tempered but still always smiling lady’s behind the counter and also the giant tree on the middle where you can eat and also a hangout place together with her friends because of the concrete table and benches.

           “Kim?” a manly voice calls out that momentarily cut-off her being nostalgic and reminiscence all the emotions that she let out in this place

           “Hi, Pastor? I’m glad to see you again” she said smiling at the now grey haired but still strong and resilient looking man who show and guide them all through their walk on the path that they choose.

           “Hello Kim, I see you haven’t really change, lets meet the principal?” she nods and let him walk ahead of her. Nothing really changes in this campus, Kim taught to herself all the stairs, railings, door rooms, and the paints also remains.

           Kim graduated on a nice and outstanding university she even reached her dreams. Having work to support her parents and that work is a part of what she dreamed to be that’s why she was being encouraged to give inspiration to the students who are currently attending her alma mater.

           “Ma’am Carina said there is someone who would accompany me on the day” she’s thinking about who it would be the principal is talking about. Kim was just wearing simple clothes she was comfortable with because it’s just a meeting. Going down to the same staircase she walked by earlier and onto the last step she bumps into someone.

           “Kim?” a voice she hardly hears after graduating on her high school days makes her eyes wider and urge her to look at the male who owns the usual comforting voice it’s warm and inviting, and she loves it the most. Looking up at him he doesn’t seems to change at all he is much taller just right for her to hear his heartbeat every time she would have the chance to lean on his wide shoulder, to hug her and can comfort her anytime. His Brown eyes are firm, steady and prepared to embrace Kim when she falls to take care of her and warm her with love. Smiling at her he really doesn’t change.

           “Paul!” Kim exclaimed her excitement is noticeable “how are you?” she added

           “I’m great, I’ve become who I want to be” he says still smiling at her “how about you?”

           “Still the same, but I also reach the one who I want to be am” Kim says smiling and looking up on him. “So, you are the one ma’am Carina was talking about I guess?”

           “Oh! So, you’re going to be a speaker also? That’s great!”

           Paul ask Kim if she have time and invited her to eat out also for them to have a little chat about what happened in their separate lives after graduating. So, Kim decided to sit on one of the benches in the new canteen that was made before they graduated because Paul is having a meeting with ma’am Carina like she did earlier.

           Blushing and talking to herself.

           “What did you just do!” she scream silently to herself. Ah! It is still refreshing to sit here, it’s a shame we didn’t get to eat and sit here for a long time.

           “Kim!? You’re also late? That’s new” Pamela one of her friend who has a perfect attendance on being late  

             “Yeah! I think my alarm broke” Kim sadly said

             Laughing silently “That’s alright, at least you get to see your crush first thing in the morning. Look!” Pamela teases her while patting her back

              Putting her chin on her hand she whispers “In front of him and even I just see a glimpse of him I’m always blushing, I’m such a Wimp”

 Taking a glance of the guy sitting two table from us but still I know who, I blush again. He looks like he wakes up late and because he lives far away, I think the traffic got him.

             “Kim! Come on I’m finished talking with ma’am” slowly walking to me his smile made me broke from remembering from past. “we should go now?” he asks sitting beside me.

           “Yes! Sure, Let’s go?” walking out and passing the things where I remember most of my happy, sad, exciting, and scarry moments of my life, I’m sure I’ll come back again.

           “You’re driving a car? That’s cool” I say while blushing Paul replied a “Yup” and open the passengers sit for me. I do also have a car but I’m glad I didn’t bring it here and just walk if ever I wouldn’t have a chance to see him this handsome.

           A beautiful place where we sit under a large and fertile tree grasses that you’ll feel on your heel there is also a stone passage you can walk, and yellow lights are spread around the place so when it’s already dark you can still be able to see the one you were with. Sitting across each other is a better way for the two of us to have a clear talk, and its way better for me if we are across each other, I can stealth a look and focus on him.

           “The place is really beautiful, where’d you know this place?” I ask smiling mischievously at him

           “Yeah? Thanks too google” Paul says making the two of us laugh, internet and social media really makes living easier and more convenient for everyone.

           “So, you’re already a Pilot?” I ask him after we calmed down and for us to have a conversation while waiting for the food

           “Unfortunately, but still I’m late at finishing my course” he said staring at me after he look at the stars who are present tonight

           “For 2 years, right? I admire you for continuing your studies. Well, you’re one of the brightest students in our batch” I said to him while also admiring him, he doesn’t really change at all

           “Your still the same, always giving me compliments.” He smiles at me that made me also smile at him.

           As our dinner arrives which is a creamy flavor white sauce pasta that tingle my taste buds and just perfectly creamy that I like, stake that is juicy, tender, and loaded with flavor and lastly a wine that is bright and has a youthful color that perfectly match for Paul while I choose to drink cucumber juice with lemon that I love the most.

           Looks like we made it

           Look how far we’ve come, my baby

             This place we are eating have a live Band not the rock one but the calming one that made this place even more perfect. Most of the guest who where also eating are slowly standing walking on the middle stage part to dance, there are married, teens which are only friends but also couples.

           We might a took the long way

           We knew we’d get there someday

           “Can I have this dance?” walking over me and offering his hands to me looking up at him and placing my hand on his hand and walking through to get on to the center his big, warm and comforting hand guide me all trough our walk

           They said, “I bet they’ll never make it”

But just look at us holding on

We’re still together, still going strong

 “I’m thinking are you always going to be my first dance?” I ask teasing him

He nods his head smile at me and says, “can’t I?” squinting my eyes I placed my hands on his neck and he pulls me close enough for the both of us and for the sake of my heart, I guess?

           You’re still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You’re still the one I want for life

             He places both his hands on my waist “The last time I held you like this you’re waist still have some fats, but now look at you, you really did change” he says to me I don’t know if his mocking me or complimenting me

You’re still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You’re still the one I kiss goodnight

           “I’ll take that as a compliment” and we laugh. Like we are young again still in our teenage year full of life, carelessness, innocence and being pure to have any Idea that we would become like this one day.

           I’m so glad we made it

Look how far we’ve come, my baby

 Our day ended with him bringing me home wishing for us to meet again, and for us to convey what we want to say to the current young ones our Alma Mater are protecting and guiding through their journey as an individual.

Casual short sleeve blue summer dress just above her knees and wearing a glass looking 2-inch ankle strap heals finish with a simple make-up and a single half side braided hair Kim walked down on the stage after she finished delivering her encouragement and for Paul to deliver his massage as Paul where speaking a calm and refreshing wind blows making him and her smiling admiringly at each other.

Kim sees again the younger version of herself and Paul that are on the process of making what they are together now has been fulfilled, how the way they see, cherished and care for each other.  

Kim sees the struggles, hardship, and obstacle that they experienced and experiencing up until now. Most especially appearing before her eyes how they manage to overcome their struggles, surpass all the hardship and be successful through all the obstacle laid out for them.

“I hope that all of you even though you struggle like Kim and stop studying for a while like me still dreams and achieve what we both of us have and will just be making.” Paul ends his message smiling at Kim.

Walking again up on the stage with Paul helping Kim by holding her hands. The event speaker congratulates all the student and give acknowledgements to both Paul and Kim.

Kim trusts Paul and Paul believes to Kim, he completes her the most and she fill’s him love that he believes no one could ever give to him. Paul is her longtime crush, and he loves Kim endlessly.

“Once again let’s give our thanks’ to Mr. and Mrs. Cruz for sharing such a wonderful and inspiring message”

- YellowStrawberry💛

June 13, 2021

[roads-rise-to-meet-me]

Cyberpunk OC’s Incorrect Quotes Vol. 4

Is it that time again my dudes.  Vol. 1 Vol. 2 Vol. 3 Vol. 5 Valkyrie, Female Nomad V - Me Valiant, Male Streetkid V - @johnnysilverhandsimpressivecock Vixen, Female Streetkid V - @cappy-bara Virus, Male Nomad V @cappy-bara Jaz, Male Corpo V @cappy-bara Valiant: Question. When they shot Bambi's mother, did you find that a sad moment...At all? Valkyrie: I'm sure she's mounted on a nice wall in a fine home somewhere. --- Kerry: It'll be fun. Kerry: We'll make it a girls day. Kerry: Come on you punk bitch. Vixen: I can't believe I have to say this. Vixen: I don't have time to get tested for STI's with you tomorrow. --- Vixen: I was awoken by the sound of mockery. Where is it? Show me the object of ridicule! Valkyrie: I’m taller than Goro! Takemura: By one inch. Kerry: Hey, hey, don’t get…Short with your girlfriend, haha! Virus: Now, Kerry, I hope you don’t think little of him. Valiant: Ha ha! Yes! And, and uh…He’s short! --- Valiant: How are your breakfast burritos? Cashier: Disgusting. Valiant: I’ll take a jumbo. --- Takemura, After Valkyrie Threatens Him: You think you can intimidate me? I have been through hell. Valkyrie, Pointing To An Unconscious Valiant: Big deal. I’ve watched over this gonk for a year, so not only have I been through hell, I was conditionally in charge there. --- Kerry: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river. Johnny: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in his own pool. Big difference. --- Valiant: -Performing Sleight Of Hand Magic Tricks- Takemura: You know, every time you do this I check for my wallet. -Pats His Pocket- Valiant: -Pulls The Wallet Out Of His Own Pocket- 

---

Jaz: Takemura-san, I think you should play the role of my father.

Takemura: I do not want to be your father.

Jaz: That's perfect. You already know your lines.

---

Valkyrie: Can we circle back to your not at all weird and very detailed theories on our weaknesses?

Takemura: Oh. You do not believe me? That is fine. I will just demonstrate.

Takemura: Kerry’s weakness? Tech.

Takemura: Valiant? Fire.

Takemura: Vixen? Also fire.

Takemura: Valkyrie? Cannot act to save her life. Also, extreme hair envy with Vixen.

Takemura: Johnny? Crippling self-loathing mixed with overwhelming hubris.

Johnny, In Valiant’s Body: Woah woah woah woah. That is really personal compared to “fire”.

---

Takemura: I do not know how to tell you this, but you are in love with me.

Valkyrie: What?

Valkyrie: ...

Valkyrie: Oh my God, I am.

Valiant: What kind of confession did I just witness?

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

This Christmas - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 3)

Two life long friends. Secretly in love. Home for the holidays. Will they risk everything by telling the other how they feel? Or will they spend another year loving from afar? 

Read these first    Prologue     Part 1    Part 2

**

It was now morning and you stared at the blank document in front of you. You have now written the first twelve chapters and you’ve hit a wall. A big, huge fucking wall. You had been trying to write now for well over an hour and you just couldn’t come up with anything. You made a few notes as to what you wanted to happen, but figuring out how point a leads to point c… you were blanking.

You finally decided to take a break, sneaking inside the house and making breakfast. It was still quite early, so you thought it would be nice to do the cooking while you were staying there. You searched around for ingredients and pans you would need. Of course, there was something on the very top shelf you couldn’t reach. You sighed, standing on your tippy toes, barely able to grab it. You just needed a few more inches and you would have been able to get it.

However, just before you decided to go and grab a chair, you felt a heated weight pressed against you and a tattooed hand grabbing the item for you.

“I see you haven’t grown much since we were twelve,” Harry smirked in your ear.

Goosebumps covered your skin while your face heated up, “Fuck off,” you smirked back, pushing him off of you.

You turned around seeing him standing there wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants and some crazy bed head.

“New style you’re going for there?” You smirked, walking past him and over to the counter.

“I still haven’t heard a thank you,” he pointed out.

“Thank you for being a foot taller than me, so that you could reach the flour for me,” you joked.

“I believe you should be thinking my Mum and Dad for that,” he winked.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “What are you doing up this early anyway?”

“Jet lag,” he shrugged.

“Right,” you said. “So, what part of the world did you travel from this time?”

You poured out each of the ingredients while Harry watched you.

“LA,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right, the movie,” you said, nodding. “How’d that go?”

“It was great,” he said. “I loved it.”

“Any spoilers?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Netflix special,” he said, leaning up against the counter. “Congrats on that by the way.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “And I would totally give you spoilers but nothing is going on with it yet. They’re still casting some of the characters.”

“Speaking of, I’m hurt you didn’t offer me the starring role,” he joked.

“And make your head even bigger, no thank you,” you giggled.

“Well, I mean I do seem to have an awful lot in common with your main love interest,” he pointed out.

You froze, staring at the mixture in the bowl, trying to figure out what the next step would be. However, your hesitation pretty much proved he was right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you squeaked.

“I’m just teasing you,” he smirked, knocking your shoulder with his. “But you have to admit there are a few similarities.”

“Your point?” You asked.

“No, point,” he said. “Just dropping a hint on the next time Netflix comes your way, I’m available.”

“Wait… is The Harry Styles coming to me for a job?” You gasped. “Is the bank account drying up that quickly?”

“Ha. Ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Since you’re going to make fun of me, I guess I’ll just go back to sleep and let you make pancakes all by yourself.”

“That was the plan all along,” you pointed out.

“Okay then… I’m going,” he said, staring at you.

“Okay, then go,” you smirked, shooing him out.

“Oh, come on,” he whined. “You know you want my help.”

“You can put the flour back on the top shelf,” you told him as you finished mixing the batter for the pancakes.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the rest of the ingredients and putting them back in their proper places. As he did this, he caught himself glancing over in your direction. His gaze dropping down the length of your body and back up again. You were wearing leggings and a large jumper with the sleeves pushed up. Your hair was yet again in a messy bun with strands of hair sticking out around your face.

The real reason Harry was awake so early wasn’t purely from jet lag, but from having a dream about you. The last few weeks, you had been on his mind more than usual, but ever since seeing you again you were all he thought about. More specifically, he thought about the time he walked in on you in the bathtub the other night. He thought what it would have been like to join you to feel your skin against him.

And there he was again, thinking about you. He really needed to stop or else he was going to have another problem.

“Harry!” You snapped your fingers in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah, what? Sorry,” he said, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“You okay over there?” You asked. “You kinda spaced out for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, great,” he said as his face blushed a shade of pink.

“Can you heat up the veggie sausage?” You asked.

“Sure, sure,” he said.

You looked over at him as he fumbled around. You held back a giggle as you watched him. While you were finishing up the pancakes, your mind started to wander into the thoughts of if mornings would always be like this if you and Harry had ever given a relationship a try. You may never know in real life, but this was your little glimpse into what could have been and you weren’t sure if it was a good thought or a bad one.

**

Later that afternoon, you finally managed to write and finish an entire chapter. You still weren’t where you wanted to be, but progress was progress at this point. It was around lunch time, so you were just finishing up getting ready to go out with Harry. You weren’t sure what was on the agenda, but you were looking forward to it. You also made a mental note that tomorrow you needed to visit your mum for a bit because it was kinda rude that you were spending time with Harry and Anne when you told your mother you were going to be working the whole time.

Which you were, most of the time, but you still needed to go see her. Anyway, while you were getting ready you received a text from your editor asking about how things were going with the book.

Hey, Y/N! Just checking in to see how things are coming along.

Hey! Things are… going. I am writing and I’ve gotten quite a bit done in the last few days. Once I’m finished with the first fifteen, I’ll send them your way, sound good?

Perfect. I can’t wait to see what you came up with!

Let’s hope you still feel that way once you’ve read them. Ha!

After a few more texts back and forth, you double checked yourself in the mirror before grabbing your coat and heading out to meet Harry. You didn’t have to walk very far because he was already out the door of the main house, carrying a few bags with him.

“Um, are we taking a road trip for lunch?” You laughed.

“Nope,” he said. “But we do need some essentials.”

“Food better be included in that because I’m starving,” you said.

“It wouldn’t be lunch without food,” he said in a duhh tone.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, where are we going that we need all of these essentials, whatever that means.”

“You’ll see,” he smirked. “Now, let’s get going.”

The two of you walked out of the backyard and walked towards the walking trail that connected to the end of the street. The walk was filled with silence from the two of you, but it was refreshing. Any awkwardness that started out between you was now creeping away and everything felt like no time had passed.

It was strange really, but then again it was you and Harry. About twenty minutes later, you and Harry arrived at the nearby park, where he placed the bags on a picnic table. He took out a blanket that he used to cover the table in two shorter ones to place on the benches connected to it. Next, he took out containers of food filled with fruit, sandwiches, and crisp spreading them over the table. Finally, he took out some drinks before looking over at you.

“Lunch is served,” he smirked holding his hand out.

“Wow, you really went all out, didn’t you?” You laughed sitting down on one side while he took a seat across from you.

“Eh, I figured this was better than going into town,” he said.

“Do people still come up to you here?” You asked, popping a strawberry in your mouth.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Most of the time things are pretty chill and people just want to chat me up, see how I’m doing. And then others, usually the younger generation are the ones who are a bit more… uh… “

“Annoying? Bothering you?” You added.

“Basically, yeah,” he nodded with a laugh.

“One… hearing you say the younger generation really makes me feel old,” you laughed. “And two, how do you get used to random people just coming up to you like that. Occasionally, I’ll have someone say hi to me… but that’s very rare.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It comes with the territory I guess.”

“I guess you have been dealing with it for over a decade,” you said. “Which is still hard to believe.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “I still can’t believe it and I’ve lived it. There’s so much I’ve already done that sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m only twenty six and still have a lot of life left to live.”

“You’ve definitely done and seen more than most people our age,” you nodded. “Is that why… you tend to spend more time with other uh… celebrities because they understand that part of your life?”

Harry sighed, putting his sandwich down as he thought over his words, “In the beginning yes. I had all these thoughts of who I was supposed to be, or where I was supposed to be or who I was supposed to be seen with. I kinda lost myself and what I wanted to do in it. Like I used to think I had to live in LA because that’s what everyone did when they made it, but now I can’t stay there more than a few weeks at the most.”

You nodded, taking a bite of your own sandwich in response.

“I don’t want to say that’s what happened with us,” he started. “But I can’t lie either. The truth is, I don’t know what happened, really. Things got overwhelming and I just... “

“Stopped calling?” You finished for him.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“I’ll admit, when our friendship kinda just ended… I was pissed. I was hurt. I hated you for a good little bit. I was jealous whenever I saw you out with other friends or at all these exclusive parties. I thought I wasn’t good enough to be in your life anymore. Like I was the past and that’s where I was supposed to stay,” you whispered. “But then I realized, I was also to blame. The phone works both ways and I never tried to call or text you again. I could have tried one more time and maybe that would have been the time and we wouldn’t have lost years out on our friendship.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I would have still been an ass and everything would have stayed the same.”

“Guess we’ll never know, huh?” You asked.

“Good thing that’s in the past, right?” He asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled.

**

You and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon at the park talking about everything. It was like you two were trying to make up for all the years you hadn’t talked and in a way you two were. When you were done talking, you walked along the park, which quickly turned into a little game of running around and jumping on his back, just like old times.

By the time you both headed back home, it was getting dark. Houses covered in Christmas lights lit up the night sky and the two took a bit of a detour looking at all of the decorations. There were times you caught yourself looking at Harry more than looking at the different lights and decorations set ups. Your head and your heart were having a severe disconnect at the moment.

Your head was trying to be all logical and warning you about letting your guard down. Old feelings you had previously suppressed were slowly coming up, but your head kept trying to push them down. Your heart, however, kept fluttering whenever he would laugh or your hands would slightly brush up against one another. After a bit, you found yourself clenching your fist because the want to grab his hand and lace his fingers with yours was becoming unbearable.

If only you knew, Harry was feeling the same way. He glanced at you, smiling to himself as he watched the lights glowing over your skin. Being with you today further proved that he was in love with you. He realized then, he couldn’t hold back his feelings from you much longer and he didn’t want to, he had to get them out.

Harry stopped all of a sudden looking over at you, “Y/N…”

“Yeah, H?” You asked, turning around to look at him.

“I-” he started.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“I-I,” he stuttered out. “I’m really glad we’re doing this…. Reconnecting… and shit.”

“I am, too,” you smiled.

Harry forced a smile, mentally kicking himself in the ass for chickening out as the two of you finished the rest of the walk back to the house.

**

Uh oh! Who do you think will be the first one to finally admit their feelings?

Find out in PART 4, posted tomorrow at Midnight CST. :)

[ficforce]

Running Scared Part 2

Y/N sat on the raised platform that lead out to the very small garden of her home and her fingertips tapped nervously on the edge of the small table; Konro suggested they head out there to talk. She had pulled out the zabuton for them to sit on and he made her stay out in the warm, night air whilst he made tea in her kitchen. She could hear the voices of her friends and neighbours drifting over from the streets, sounds of games being played and a few friendly arguments over who was buying the next round of drinks - she was almost certain she heard Hinata and Hikage’s giggles from the other side of her fence.

Konro set the teapot down and poured for them both, “I can’t remember the last time we had tea out here, your tree got pretty tall… it’s almost as tall as Waka.”

“Which is still not that tall,” Konro looked at her and grinned, one of their past times had been picking on Benimaru. Y/N watched him as he looked over the dimly lit space, the lanterns all around town had brightened up everything but the stars were still perfectly visible, much more so than in the Cities. She hadn’t realised he wasn’t in uniform; his hair was pulled back as usual but the yukata seemed almost new, it was simple in a dark, navy colour that matched his eyes and at the shoulder seams, she noticed silver crosses providing a little decoration. They reminded her of the tattoos that encircled his biceps.

He didn’t seem to be as heavily bandaged as usual and somehow it made him look a little softer. Not that that made any sense to her but that’s what Y/N thought, “You’re missing the festival because of me…” He couldn’t tell her he wasn’t going in an attempt to make her feel better, he was dressed up for it and she also guessed he would have spent it with the twins, “I’m okay now, Konro. I would have spent the evening out here or by the window anyway.”

“I’m not that bad a company… besides,” he fixed her with a gentle but firm stare, “You agreed to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” He had only wanted to come out tonight in hopes of seeing her, it wasn’t quite the scenario he had envisioned though.

Y/N picked up her cup as a distraction and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, “Okay…”

x - -

“Y/N!” The woman’s head turned toward the closed hatch as she heard Benimaru’s voice - shortly followed by the distinct sound of Konro smacking the back of the younger man’s head. She laughed as Benimaru complained and opened up the hatch to see her two favourite Hikeshi, “‘bout time. I’m starving.” He took the bento she offered him and settled himself in the shade her doorstep provided.

Konro looked about ready to hit him again.

“Would you like some tea, Konro?” Her question brought the disapproving glare away from Benimaru and Konro’s expression softened for her as he nodded, he thanked her when she gave him a bento and he leaned on the counter to eat it, “I had to close earlier than usual today.” Y/N spoke a little louder as she prepared the drinks, “I sold out completely - though I made sure to save you two some food. I’m getting popular!”

The man swallowed a mouthful of rice before replying, “That’s great, Y/N. And you haven’t had any more trouble with those brats?”

“Not since you made one of them piss their pants,” she handed him a cup and Konro nudged Benimaru with his foot to get his attention, Y/N heard a muffled thanks from around whatever he was chewing on and smiled. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for me…”

He shrugged and took the cup she offered him, “Its all part of the job.”

“No, it’s not.” Benimaru’s voice piped up from the doorstep - followed by a small ‘ow’ as Konro kicked him.

“Yes. It is.” Maybe he had taken it a little further than usual but he didn’t appreciate the wannabe gang trying to extort money from Y/N’s business… or anyone else. The Hikeshi were supposed to keep the peace and stop it from becoming as lawless as the Empire seemed to think it already was. “If I didn’t scare the hell out of them they’d only come back, might makes right.” It was as simple as that; the strongest ran Asakusa. Konro was just glad that the Hikeshi were on the side of the people rather than a gang of thugs out for themselves.

Watching him eat for a moment longer, admiring his broad shoulders and the way the muscles in his arms moved when he lifted food to his mouth - a mouth she had thought about kissing…

Y/N felt her face heat up and quickly set about cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the supplies she had bought a little earlier. Konro had a way of looking intimidating whilst, at the same time, being the gentlest man she knew. His presence never failed to put butterflies in her stomach and make her giddy as a schoolgirl with her first crush.

She didn’t seem to notice Konro stealing glances at her as she kept herself busy, occasionally she would almost catch him but managed to play it off, smiling to himself as he thought it was cute that she could be so shy… He just hoped it was because she liked him too. “Y/N… you wanna go to that new bar with me tonight?”

“What?” Benimaru looked at him with an almost glare, he put his empty cup down by his side and crossed his arms, “You coulda asked me.”

Y/N returned to the counter, leaning over it just enough to see him at the side of her home, “Maybe he’ll ask when you’re twenty-one.” She tossed him one of the salted snacks he said he liked and grinned as he caught it with ease, “I know you can get hold of sake but good luck getting it in an actual bar, short stuff.”

“I’m taller than you… probably.”

The woman turned her head to look at Konro, her eyes widening as she realised their faces weren’t that far apart with them both leaning on the counter, the serious edge to her voice faltered a little, “D-don’t even think about sneaking him in.”

Konro chuckled into his tea; she could be quite motherly when it came to Benimaru. Placing the empty cup on the counter he leaned in just a little more and his hand moved to cover hers on the counter, “I was asking you.” It was fun watching her flounder at his obvious attempt at asking her on a date, he could almost feel the heat radiating off her cheeks and her shy smile only made him want to lean in the last few inches to steal a kiss.

“I… yeah, that sounds good…”

“I’ll pick you up at s-” the sound of someone screaming cut through his words and as the three of them looked in the direction it had come from a plume of black smoke rose into the sky. “Infernal…” Konro stood back up straight and then another plume appeared, followed by a third and fourth in quick succession before the alarm began to ring from the watchtower. “Y/N, go inside and don’t leave unless a Hikeshi says otherwise.”

Y/N nodded quickly and watched as the two men ran toward the centre of town. Closing the hatch and locking it tightly she stood still with her hands fisted in her apron - something wasn’t right… Surely that many people hadn’t combusted all at once?

A chill trickled down her spine as her fingers started to feel cold, letting go of her apron and shaking them out she ran to her room to grab an overnight bag in case she needed a temporary home in the guardhouse. It wouldn’t be the first time Benimaru wrecked her house.

And then she waited as it began to get unnaturally dark; the feeling of dread her only company.

It was hard to tell how quickly or slowly time was ticking by as she heard explosions from outside, often followed by screams and then there was what sounded like dozens of feet running past her house. A loud bang on her door made her drop her bag, “We’re evacuating to the river!” whoever it was yelling through her door was gone just as quick but she heard them yell the same at the next house and then the one after that. Y/N opened her door, stumbling back as heat washed over her face and the smoke assaulted her nose and mouth, through slightly watering eyes she saw that the sky was masked out by smoke, ash and flames as Asakusa burned violently. Crowds of people were running past her and she did her best to stay at the edge of it and not become affected by the mass hysteria.

This wasn’t normally how evacuations went, this wasn’t well organised and there was none of the usual bravado that Asakusa’s residents showed - they were terrified.

Red and orange flames jumped from house to house as if chasing them, and perhaps it was the panic but Y/N thought she saw the figure of a person in the flames. The thought flew from her mind as she felt someone push into her and sent her onto her hands and knees in the dirt. A knee knocked into her cheek and someone else stepped on her ankle, it was all she could do to turn herself into a ball to protect herself from being trampled. The crowd soon overtook her and Y/N bit down a pained sob as she tried to stand, hobbling forward a few steps forward before freezing solid - the turn at the end of the street, where all those people had run, had become an inferno.

Screams and yells that had been panicked morphed into ones of agony.

The woman couldn’t even draw in a breath as she watched burning people stagger and fall back into view. Some were infernalised, whilst most were burning alive; Men, women and even the children. The smell of burning hair, and flesh, and clothes ravished her senses and made her gag. Her inability to move, the fear paralysing her, made it possible for the burning crowd to stagger or crawl back towards her; it wasn’t until someone grabbed her injured ankle that she had the sense to runaway.

x - -

Konro’s hand went to the back of his neck and he couldn’t speak - or rather, he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known what she had seen or gone through, he hadn’t even known she’d gotten hurt or trampled or burned or anything. All he had known in the first few days after the fire was that she was cooking for anyone who needed feeding and that she came to the guardhouse a few times. “I’m sorry… I shoulda checked on you.” During her description of what had happened he had reached for her hand after she had started to cry, he gave it a small squeeze as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“You were so heavily sedated you barely knew which way was up… idiot.” His sudden guilt made her want to hit him because there hadn’t been anything he could do but at the same time, it was sweet of him. “I… I heard you and Beni through the wall that night.” His head tilted a little and she continued, “I locked myself inside the house and huddled up as far away from the door as I could and I heard you telling him he was at his limit and then it got really quiet and this… this horrible feeling came over me.”

Konro grit his teeth, he remembered what came next and he hadn’t known she was in the house - he could have killed her. He had taken out the houses around him and somehow left hers standing. Maybe he did it unconsciously? It was her home and her business, it was important to her so it was also important to him. “That was just before I put Beni out of commission. I didn’t want him burning himself out and ending up…” he gestured vaguely to himself, “Like me.”

“It sounded like a hell of a fight, the whole house shook and I really thought it was going to come down on top of me. I remember getting my first panic attack and passing out after I heard what must have been your Akatsuki rip up the ground,” Y/N felt his hand move onto of hers and when she looked up he was staring at the table with his head bowed, it wasn’t hard to tell he was berating himself and Y/N took her hand from his so that she could move to sit beside him. Leaning into his arms a little she took his hand in both hers, “What’s wrong?”

She was warm against his side, the weight on him wasn’t enough to bother his damaged skin too much and even if it did he wouldn’t want her to move. It was nothing short of a miracle to him that she wanted to be this close, especially after everything he had put her through, “I knew I’d frightened you…” Konro felt his voice crack a little and cleared his throat before continuing, still unable to meet her eyes, “It just wasn’t the same between us again and I couldn’t figure out why you were so uncomfortable near me… It was only today that I realised you live opposite the mess I made and now I find out you were in my… you were in range for the shockwave to have brought your house down on top of you - I could have killed you, Y/N!”

“That’s not it at all!” Without thinking, she grabbed his face with both her hands and turned his head to look at her, silently pleading for him to listen and actually believe what she was saying, “You nearly died, Konro, you gave all you had to fight for our Town! I’m not scared of you, I’ve never been afraid of you, Konro… I just…” She needed to tell him or she really would lose him, “I can hardly leave the house anymore, I was scared you’d ask me out and I’d have to say no and then you’d never speak to me again!”

He felt her hands beginning to tremble and caught them in his, bringing them down to her lap. Y/N looked down at their hands and then back at his face where he was gazing at her the way he used to; like she was something special and adored. She had expected pity but found none.

The Lieutenant reached out to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers, “I wish I had asked you sooner, so that you didn’t have to keep running away. I guess I was scared too; worried you might say no.” The man pulled away from her and with a ghost of a smile on his lips he opened up the pouch tied to his belt, “We don’t have to go out to have fun, I could come here and if you want to stay at the guardhouse then I’ll walk with you the entire way. I only took tonight off because I hoped I would meet you and give you this…”

He held out a kanzashi. It was a single round petalled flower on a hairpin, he hoped it was still her favourite colour and Konro watched her expression nervously, “I’m not great at making these but it’s the best one I could manage because they’re kinda fiddly.” When she didn’t react or say anything he started to doubt himself and was tempted to put the small gift back, “It’s a dumb tradition… making a kanzashi for the girl you want to take to the festival.”

“Konro… I…” Y/N’s face felt hot and she gripped the hand he had left on her lap, “I can’t go out there, I want to take it, I want to spend time with you again.” Tears pricked her eyes again and she looked down, “I can’t go out there, Konro! I’m sorry, I’m sor-” Her whole body fell forward as she was pulled to him, Konro hugged her to his chest and stroked her back; it was so similar to when he had calmed her down earlier.

“We don’t have to go out,” he slid the kanzashi into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “A man only goes to a festival for three things; Pretty women, sake and fireworks.” Almost as if he had timed it a whistle sounded up into the stars and burst into colour, “I have two out of three.” Feeling her turn her head so that she could watch the fireworks, Konro felt his heart flutter when her arms wrapped his middle.

Y/N sucked in her bottom lip, thinking as she watched the sky blossoming every colour imaginable, “You know, if you stay a little longer… I can find some sake.”

“I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me, Y/N.”

[harvestdew]

More cleo / haley (cley? Halo?) Headcanons pleaseeee <3

idk i'm obsessed with cley it sounds so funny. THANK U FOR ASKING THO ask and you shall receive

haley + cleo headcanons

cleo is taller than (my version) of haley but they don't have that massive of a height difference. i get 5'5-5'6 energy from haley and cleo's around 5'8 (which was kinda pushing it for a runway model). but w/ boots cleo is 2 inches taller. actually kinda pisses haley off when cleo calls her tiny to be a little shit and uses her as an elbow rest

anyone else remember nohra's cal because we established that cleo and cal hate each other even though haley and alex are good friends. haley forces cleo to go on double dates with them once in a while knowing it'll make cleo miserable but it never ends well. can't take either of them anywhere

cleo would never get back into modeling but feels comfortable enough to model for haley so she can practice her photography u_u i hc that haley and emily start a small clothing shop and use cleo to model some of their stuff for their website and cleo is happy to do it for free

cleo actually likes pda but only with haley. she's really smug abt it too bc after dealing with coming to terms with her lesbianism she has a lot of pride in how much she loves her gf. haley also likes being shown off because cleo just likes going LOOK HOW FUCKING PERFECT MY GIRLFRIEND IS. she has selfies or pictures of haley as her lock and home screens' wallpaper

already mentioned this but haley and cleo pretended to date first since i loved this to all the boys i've ever loved AU with her and took some snippets of it. basically they got together bc haley doesn't wanna make her friendship with alex awkward even though he actually has no interest in her. but then cleo did write a sort of break up song about haley bc they break up during their fake relationship (because cleo can't really fathom having real feelings for the person she likes since she's spent her whole life dating men she disliked). haley rightfully gets upset since they have a huge falling out over it but cleo takes it pretty bad and writes the song out of spite. i wasn't going to add a breakup arc until i heard the song woke up by marceline and did a double take. and to be honest sometimes she still performs it while they're dating cuz she was like "sorry this was a banger idk." she wrote haley a love song after to make up for it though </3

cleo realized she had genuine feelings for haley (sorry for being predictable) during her 8 heart event. something abt seeing haley go from being like "ew you smell like fish you're disgusting" to not caring about falling in the mud since she's having a good time gave her a heart attack. but her opinion about haley first changed drastically during her 6 heart event when she helped haley find her bracelet and haley thanks her where she thinks "oh she's not that bad"

after everything settles though and their feelings are pretty clear haley is the one who gives cleo the bouquet instead of the typical farmer gives bachelorette a bouquet. it inspired cleo to eventually take up basic gardening so she could grow sunflowers for haley all by herself and give them to her in the summer

haley sometimes begs cleo to let her do her makeup and dress her. their styles are so different that cleo would never be caught wearing anything haley does but she loves haley too much to say no sometimes so she just gives up on fighting it. haley tries to dress her in stuff that does fit her style but likes testing cleo's patience with cutesy clothing (which always ends with "if you weren't my girlfriend i'd blow my lid rn because this outfit's so ugly"). it's okay though because haley lets cleo play around with her hair

cleo didn't come to pelican town with her bass from her previous band since she smashed it into pieces. she didn't play for a while out of insecurity but when haley learned about it she ended up pitching the idea to sam to get cleo a bass she pointed out liking when they were hanging out. it was her feast of the winter star gift and cleo almost cried u_u. so basically we can thank sam but more importantly haley for helping her get her groove back

speaking of which tho haley is sam's band's biggest fan only cuz her gf is in it. she acts like a groupie and attends all their events and even wears the merch. cheers loudest at every single concert and is always at the front of the venue so she gets the best view even if she fucking hates seeing sebastian on the keyboard (my haley also hates him LOL)

i honestly feel like there's more but i'm forgetting it... BUT THAT'S ALL THAT I COULD REMEMBER and this post got really long. ty for the ask tho it makes me happy to see ppl interested in my disaster lesbians <:]

[slash-em-up]

In-Flight Entertainment Pt. 2: Chromeskull x Reader

Here’s part 2!! As promised, this is almost entirely SMUT!! You’ve been warned. Enjoy!!

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

The goth-pirate known as ‘Jesse’ sure made a mean cocktail.

You giggled and flopped onto the couch, letting your free arm run lightly over the soft leather as you kicked off your Ugg’s.

“Jesus, if I could travel like this maybe I wouldn’t hate flying so much.”

Your dinner partner leaned back in the too-small dining room chair and smirked at you, draining the last of his drink before pouring another from the pitcher of Old Fashions he’d mixed at your request.

He’d signed ‘All the good whiskey is gone anyway…’ and then ruined all other Old Fashions for you forever.

Dinner had tasted like it was from a five-star restaurant. Hardly the Big Mac you’d been contemplating before being ‘abducted’. Your eyes had nearly popped out of your head as suit-clad waiters appeared through the suites door and offered you both menus before Jesse waved them off, texting that you’d both take ‘one of everything’.

Now you were full, a little tipsy, and having a pretty great time, all things considered.

“Do you always fly like this?”

Jesse shook his head.

‘Sometimes I don’t have a layover.’

You laughed “Smartass!” before slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Sorry. That was rude.”

He waved you off with a dismissive gesture.

‘It’s OK. I am. But don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.’

“Oh? And what reputation is that?” You smiled teasingly. God, were you really flirting? You didn’t even know him - not really.

Jesse tilted his head and looked at you - the grin he’d been sporting all night slowly dropping.

‘Not a terribly pleasant or interesting one.’

You sobered a bit as well.

“Well whatever you do out there…” you gestured vaguely at the door “… You’ve been a glorious smart-ass in here.”

The tall man grinned again, dropping his head in a mocking bow at your side-ways compliment.

Taking another sip of your drink you tried to think of another topic of conversation - something that would bring you back into nice neutral territory.

But then Jesse started to unbutton his shirt.

Not much - he clearly wasn’t trying to do a strip-tease for you - but the buttons he undid left just enough skin exposed for you to see the beginnings of a tattoo on his chest and the faint lines of his pectoral muscles skimming teasingly beneath his black button-down and your brain went completely blank.

“Umm…”

Very eloquent.

Jesse followed your gaze and gave you a look.

‘A little stuffy in here, right?’

“Sure…”

‘Only six more hours till take-off if the god damn snow lets up…’

“Hopefully…”

‘Am I bothering you?’

He undid another button.

“No!” you gasped out, tearing your eyes away from the new inches of skin he’d exposed - this time definitely teasing you on purpose.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

Jesse huffed in a way you’d come to learn was his way of laughing.

‘Stare all you like - less annoying than pretending you’re not looking at the face, honestly.’

Now you really wanted to ask what’d happened to his face; but thankfully you had enough of your faculties still in-tact to decide that probably wasn’t a good idea if you wanted him to keep working on those buttons.

And you really, really did.

“You’re right. It is pretty stuffy in here…”

I mean, it wasn’t entirely untrue - the thermostat was set to a balmy 73 degrees, and despite the snowstorm outside you were pretty toasty in this weird grand-theft suitcase fever dream you were experiencing.

And the fact that your stomach was doing very strange things when Jesse smirked and slowly pushed another button through its hole, revealing even more tattooed skin, could definitely be blamed on the dinner.

Too much rich food and your stomach was starting to do flip-flops.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the inches of muscular skin covered in intricate ink that was now bared nearly entirely to your gaze.

Fuck. You were in trouble.

You swallowed roughly as your eyes met Jesse’s. He looked like he was nearly ready to pounce on you - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to.

“You know… I wasn’t planning to hook up on this trip…”

Jesse’s eye narrowed as his lips twitched into a teasing grin.

‘I saw the underwear you packed. I HOPE you weren’t planning on hooking up on your trip.’

Your mouth dropped.

“Hey! I - “

But before you could respond Jesse had moved from his chair with an unanticipated speed; coming to kneel before your sprawl across the couch.

He was immediately in your space, mouth inches from yours as even on his knees he was much, much taller than you were sitting.

Your eyes caught his as his lips grazed lightly over yours.

“And I supposed you packed appropriate underwear for hooking up?”

Jesse responded by threading one large hand into your hair and pulling you forward into a rough kiss.

You moaned as he ran his tongue along the seam of your lips - which you opened immediately - only to do so again in frustration as he barely dipped inside before retreating, teasing you as your tongue chased after.

Frustrating man, frustrating kisser… that tracked.

Running your hands along his chest, you made short work of the couple of remaining buttons and pushed the soft fabric down his arms - surprising him, and yourself by pulling the cloth taut half-way down his arms, effectively trapping him as you surged forward and turned, bringing yourself over to straddle his hips.

You gasped as his pelvis thrust up, letting you feel just how much he was enjoying your little foreplay. He felt… proportional. And that was more than a bit intimidating.

“Fuck, Jesse…” you gasped out between kisses.

He nodded in agreement, already breathing heavily as he leaned closer to suck a hickey into the skin of your neck.

Crying out you ground your hips into his - enjoying the vibrations of his silent moan against you as he hardened even further in his slacks.

His teeth pulled at the collar of your shirt and you obliged by quickly removing it and tossing it across the room.

Your bra followed right after before your brain decided to come back online and force you to pull away, looking anywhere but at him - nervous now that your barriers were being removed.

Jesse took advantage of your distraction to twist free of your impromptu bonds, hands coming up to caress your face before running sensuously down your bare sides.

It was hard to be self-conscious when he was so obviously enthralled by you.

He leaned in for another kiss, which you eagerly returned before letting out an indignant squeal as one of his hands landed a sound slap against your still clothed ass.

Your eyes popped open as you felt him take ahold of you and hoist you both up to standing before setting you gently back against a cold, smooth surface.

Oh god, was that the window?!

He was going to fuck you in front of a window.

Your embarrassment level dialed up to fifty; but then Jesse dropped to his knees in front of you, and you decided your modesty and confidence issues could fuck right off for a while.

Unsure of where to put your hands, you settled them across his broad shoulder as he leaned in to run his face over the skin of your stomach, kissing you there before moving further down along the seam of your pants until he was pressed right up against your heat.

He inhaled deeply, causing you to shiver and moan. You could feel yourself getting wet and he hadn’t really done more than kiss you.

Your fingers worked frantically at your waistband, trying to push them down your hips so you could bring Jesse even closer to where you desperately wanted him.

Grinning up at you, Jesse’s broad hands joined yours, taking over as his thumbs pulled your leggings down, along with your underwear, leaving you fully nude in front of him.

You motioned to his own tented slacks.

“Fair’s fair…” you gasped.

Jesse stood, towering over you before guiding one of your hands to his fly before pressing both long arms against the window - effectively caging you in with his body; but also giving you license to touch as you wanted.

And holy fuck did you want.

The hand not occupied with freeing his cock roamed unchecked across his skin, tracing each tattoo and feeling, to your surprise, many scars of various shapes and sizes made invisible to the eye by the intricate designs.

It felt like he was hiding a lifetime of pain under there. Some tattoos were bright and fresh; clearly done fairly recently… but some were fading, letting the rough, pale scars peek through.

Jesse watched you as you studied him.

He wondered what you’d think if he told you that every tattoo was designed to mask a wound - that each time he was cut or shot that as soon as he arrived home his team had both doctors and artists ready to patch him up and then ink over the evidence of the violence he perpetrated.

What better way to hide something than to cover it?

You skimmed your hand over his nipple, bringing him from his morbid thoughts with a gasp.

Fuck, that felt good. How long had it been since he’d done this? Not with a piggy; but with someone who he actually - surprisingly -enjoyed having around. Someone with no other ulterior motive than to enjoy a few hours of pleasure with him. God, it had been ages.

Finally finishing with his trousers, you pushed them down his slim hips until he was able to kick them off into a corner.

His cock curved enticingly into the skin of your stomach and you couldn’t help but to dip down and taste him, causing him to toss his head back in pleasure.

You moaned as you filled your mouth with as much of him as you could take, wrapping your hand around the rest and quickly finding a rhythm that made Jesse’s legs shake.

Leaning over you, he let the cold window press against his forehead - he wasn’t going to cum like some teenager from just a blow and a hand. Although he definitely could if his pride would allow it - the noises you were making as you suckled on his length were driving him insane.

Jesse’s hips were moving with you as you sucked and fondled his balls; only to let out a yelp as you were pulled away and turned to press against the chill glass.

Your nipples hardened immediately and you gasped at the sensation along with the visceral jolt of fear that someone would look up at just the right time and see your naked body pressed against the window.

You felt Jesse’s hand come down to cup your mound, sliding one, then two long fingers through your slick before pressing slowly inside.

Jesse turned your head to swallow up your cry of pleasure with his lips as he began a punishing pace.

You may have made his legs shake; but he was determined to make yours buckle.

Soon a third finger joined, prepping you for his cock and you couldn’t help but to hump his hand as the long digits inside of you pounded against your g-spot.

“Please, Jesse, please I can’t, I - “

Your first orgasm of the night went through you like a shot. You screamed up to the ceiling as Jesse wrapped his other arm around your waist to keep you upright - barely giving you a second to recover before his cock was sliding into your hot depths.

“F-fuck!!”

You’d never felt so full in your life, and while your body was still contracting and spasming from your first orgasm, Jesse thrust into you an pulled you mercilessly into another.

“OH MY GOD!!”

Your feet left the ground as the man behind you grasped your knee and across your breasts, lifting you up to angle himself to better drive into you from behind.

A constant stream of babbling praise left your mouth as you wrapped an arm behind you to wrap around Jesse’s neck.

The sound of your wet pussy being filled to the point of overstimulation filled the small room, echoing through the space in a sinful symphony of breathing and moaning and filthy, wet noises.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself crest on a third orgasm, wailing and thrashing enough that Jesse was forced to take you both to your knees lest he drop you - immediately pushing your face down into the ground as his pace increased - his own end nearing as you sobbed out your pleasure - so much pleasure that you couldn’t tell if you were overstimulated beyond reason, or experiencing the world’s longest orgasm.

One, two, three rough thrusts and Jesse finally came into your exhausted cunt.

Shivering and gasping, one last slow orgasm ran through your body as you felt his cock spray it’s seed into you, filling you to bursting.

Jesse collapsed over you, chest heaving.

You couldn’t move. Every part of your body was jelly, and you were pretty sure you were going to die here. That was A-Okay with you.

“Holy shit…”

Jesse nodded tiredly against the back of your neck.

Holy shit indeed.

Slowly turning, you looked up at Jesse, who was still trying to regain his breath above you.

“Is it lame to say ‘thank you’?”

He grinned brightly down at you, pulling you to sit across his lap before signing;

‘Only if it’s lame to say ‘thank you’ back.’

You smiled tiredly.

“Well then I guess neither of us should say it, then.”

Jesse leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, which you barely returned - already half-asleep.

“Mmm... wake me up before the plane leaves…”

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

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

You jolted up, ready to fight, before sinking back down into your seat with a groan.

“Oh fuck me…” you said, raising a hand and running it tiredly over your eyes.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you ma’am; but we need all passengers to secure their luggage before take-off.”

Peering through your fingers, you stared in confusion at the flight attendant.

Why was there a flight attendant here?

Where was here?

Oh shit! You were on a plane!

Now wide awake, you sat up quickly, grasping the flight attendant by the wrist.

“How did I get here? What flight is this?!”

Looking nonplussed, the attendant gently removed your hand.

“You’re on the 10:57 flight from Denver to LA. The snow finally cleared enough for the pilot to take off.”

You stared.

“This isn’t coach…”

“… No ma’am, this is first class.”

“… but I have a coach ticket…”

The attendant glanced down at the ticket stub stuck in the pocket outside your seat.

She looked confused.

“No, ma’am, it says first class here… I’m sorry if there’s been some misunderstanding… maybe the gentleman who brought you aboard can clear things up.”

Now it was your turn to look confused.

“The gentleman who…”

The attendant pointed over your shoulder.

“He’s right over there.”

Swiveling in your seat you stared down the aisle, meeting Jesse’s laughing brown eye from a few rows back.

“Now, like I said we are preparing for takeoff, so if you’d be so kind as to secure your carry-on we’ll be up in the air and serving your complimentary champagne and hors d’oeuvre’s in no time!”

Grumbling under your breath you stuffed your carry-on under your seat.

Well, you supposed there were worse ways to fly.

[baka-monarch]

Dlamp romantic and or drlamp platonic where the bigger Roman’s confidence the taller he is, and one day the other sides find him 2 inches tall like a little pixie and just... Roman angst with hurt/comfort fluff with one or more of the other sides (maybe each side helping him out if it happens multiple times)

All the sides were used to seeing Roman change size. He always flaunted how great he was making himself bigger than all of them, in a literal sense. For, unlike the other sides, Roman would get bigger with his confidence and ego to, as Virgil would call it, "Compensate for his ego." No one ever worried about it, no one had even thought twice about Roman's ability, just feeling marginally annoyed every time he would be tok big for the mind palace or pick then up after winning an argument. Yes, the sides were used to Roman's size shifting antics and never worried about bruising his ego, because he was never smaller than Thomas' actual height, he grew with his ego so there was nothing to worry about... right?

At least that's what they thought.

Roman didn't usually have a bruised ego, but when he did he would hide in his room. Like what he was doing right now, because the others couldn't see him like this, they just couldn't... they couldn't know that he shrank too. What the others didn't know didn't hurt them but it certainly hurt Roman how whenever he felt bad, felt insignificant, infinitesimal, like he was nothing... he got smaller. For his size correlated with his ego, not grew with it. So here Roman was, curled up on his pillow 2 inches tall with the ghost of trolly bells ringing in his ears.

No one had come to check on him. No one had asked him what was wrong as he'd run to his room. No one was worried. Knowing that, only made this that much worse.

Roman sobbed onto his knees, not even caring that his tears were going to ruin his suit or that his hair was a mess. No one else cared, so why should he? Maybe he should just shrink out of exsistance, it's not like anyone would notice. Thomas would be fine without him, he had a creativity that was just so much better than him, not to mention how great of a hero Janus was. So much better than some prince who only let everyone down.

It felt like hours before Roman was shaken from his thoughts as he jumped at a knock at his door. "Ro, you okay in ther?" It was Virgil. The emo of their group definitely wouldn't care about him. They argued so much that Roman wouldn't be surprised if Virgil was relieved if he just disappeared.

"Y-yeah!" Roman managed to choke out to try and get him to leave.

"That doesn't sound fine to me, oh brother dearest!" That was Remus, his brother definitely would be happy to see him gone.

"Agreed. I kay not know much about emotions but he does not sound "fine."" And Logan? Why were they all here? Not to check if he was okay surely...?

"What's actually going on Princey?" Virgil's deadpan voice rang out.

"I can assure you everything if practically perfect!" 'No need to worry' was left off seeing as they weren't worried.

"Yeah, no I don't think so." Virgil replied. "Remus, could you?"

"It would be my pleasure." Remus said making Roman's eyes widen as he realized what they were doing. He was about to shout out and stop them but it was too late as Remus' morning star burst through his door. Before they got in Roman hid behind his pillows.

"It was unlocked." Was the first thing Logan said as soon as the door was in statters.

"Oh yeah..." Virgil's observant voice came.

"Yes, but this way there was dramatic affect!" Remus whispered, to which Roman could practically sense Virgil's eye roll at.

"Come out Roman, you can't hide from your emotions!" Virgil called out as all three of them entered and started looking around. Roman shuffled further into the side of his pillow as Remus got closer.

"I think I found him!" Remus exclaimed as he started grabbing the pillow making Roman pale.

"I do not wish to disappoint you, but that is a pil-" Logan cutt himself off as Remus pulled the pillow away revealing the tiny Roman. "-oh." Roman ignored him as he dived to get behind the bed.

"Nuh-uh-uh!" Remus said as he easily scooped Roman up before he could disappear into the void that was the space between his bed and wall. "So brother, what caused this tiny tantrum of yours?" Remus questioned, but Roman ignored his brother as he squirmed trying to get out.

"Remus, put him down." Virgil said in a cool, calm, and collected tone that was completely unlike him.

"But he could get hurt!" Remus argued.

"Remus." Virgil said sternly and that's all he had to do to get Remus to gently set Roman down on his bedside table.

"Although this is fascinating, I shall help as I can with these... emotions." Logan gave his input. "Roman, what seems to be troubling you."

"Nothing!" Roman forced himself to smile but it was obviously too big. "I am completely fine, you can all leave and not worry about my annoying emotions." Roman shrugged.

Of course Logan took it at face value and nodded as he was about to leave but was stopped by Virgil hissing out "Logan!" quietly as a way to show him that it was not fine. "Obviously something's wrong or else you wouldn't be an inch tall right now." Virgil gestured at Roman's nkw tiny body.

"Actually it's two inches..." Logan mummbled.

"Not the time Nerdy Wolverine." Remus said under his breath, Virgil just let off an annoyed sigh as he heard them. He was surrounded by idiots.

"Roman, what happened?" Virgil kneeled as he said this, giving Roman his full attention, with a tone that meant that Roman was his main focus right now, that Roman wa the most important thing right now, that Roman meant everything right now. That's when the dam broke, Roman couldn't stop as tears came flowing from his eyes and whenever he tried to speak it came out as a muttered mess. "Hey, take all the time you need bud, we'll be here for you whenever you need us."

"Correct, bo matter how much we may disagree, you will always be of high importance Roman, and we will always wish to listen to your contributions." Logan conceded, making Roman release a small chuckle at his wordage.

"Yeah! We may hate each other but I don't hate hate you, I'm still yourbrother after all and it's my job as your brother to protect you no matter how goody-two-shoes you are!" Remus exclaimed making Roman smile.

"You all don't really mean this, you're just saying it so I don't annoy you." Roman tried.

"I just broke down your door so we could make sure you're okay. Count us as your Roman Protection Squad, we'll always be here for you, weather you like it or not!" Remus yelled.

"Always." Virgil nodded.

"Infinatly." Logan added, giving Roman another chuckle.