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callsigndragon · 2 years

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Seeing Red | Ch. 26: The plot thickens ✍️📲

Word count: 4.3k (this is nuts)

Warnings: swearing, dad jake, WHO SENTS THE BOUQUET (read and you'll know), jealous jake, cycunt, someone gets punched pt.2, medical innacuracy but hey i'm a teacher not a doctor, BOB'S WIFE, and a fucking cliffhanger bc this chapter is super long.

A/N: NEXT. CHAPTER. REVEALS. THE. TRUTH. JUST. WAIT. A. BIT. Pls 😭❤️

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It’s been a month since you came here. And what a month!

After the second week of silence regarding the big secret, you stopped waiting. You knew he wanted to tell you; he just needed a bit of time. How much time was a bit, you didn’t know. But you could wait.

During the last month, Jake has been the best father you could have wished for your son. He spent days baby-proofing his house, with Reuben’s help and with a soon-to-be dad named Bob, who took lots of notes. Liam has only been in Jake’s house once, when he hosted a dinner the night before you all left for a mission.

Oh, the mission. It was more of a scouting mission, but you still had to spend almost two weeks on a carrier with the whole squad. That meant sharing a room with Phoenix, small corridors, and a lack of sun. The narrow corridors were the worst part. The universe must have been trying to laugh at you or something, because every time you had to walk through one of those, you found Jake at the other end. It brought thousands of memories. The ones that left you with weak knees. Yeah, he still has that effect on you.

Jake has become a mystery to you. While he may appear to be a completely different person on the outside—someone you don't know—on the inside, he is still the same man you fell in love with.

His entire demeanor has changed, too. It’s like his father's instincts have taken over his personality, and all that bad attitude he displayed with the new recruits or as an instructor is now gone. He has become a perfect aviator, a perfect instructor, and a perfect father. Warlock even came one day to congratulate him for his outstanding behavior.

You’re sure Warlock was the one who came to congratulate him because Cyclone couldn’t even think about it. Every time you two were in the same room, something sent shivers down your spine. You have been trying to avoid him lately.

Everything is perfect. Liam has a lovely and supportive family—more uncles and aunts than days in a week—and Penny and Mav, whom Liam calls Memaw and Pepaw. Your mom, hearing that Liam has so many people surrounding him, has told you that ‘you don’t need her’. She’s literally trying to get you and Jake together, whatever it takes. And she believes she can accomplish this by staying at home with Lady. She has adopted the dog as her own.

Everything is perfect. Well, it could be even better if Jake told you the truth.

But you’ll have to wait for that.

Jake knocks on your door just when you have turned off the computer. “Ready, sweets?”

“Yeah, just let me get my stuff,” You mumble while opening one of the drawers to get some folders.

Jake watches silently as the dog tags slip from the inside of your shirt, hanging from the chain. There they are. The engagement ring he bought, the wedding band you chose together, the one that he placed on your finger at your wedding. How did Amelia get a picture of them? He will ask her later.

Your hand hides them quickly inside your shirt, where they belong, and you glance in Jake’s way. He’s grabbing your bag, his right hand patting his front pocket for some reason. “Warlock is now the babysitter?”

You laugh, closing the drawer and walking to him. “Don’t you think he is better than Dummy Boo?”

“Much, much better. I was thinking that we could have another Disney movie night.” He suggests, opening the door for you.

“Sounds good. We came back a week ago but we’ve been doing so much paperwork…” You groan, trying to get your bag from Jake’s hands, but he softly slaps your hand away. “Give me my bag.”

“Nope,” he grins walking alongside you through the corridor, his hand brushing with yours at every step. He wishes he could just slide his hand between your fingers, draw infinite shapes in your skin.

Ames is right. He needs to tell you.

“It feels like all I’ve seen of him this week is his sleepy form.” Jake mentions, and you nod, because it’s true. He’s been sleeping more lately. Maybe he gets tired at daycare.

“Don’t worry, we still have tons of Disney movies to watch with him. I can’t remember what was the last one we saw.”

“The Emperor’s new groove. Next ones are Atlantis and Lilo and Stitch.”

“Maybe Atlantis is a bit too much for him.” You point out. “Lilo and Stitch.”

“I bought a Stitch plushie. He’s gonna want one of those.” Jake chuckles and you shake your head while laughing.

You sigh, stopping when you reach Warlock’s office. “Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe when Liam falls asleep we could… talk?”

He sees the hope in your eyes, a sparkle in them that makes his heart skip a bit. “Yeah. We’ll talk.”

The smile that you give him in return could illuminate a town for an entire month. “Thank you.”

A part of him feels miserable that you have to thank him for doing something that he should have done before. “You don’t need to thank me, sweets.”

You kiss his cheek and open the door, Jake standing behind you with reddening cheeks. The smiles on your faces drop when you see Cyclone instead of Warlock.

“Where’s Solomon?” You inquire as you observe Liam doodling on a piece of paper.

“He had to leave, and I stayed with Liam.”

"Hey, baby," you say as you kneel in front of him and kiss his cheek.

“Hello, mama.”

“Want to go home?” He nods, and you move his hair out of his face. You need to get him a haircut. “Dada is waiting outside. Can you go with him while I give Beau some boring papers?”

“Dadaaaa!” Liam goes running towards his dad and hugs his leg. Jake drops the bag and hugs him.

“What have you done today, bubs?”

“I paint a lot. Wally is funny.” Liam explains to his dad, who believes that this Wally is Warlock. Liam goes around giving nicknames to everyone. Mickey is Mickey Mouse. Nobody knows why Reuben is called Ben-Ben. Nat, Javy and Bob don’t have nicknames, their names are just that short. And then, there’s Rooster. Well, Woosta. Jake fell to the floor the first time Liam called Bradley like that.

“What about Dummy Boo? Was he funny?” Jake keeps talking to his son while observing the interaction between Red and Cyclone. He still gives him a weird feeling; there’s something behind his actions that doesn’t sit right with Jake.

Javy calls it jealousy, but it goes beyond that. It’s just weird.

Cyclone writes something on a piece of paper that he pushes across the desk until it sits in front of Red’s hand. She takes it with a smile on her face. What the fuck is going on?

Did Cycunt just give her his number?

Today, of all days, the day where he has decided to confess everything to Red, and maybe, even though Jake knows that this is hoping too much, that will lead to the two of them having another chance to be together.

This has to be a joke.

“Woosta!”

“My baby!” Bradley grabs Liam by the waist and lifts him up, making him giggle. It’s quite a sound that you don’t hear too often in a gym.

“Can you take care of him for a bit? I want to hit the bag.” You ask him, leaving Liam’s bag next to the two boys.

“Of course. We’re gonna play a bit with the football, right, buddy?” He tickles Liam, and you smile. You’re so lucky to have them.

“Thanks, Rooster.”

You get your things out of the bag that Jake has left in front of you and go change into more comfortable clothes. You’ve been boxing since the academy days; at first it was like a joke, not really thinking how much you would end up enjoying it. It eventually became a part of your daily routine. Hit the bag for a while to de-stress.

You turn back to the room, wrapping your hands with the red cotton wraps you always carry in your bag.

“Want help?” Jake stands behind the punching bag, his brows knitted together and his arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah, thanks.” He helps you, silently wrapping your hands and fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy.”

“Okay…”

He drops your hand once it is properly wrapped, then gets the gloves and assists you in slipping your hands into them. “Ready?”

You nod, moving your arms a bit, and throw a combination against the bag. It feels good.

You keep going for a bit, feeling Jake’s eyes on you. You know he wants to say something, but he's biting his tongue.

“Just say it, cowboy.”

“So... you and Cyclone.” He finally mutters through clenched teeth.

“What about me and Cyclone?”

“There’s something there?”

You stop punching the bag immediately. “What?”

“Every time we have to leave the kid outside daycare, he’s there. Every. Single. Time.”

You move around the bag, staring into his eyes. “Please, tell me you’re not trying to insinuate what you’re trying to insinuate.”

“What? That you two are together? Perhaps that's why he called you to lead the team?" His voice raises a level, making the others stop working out and look at the two of you.

You let out a dry laugh, watching from the corner of your eye as Nat walks closer to the two of you. “You really think I’m dating Cyclone?”

“That’s what it looks like, yes”

“And you think you have any right to comment on who I date or not?”

“So it’s right!”

You close your eyes for a second. “Rooster, can you take Liam out of here?”

“Come on, buddy. Let’s play outside” You wait until Rooster and Liam leave the gym to respond.

“Look, asshole. I’ve been waiting for a fucking month—no, scratch that. I’ve been waiting for three fucking years for you to come back and tell me what the fuck I’ve done wrong, why you left, and why I had to raise our kid alone.”

“Red, calm down,” Phoenix says, standing next to Jake.

“I won’t calm down. I’ve been here for a month. You’ve been in my house, every fucking night, and you have slept on the couch because you didn’t want to leave. I knew that you being part of Liam’s life meant that I’d have to see you all the time, even if I didn’t want to.” Your voice is starting to break; you pause for a second to breathe, but Jake takes it as his turn to speak.

“I think I’m entitled to know who the fuck enters my kid’s life.” Jake spits out.

“Jake, you asshole, you have literally been with me every day since I set foot on this base! We work together, we eat together, we go home together with Liam, you sleep there…”

“Your point?”

You're trembling, your eyes are wet, and your teeth are clenched. Why is he doing this? “Do you think I had time left to go see that man?”

“I don’t know, but he gave you a piece of paper with his number, didn’t he?” He steps closer to you. “Maybe even his address.”

“Jake, man. It’s time to stop” Reuben puts a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

“In case you forgot, you left me. Let me repeat it again, because maybe your brain doesn’t understand it. You left me.” You emphasize each word by pressing your glove against his chest. “You don’t have a fuck to say about my life. And no, I’m not seeing Cyclone.”

You turn around to leave, wanting to be the mature person in the room. But again, Jake being Jake, he needs to have the last word. “Then tell him to stay the fuck away from what’s mine”

“Oh shit,” Payback mutters when you come back to where they are.

You throw an uppercut to his stomach, making him fall to his knees. He grunts, breathlessly looking at you. You crouch down, resting your arms on your knees. “You don’t own me, Jake Seresin. Never forget that.”

He starts coughing when you enter the locker room.

"Red.”

“Oh my god, Jake. What now?” You are really close to throwing something at him.

“Please. I’m so-” He moves closer to you, the angriness in his face long gone. You can only see regret now.

“If you say you’re sorry after all the bullshit you just said in front of everyone, I will punch you again, this time without gloves.” You warn him, walking a few steps back. You don’t want him close to you. Your body will betray you, and you know it.

While you were out there screaming at each other, you felt a need to just grab him by the back of his neck and kiss him. He needs to remember that you married him three years ago and that you weren’t the one who asked for a divorce. He needs to know that you were and still are very much in love with him.

And even though you can understand the jealousy he must have felt and how it makes you do and say crazy things, it’s not an excuse.

“You wanna know what that piece of paper was?” You rummage through your bag, looking for that damned piece of paper, pressing it against his chest. “Read it.”

“Jane Simpson?” His brows furrow. That's not the name he was expecting to read.

“Cyclone’s daughter. She’s a sitter. Cyclone said that next time the daycare is closed, I could call her and ask her to take care of Liam.” You grab all your things while Jake registers this information, feeling like an absolute dick. Great, he deserves it. “Don’t fucking come to my house tonight.”

Jake spends the next five hours inside his car, arms and head resting on the steering wheel. How has he messed up so much? Today was the day. He was going to tell you the truth, and there wouldn't be any secrets left between them. Not anymore.

But fucking Jake Seresin had to open up his big mouth.

He grabs his phone, taking a deep breath before sending a text to Mav.

Ames and Mav are glad that you punched him. He really deserves it. He's been scolded by both of them for hours now.

"When you punched Rooster a while ago, I was glad," Ames explains, filling up Jake’s glass of water. "But now? I want to go and give her a round of applause."

"Yeah, yeah. I know I deserve it, don't remind me." Jake lets his head fall against the table. The two of them are sitting outside the bar, in one of the benches, Mav has gone inside to help Penny with the new customers. "I'm gonna need a miracle now. She won't forgive me."

"Let's remember that she still carries her wedding rings around." She points out, playing with Jake's hair.

"How did you find out?" Jake's voice comes out muffled.

"Red showed them to Nat, Penny saw them and sent us a text. I've been carefully trying to take a picture of them since she told me. And one day she fell asleep on the couch, Liam had been playing with them…"

"He likes shiny things," Jake mutters to himself, that sentence making so much sense now. He liked to play with his mom's dog tags because the rings were there.

"I just took a picture. But instead of making you understand that she's still pretty much in love with you, and faithfully waiting for you to come back, it had the opposite effect."

He lifts his head, realizing that he said all those stupid things literally one hour after Amelia sent him that photo. "I'm an asshole."

"Congrats, it took you only…" She checks her phone. "Shit, it's almost midnight."

"Already?" Jake grabs his phone from his pocket. It had been silent all day.

He gets up from the bench in a swift motion, the glass of water falling over the table. "Jake, what the fuck?"

He unlocks the phone and calls you, his whole body frozen in pure terror.

Not his kid.

Everything but him.

"Red?" He can hear Liam crying. It breaks his heart into a million pieces.

"Oh my god Jake, thank God. Liam has a high fever, and the fucking car isn't working, and…” You're trying to calm Liam, but he can hear you crying. You must be so scared. Jake grabs his car keys and runs to his car for the second time in one month.

Jake knows he has to be the big person now. He needs to keep his cool and not fuck this up. His son needs him. "Hey, hey. Honey, listen to me, okay? I'm at the Hard Deck. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be with you. I'm gonna call Bob and check if his wife is working tonight."

"Shhh, Liam. I know it hurts, but we're gonna make it stop, okay? Dada's coming." You choke on your words, and he doesn't want to end the call, but he needs to. He needs to call Bob.

"I'm gonna hang now. I'll be there soon."

"Hurry, please."

You hang up, and he scrolls down his recent calls to look for Bob.

"Man, I don't want to talk to you right now." Bob quickly says, angry at Jake’s behavior.

"Bob, please. Liam’s sick. Is Doc working?"

"Yes, she is. Take him to the hospital; I'll call her."

"Thanks, Bob. We'll be there soon."

"I hope it's nothing."

Jake hangs up the phone for the second time in minutes and drives like a madman. He can hear Liam's heartbreaking cries in his head. He must be hurting. It could be literally anything. Reuben told him that children get sick often; it's part of their life. But this is his first time going through this.

When he drove like this last month because you were sick, he felt scared. This is ten times worse. A kid is sick. He's a baby; he doesn't know how to explain things. If he's hurting, he won't say it; he's only going to cry and hope that it goes away.

And the only thing his parents can do is take him to the ER and hope for the best.

Once he gets to your home, he sees you. You're wearing the same clothes you had in the gym, and it makes it look like it has only been a few hours since the last time he saw you. The tiredness on your face, however, makes it feel like an eternity.

“Get in.” He opens the passenger door from the inside, and you run to get inside the car, tears staining your face. Liam keeps crying, his face is red and wet, and when he sees his dad, he makes grabby hands in his direction and calls for him between cries. “Dada needs to drive, bubs. We’re gonna take you to see Doc, okay? You remember Doc?”

Jake turns the engine on and drives to the hospital. “Is she working?” You ask loudly, trying to make yourself heard over Liam’s cries.

“Yeah, she’s waiting for us.”

“Thank god.”

Once you get to the ER, you see Doc waiting for you, her hand resting on her small baby bump. “There you are.”

“Aren’t you gonna get into trouble for this?”

“Pediatrics is empty. Follow me.”

Doc leads you to one of the children’s rooms in the ER. You try to leave Liam in bed, but he doesn’t want to let go of you. Jake hands him a plushie, and Liam’s attention is diverted long enough for Doc to check his temperature. “Has he been eating well lately?”

“Warlock told me that Liam didn’t eat all his morning snacks, and he didn’t want to eat dinner early.” You explain, playing with your fingers. Jake takes your hand between his, squeezing it tightly.

“It’s okay, relax.” He whispers, and you nod.

“Has he been angry or distracted?” Doc is now looking at Liam’s ears.

“Not really.”

“Has he been rubbing his ear?”

You think for a moment. “Yeah. He’s been doing that all afternoon.”

She nods and grabs her tablet, writing down everything. “It’s just an ear infection. He rubs his ear, hoping to get rid of the pain.”

Jake and you both sigh with relief. Ear infections are very common. “You must think I’m an idiot for not noticing and overreacting like this.”

Doc smiles and hugs Red. “You did what you had to do. Your kid was in pain, and you didn’t know what to do, so you went to the doctor. That’s what good parents do.”

“Thank you, Doc.” Jake says when she turns to hug him.

“Any time. I’m gonna get some painkillers for him. Wait here. You’ll be able to leave in a minute.” She leaves you alone, Liam more calm now that he has a new toy to play with, but silent tears still run down his face.

“I’m sorry you had to run to my house for an ear infection.” You mutter under your breath, your gaze fixed on Liam's hair.

“I should be the one apologizing here, sweets. I was supposed to be there with you.” Jake’s thumb caresses your knuckles; the action melts you inside. You’ve missed him so much. Being close to him Touching him. Feeling him.

“You’re cute, but you’re not cute when you’re jealous.” You say, somehow make him chuckle.

He lifts his eyes and locks them with yours in an honest, poignant stare. “You’re the only thing I have left, Red. You and Liam. I was so scared to lose you both. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jake…”

Doc enters the room, medicine in hand. “Okay, buddy, I’m gonna give you this, and once you get home, you’re gonna feel so much better.” She pushes the oral syringe into Liam’s mouth, who takes the medicine like a good boy. “That’s it. Here’s the name of the medicine I just gave him.”

You look at the paper. “Yeah, I have this one at home.”

“Perfect then. It’s gonna kick in very soon. He will fall asleep soon, too. His body is really tired from all the crying.” Doc kisses Liam’s head. “I hope to see you soon under much better circumstances.”

“Thank you so much, Doc. You’re the best.” Jake hugs her again and takes Liam.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll call Bob and tell him it’s nothing, okay? Go home and rest. You both look like you need it.” She gives you a sympathetic smile and accompanies you to the door, waving to a sleepy Liam, who is now resting in his dad’s arms.

“I think he’s gonna fall asleep.” Jake whispers, and you look at him. Yeah, he has that tired look in his eyes.

“I’ll drive.”

He frowns. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll drive.”

“He’s asleep.” You whisper, sitting next to Jake on the sofa. The room is dark, with the only source of light coming from the streetlight on the other side of the street.

Jake’s head rests against the back of the sofa. “You should go to sleep, too. I’ll stay here in case he wakes up.”

You shake your head and start crying. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Hey, hey,” He takes your face between his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I called you crying like a crazy woman, and all that happened was that Liam had an ear infection.”

Jake shushes you and hugs you tightly. “No, that’s not what happened. A good mom called the not-so-good dad and asked for help when their kid wasn’t feeling good.”

“You’re a good dad, Jake.” You state, not leaving room for doubts. He is a good dad, and he needs to know that.

“But I’m not a good man.” He retorts, separating himself from your body, even if that’s exactly the opposite of what he wants to do.

You sigh, leaning against the sofa. “Jake, you said some stupid things. And you apologized. I can’t imagine how you must have felt when you suddenly encountered yourself as part of a family, and then your brain tells you that some prick is trying to steal them away from you.”

Jake snorts. “You called Cyclone a prick?”

“Cycunt suits him better.” You smirk, and Jake swears he could kiss you. “Look, I know he was flirting with me, but I thought that if I didn’t say anything, he would stop.”

“Nah, it doesn’t work that way. Men are idiots. Ignore us, and we’ll think that you’re trying to play hard to get. Say no, and we’ll think you’re saying yes. Be completely obvious, and we’ll think that you’re not interested at all.”

“And you say that women are difficult.”

“That’s why you’re the ones giving birth, sweets. You’re better than us in every single aspect.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. “You’re not a bad man, Jake. The only bad thing you’ve done is easy to fix.”

Jake looks at his hands for a second, deep in thought. “I’m gonna need something strong.”

“Tequila? Mickey gave me a bottle.”

“Tequila works.”

You get up and go to the kitchen, coming back in an instant with two glasses and the bottle. Jake grabs the bottle and fills the glasses, clinking them before downing it in one shot.

“Okay. You want the truth? Here’s the truth.”

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henriiiii-1001old · 1 year

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tmc fairy tale au!!!

SO this is actually a concept i had a few months ago that i never rly expanded upon.

first, let me explain the basics:

i assigned different tmc characters to different fairy tales, but they all exist in the same universe.

Adam - Rapunzel Evelin - Snow White/Flynn Rider Jonah - Little Mermaid Sarah - Gretel/Daughter from The Juniper Tree Mark - Hansel/Stepson from The Juniper Tree Cesar - Frog Prince Thatcher - Lumberjack guy from Red Riding Hood Ruth - Red Riding Hood Dave - Father from The Juniper Tree Six - Gothel Gabriel - Stepmother from The Juniper Tree Preacher - The Sea Witch Stanley - The Candy Witch Alt!Thatch - Big Bad Wolf

next, some art i made for the au!!!

and now, huge lore dump! >:)c its gonna be long so buckle your seatbelts LMAO

so, the main plot of this au is basically that adam has been stuck in a tower in the middle of nowhere for almost 21 years. he had been raised by six, who is actually a witch set on taking over the kingdoms that surround the nearby areas (aka the counties). one day, six it out doing stuff, and while he's gone prince evelin (yes she's a prince bc fuck it) ends up finding the tower. she decides to climb it out of curiosity.

she ends up in a standoff against adam, but to try to deescalate things, they introduce themselves to each other. all of a sudden before they could talk more, adam hears six coming back and hides evelin in a nearby closet. evelin sees adam and six get into a fight abt adam wanting to go out into the world for once, but six is all "you're not ready" and it just gets really bad. all until six lovebombs adam and leaves again to get something for adam's upcoming 21st birthday.

evelin had exited the closet as six left, and she's like "you let him do that to you?" adam is like "uh yeah? he always does? i dont see them problem" and evie starts making adam question everything. she promises to take adam into the world but return him by night in case six came back. they'd also stay near the tower just in case as well.

cut to jonah's pov! he's a simple merman wanting to be a part of the human world! he sees evie and adam having a lot of fun and wishes he could join them. his dad (yes, if jonah is the little mermaid, the fucking mervin marshall is the king by proxy DCFVGBHNJ) is all like "nuh uh too dangerous, especially with most of the witches residing on land anyway" and jonah is like "FUCKING BET!"

he goes to the sea witch, preacher, and asks for legs and talks about seeing adam and evie hanging out! and preacher is like "im sorry WHO????" bc she knows that adam shouldnt be out and about. she makes jonah promise that as part of the deal, he must return adam to six in three days time, otherwise he'll turn back into a merman. he quickly agrees, and the whole deal is made. preacher does go tell six about this, and while he freaks out at first, preacher is like "it's ok dude i got this. i got a client to promise to return him home as part of our deal. you're fine m'dude."

jonah ends up on land and tries teaching himself how to talk while finding a cloth to barely dress himself with. adam and evie do eventually see him and they're like "yo who tf are you?" and while jonah cant talk, they do find a way to write to each other and they become friends!!!!

they do also eventually meet sarah at some point, and oh b o y does she have a backstory.

SO, in order to explain her backstory, let me explain the story of "the juniper tree" (copy pasted from discord LMAO)

"so a mother is peeling apples under a juniper tree and accidentally cuts her finger. the blood drips onto the snow on the ground, and that (somehow) grants the woman's wish to have a child as white as snow and as red as blood. she dies after giving birth to her perfect child, and the father soon remarries, having a daughter of her own.

she loved her daughter but hated her stepson and abused him every day and is all "i want my daughter to inherit your father's money." she then leads her children to a chest of apples one day. she lets her daughter pick an apple from the chest, but when her stepson came to pick one, she slammed the chest on his head and decapitated him.

she then set it up to where the same thing would happen again but the daughter would be there to witness it all, and her mother would gaslight her into thinking that she murdered her own brother. she then literally turned her stepson into soup and fed him to her husband. the daughter was so grossed out and distraught the entire time, but she couldn't rat her mother out. she ended up burying her brother's bones under the juniper tree.

then, he reincarnated as a bird and sung a song to some townspeople to convince them to help him get revenge on his stepmother. he gathered a golden chain for his father, red shoes for his sister, and a millstone to crush his stepmother. he reveals himself to his family and they live happily ever after."

here's the changes i made to the original story:

instead of just the mother dying, both of mark and sarah's prents die, and now they are in the sole custody of dave

instead of having the caretaker marry someone, dave asks his friend "o'brien" to help raise mark and sarah

instead of the stepmother dying, it is revealed that o'brien was actually the great mage gabriel trying to steal something important to their plans that dave just so happens to have

and thats it CFVGBHNJM. gabriel does try and come back every once in a while to coax gabe into either letting them come back or trying to make dave give himself up for sarah's sake.

cesar's story is also p cool imo! he is the prince of bythorne and evelin's cousin! they got along great when evelin was younger, but that stopped once cesar disappeared.

this was caused by him saving mark and sarah from the candy witch, stanley, who had lured them in to specifically kill mark. cesar saw what was going on and saved the two of them before it was too late.

later that night, stanley decided to be a petty bitch and curse cesar into being a frog so he wouldn't be able to save anyone else from her or her sisters' (in which six is her like. brother but i'll explain why later LMAO) plans. cesar hid in the shadows of mandela kingdom's palace for years since then.

since cesar's disappearance, evelin had wanted to take the role of prince to honor him. she also used it as a way to not have to be trapped inside the palace walls and coddled. she ended up still feeling stuck anyway, which led to her sneaking out to travel through the woods, which ofc led her one day to find adam's tower.

at some point (if anything this would be after evie and adam meet and stuff), evelin finds cesar in his frog form on the windowsill of the guest room he would regularly stay in whenever he would come to mandela to visit. he finds that she isnt revolted by his new appearance and is actually willing to help him out!

he explains that he learned that most curses can be cured by "true love's kiss", which in storybooks was always seen as romantic. he had always viewed evelin like a little sister, so he felt that he was hopeless.

that was until evelin thought of a loophole, since the stories never explicitly said that it was romantic, she would try to break the curse purely through the love she has for him as her cousin. she kisses the top of cesar's head, and cesar has returned to his human form!!!

...well, somewhat. the curse had altered his human form due to it not being broken for years on end, so cesar came back deformed. his limbs were too long and half of his face was always covered by a dark shadow. cesar did freak out about this, but evelin assured him that he'll always be her cesar, no matter what he looked like.

evelin and cesar explained the situation and cesar was finally returned to bythorne. he did write a letter a bit after wards telling her that he has resigned from his princely duties to become a princess! maybe it would help him not have to struggle with the expectations of needing to be brave and bold, and it would be a thank you to evelin for taking his role as a prince!!!

speaking of evelin, let's go back to her for a minute. so, i had also put her as snow white, but we haven't really seen her fulfill that role yet. weeelllll...

at some point in the story, six finds evelin alone in the forest and offers her to take a bite of an apple in exchange for knowledge about adam and his past. the thing is, evelin HATES fruit so she's like "ewww do i have tooo" and six is like "if you really wanna know, then you gotta."

evelin agrees and bites into the apple. it tastes so fucking gross, but she feels like she was to swallow it to finish her end of the deal. once she swallows, the pieces suddenly cling onto her throat, choking her in the process. as she struggles to breathe, six begins to tell her who adam truly is.

adam is a regular boy who six took as part of a deal made by his parents. lynn had been getting pregnancy cravings and wanting the rapunzel frm the neighbor's garden. she made jude retrieve them for her, but it wasn't enough. eventually, jude got caught by six and agreed to give up their firstborn child in exchange to continue taking the flowers.

once adam was born, lynn and jude were killed by six, and he took adam away to raise him as his prodigy. as a catalyst for the witches' plans.

as six is explaining all of this to evelin, she is trying her hardest to take him down with her. fuck the info he's giving her, he tricked her, and now he has to pay. she swings with all her might but falls in vain. her vision goes black as six walks away from her dying body...

there's probably a "mother knows best reprise" moment here and six is all like "oh you might wanna go save your friend if you care about her so much" and adam freaks tf out. she's desperately trying to think of something to help evelin.

eventually, the group remember's cesar's story with "true love's kiss" and they're like "fuck it let's try that". adam, while literally sobbing, plants a small kiss on her forehead and prays for her to wake up.

while this is all happening, evelin ets visited by mark's spirit. he basically hypes her up and is like "you got this girlie!!!" and she wakes up after adam plants his kiss on her. she starts to choke again, but adam helps her with it and heimlichs the apple out of her throat. she's finally able to breathe, and the group celebrates.

however, the happy moment doesn't last for too long. jonah does eventually return adam to six behind evelin and sarah's backs, but afterward he feels so guilty for it. they literally sacrificed one of the first human friends he's ever made for legs. how stupid is that? they eventually go to sarah and evelin and they quickly figured out what happened. while evelin goes to the tower to save adam (with help from a certain spirit), sarah and jonah confront preacher.

there is gonna be a plot abt preacher almost taking over the seas, but jonah and sarah do eventually take her down and retrieve jonah's voice. and yes, sarah gets to see that jonah is a merman and she's actually like "YO WAIT YOU GUYS ARE REAL???" and jonah is like "UH YEAH?????"

and yes, adam does eventually escape as well, but i dont have those details either so ye :')

that's the main plot at least! i do have a subplot for thatcher's pov tho! more copy paste from discord

"thatcher and ruth are friends and live nearby each other. ruth usually helps out w raising mark and sarah, though mark by this point is dead so dave DEFINITELY needs help. he and sarah havent been taking his death well, especially since dave literally ate mark’s remains without knowing. and sarah feels guilty enough for being gaslit into believing that she killed mark.

so ruth is about to go to dave’s place and has to walk through the forest to get there. she eventually meets what seems to be a very friendly wolf. she is a little weirded out by it, but she eventually tells it how dave lost mark and that she’s helping out! and the wolf is like “oh thats cool! i wish you luck on your journey. though i must say, these flowers smell beautiful! maybe you should pick some and take them to your dear friend!” and as ruth collects flowers as the wolf suggested, it found thatcher nearby and took his appearance to take a visit to a particular dave lee." ...

"she gets to dave's place who has been escorted out by the wolf/alt thatcher, right? so he's like "dear friend, why don't you rest! you've spent all day walking here, and you should be able to rest" aaaaand he tries to turn her into a werewolf but then thatcher comes in and is like "AYO TF YOU DOING TO MY BESTIE????" and he and the wolf fight. thatcher ends up getting bitten but is able to ward him off with his axe that was laced with silver just in case. so ruth is saved, but overtime thatcher feels more pain surge throughout his body and just kinda. turns one night.

unfortunately, he ends up killing ruth. alt thatcher tries to take this as an opportunity to maybe make him join the witches, but thatcher ofc refuses and makes a break towards dave's house. thatcher ends up telling dave what happened, and dave is okay with helping him hide it as well as hiding his newfound lycanthropy

sarah overhears this convo and becomes EXTREMELY angry at thatcher bc ruth was helping dave raise her after mark died. she was basically the mother figure sarah had always wanted, and thatcher took that away from her."

that's it for plot!!! now for some witch shenanigans >:)

so the witches are basically all the alts who usually practice shapeshifting magic to like. deceive others and all that jazz. ive made it a running joke that six is technically the only guy there FVGBHNJ

like, stanley is fem, preacher is female, alt!thatcher is copying thatcher who is transfem in this au, and gabriel dresses fem. six (and by proxy adam) is literally the only guy there DCFVGBHNJ

i am. running out of energy but i think that's everything for rn. hope you enjoy this au though!!!! ive put a lot into it <33333

#mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue #evidence reel #tmc fairy tale au #long post #dont think i'll have enough tags for characters but i dont mind LMAO #implied abuse trigger #face horror trigger #body horror trigger #eye contact #a2t

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blackbird-brewster · 2 years

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Hey Kit, hope you'll get better soon. Covid sucks. I love criminal minds is back. I love that they finally made a queer coded person act out her queerness, especially with Nicole pacent. I love her. And the height difference! Hope they'll get a lot of good Screentime. But they've introduced her, so I think she'll be abducted or something. What do you think Rebecca's role will be? Would love to hear your theories (and see who came closest to predicting it right it wrong)

Thank you for the kind wishes. Covid is kicking my ass rn and yeah, it sucks!!! It's still wild to me that CM is *back* when a) they only ended 2 years ago b) I have been here so long and every year leading up to the series being cancelled I begged the universe to let me finally BE FREE. Oh well, guess I'm here forever now. TARA LEWIS IS QUEER!!!! It still feels SURREAL to get to say that. My fave character is QUEER. We have a 50 year old QUEER BLACK WOMAN and I am sooooo emotional about it. I probably remind my partner that Tara is queer at least once an hour. I'm familiar with Nicole Pacent but literally when that one article dropped a few days before the show that said she was joining the cast, I said ['Is this going to be Tara's girlfriend!?']. I'm so glad I was right bc she's absolutely stunning! Even though we've seen approximately 2 minutes of Rebecca so far, I LOVE HER and I am ready to fight anyone who comes after her. I 100% agree that they're going to hurt her though. Bc CM loves hurting MCs love interests (Hayley, Strauss, Krystall, Maeve....) I feel like she's going to get abducted or something and I STG if they kill her!?!?!? If they introduce our FIRST queer character in SEVENTEEN FUCKING YEARS just to kill her girlfriend???? I will absolutely bow out of this show. I think Rebecca will be pretty pivotal though, bc clearly she has the inside info on that littler twerp who's being a pain in the ass to Prentiss (I don't know his name bc I do not care about white men). My MAIN concern is this: I think they gave us a queer relationship (LOVE IT) but we're going to get an EXTRMELY sanitised version of their relationship. I would NOT be surprised if we don't even get a Tebecca kiss on-screen. Me and @gaelic-symphony were talking about this and basically we theorise that we'll get the 'CBS primetime' version of Tara/Rebecca while getting the 'Streaming and raunchy' version of het relationships like Will/JJ Which I fucking hate, of course. But I truly think that's what's going to happen. Like we had to suffer through that nasty Will/JJ scene where they got handsy in the kitchen (*GAG* I had to fast forward through all Will scenes tbrh) and then the quip by Emily about 'everyone getting laid'. Gross. I just want to see Tara being soft and in love and HAPPY. TARA LEWIS DESERVES HAPPINESS!!!! I DO love that they not only gave her an on-screen gf BUT they also clarified that she's dated women before!!! I think that's really rare to see when canon confirms an MC as queer. Usually it's like 'Oh yeah, I'm dating a woman. But it's weird, I've never done this before' which is a show's way of saying 'They're dating a woman but they're not necessarily queer......' (Does that make sense??) So it's EXTREMELY important to me that Tara was like 'I've always been interested in women' so so so refreshing and incredible. I 100% believe the ONLY reason we have queer Tara Lewis is because AISHA would have been the one to push for it. I truly think SHE was probably the driving force of saying 'We're streaming. I want Tara to have a gf and be canonically confirmed as queer' [Which is one of the reasons I believe Emily wasn't the one to be queer confirmed. Bc I don't really see Paget pushing for something like that. I have so many reasons and theories why it WASN'T Emily, but I digress....] It was also obvious Emily already knew Rebecca, so I wanna know the background there! And Emily's 'You know we're going to give you shit about this' (I hate that for many reasons) but I wanna see Luke teasing Tara about being in love (not teasing bc she's in love with a WOMAN, just bc she's in love and he thinks it's cute when Tara lets her guard down) All in all, I don't even care about the plots introduced so far. But I WILL continue watching simply because Tara and Rebecca are cute af and I want to see more of them

#criminal minds #tara lewis #rebecca wilson #tebecca #cm evolution #cm spoilers #cm meta #lovingautumn #reply post

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golbrocklovely · 1 year

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I think Sam isn’t that serious with Kat. I’ve said this from the beginning, something seems off. I could be wrong of course. But the fact they have been together for so long, and he still doesn’t want to settle down with her? Which is fine if he’s not ready to settle down, but I feel bad for Kat cause you can tell she does. I think it says a lot about someone’s relationship if they’ve been together for awhile, and they aren’t even close to being engaged. I think it says a lot for Kat to trick (for example) stas and Colby just to get some alone with him Sam. I understand Sam is busy, but if you truly care about someone and loved them, you would make time.

I could be completely wrong and I hope I am, but something has seemed off. I think Kat is gonna get tired of it eventually. Or they’ll both settle for each other, which is really fucking sad.

i can see you're point, but i don't fully agree.

while i do understand wondering if they haven't gotten married/engaged by now there must be something wrong, but i don't think it's that black and white.

i do think sam is serious about kat, but i think he's just not ready to settle down yet. and kat has also said she's not planning on getting married anytime soon, so it's not a complete one sided thing.

i think sam sees marriage as the final nail in the coffin to his youth. and bc of that, i think that's why he constantly says things like "i'm not getting married until i'm 40". he sees marriage as a time to stop moving, to stop constantly going and working, and that is something that sam doesn't want to give up yet. and honestly, it's probably for the best. bc if he got married before he was ready to, it wouldn't end well. and that also goes for kat.

if they only plan to get married bc "we've already been together for so long, we might as well" than it ain't gonna work out. there is way more to marriage than just living together in a house. there's a lot that goes into it.

and in the circumstances of kat "tricking" stas and colby to pair up so that she could get alone time with sam, idk if it was like that fully. i think part of her was doing it bc she knew stas liked colby and wanted them to get together for that reason alone. and it was just an added bonus that while doing so, she also got to be alone with sam.

her and sam get to hang out a lot more often than we know. besides the fact they live together, there are probably plenty of times they are together that they don't post about.

but i do agree with you on one point; i don't want them settling for one another either. but i don't think it will get to that point. i have faith in them that things will work out for them. whether that means being together forever or not is a different story. but i do wish them the best regardless !

#ask #personal

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1d1195 · 5 months

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brothers are a whole other thing LMAO they’re crazy. they will literally call you the stupidest person they’ve met in their life but then buy u ur favorite ice cream at 2AM.

i always tell my sister that i’m so grateful i had her to help me grow up and that i get so sad when i realize she never had an older sister. her response is always that she never thought of it like that but she thinks she was made to be an older sister. i swear you guys are built different, not everyone can handle being an older sister and i have SO much appreciation for u all !!!

i promise you that your mom is 100% right. she probably ADORES you but just doesn’t wanna admit it bc youngest sibling pride yk ?😭 i refuse to believe otherwise bc i sincerely feel like you’re PERFECT sister material. dependent, funny, mature, so sooo kind.

new songs on rotation !! i’ve rlly been enjoying What I Am by zayn and Tejano Blue by cigarettes after sex

i hope you know all i can think about is Ding part 3 :) like omg it’s just been on my mind 24/7 and i can’t wait to read whatever you have. idk if you have this planned out yet, or not, but how many parts do you see this series being ??

I DID SLEEP HAHA i’ve been feeling off these past few days and i woke up SICK today🙁 it’s not too bad just a sore throat and a runny nose but i do hope it goes away soon because i have a friend’s engagement party to attend on the weekend (but im literally drinking a cold diet dr. pepper rn so i have no clue how i expect to feel better lol)

have the best day ever sam !!!

~🎶

That's so sweet about brothers 😭 I could have used that too growing up!

My sister and I sound WAY less mushy than you and your sister (no shade, just different relationships obviously) but that's so sweet! I can totally see where she's coming from I don't think I could be a younger sister. The vibe would be so off and you'd be able to tell I was not meant to be a younger sister hahahahahaha YOU'RE SO SWEET 😭😭 my sister calls me every day (even when I don't want her to because I have been girl-rotting all week on my vacation and have nothing to report) so I get annoyed with her pretty easily but I do enjoy talking to her. I wish she would put a little more effort into idk taking care of our parents? I don't live at home anymore so I feel like I'm still doing all the grunt kind of work that she could just do because she's AT HOME? but idk. she's a Drama Queen™ or maybe I am and I'm just being bossy 😂

I am putting the final touches on Ding part 3 so it's ready to go for Monday hehehehe I'm really excited about it! I think it will be my favorite part honestly. At least right now. I have it outlined for 7 parts right now! (I think i told someone 8 at one point but I did it in roman numerals and I'm dumb and can't read). But 7 is what I have right now. However it could change because I think parts 4 and 5 could end up being one part. I'm really not sure. Part of my outline for part 5 literally says "filler episode" so it's meant to be a next to nothing update.

UGH! I'm not sure where you're from but I live in New England and it's starting to be spring around here and I usually get a allergy-attack-turned-cold around now and I'm dreading it because it's SO unfair to be sick during the warmer weather. Maybe mix in some water with your Dr. Pepper hahahah Also! I truly believe cranberry juice has medicinal values. OOH I haven't listened to too much Zayn, tragic on my own part. I've heard clips of his new song Alienated though and I'm loving it! I've never heard of Tejano Blue, I will give that a listen as well!

I just made my Spring 2024 playlist--it's a lot of old stuff I've listened to in the past (don't listen to the Stuck on the Floor song I have at the bottom--it's for sad-girl hours hahahaha)

Hope you feel better!

xoxo

#🎶

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

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.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

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hyunsuks-beanie · 3 years

Text

Cute Guys with Pink Hair

Sunoo x gn! reader; just a fluffy make-out with some very Sunoo-like crack; 1.2k words (this got longer than I had expected lmao)

Mellow speaks: Here you go lovely anon! A fluffy Sunoo make-out just like you had requested. It was super fun to write, mainly because I loved imagining Sunoo's reaction to stuff bc he's such a meme lmao. I hope you enjoy reading it! And as always, asks and requests are open, so shoot away any requests/suggestions you have!

"Y/N come onnnnn! I'm giving you five seconds. If you're not here by then, I'm starting the movie," Sunoo calls out, and you can practically hear the pout on his face as he waits for you on the couch. Saturday nights are your favorite time of the week, because your boyfriend and you have a ritual of watching movies together every weekend, something you do without fail. And today is no different, with you getting the snacks ready, and Sunoo downloading the worst movies of all time, so that the two of you can make fun of them while cuddling and binging on your favorite food. Yes, you are weird that way, but as your boyfriend says, "Where's the charm in being normal?"

"Instead of yelling out orders from the couch, why don't you come help me carry some of the snacks out, huh?," you reply, rolling your eyes. Soon enough, Sunoo is by your side, a soft giggle escaping his lips as you hand him a few bags of chips and cookies, ruffling his hair. Picking up the rest of the goodies, you walk back into the living room, plopping down onto the couch as he presses "Play." The first few minutes of the movie go by in a blur, as you try to get into a position that's both comfortable and cozy. Throwing your legs over Sunoo's, you wiggle closer to him as he pulls your head on his chest, his arms resting near the small of your back.

"Oh my god, how can she be that stupid? That's not a ghost that's her mom in a bathrobe what the hell?," you snicker out midway through the second movie, as Sunoo pops a Hershey's Kiss into your mouth. "I know right? I can't wait for her to die," he replies, making your hand, which was on its way to grabbing a pack of Cheetos, stop halfway, retreating to smack him on the shoulder. "Hey!," he pouts, making you giggle as you grab some popcorn from the bowl. "You can't just wish for someone to die like that, you meanie," you say, giving your boyfriend a look that tell him that you want nothing more than to watch the stupid excuse of a girl die too. By the time the movie ends, you are practically on Sunoo's lap, your head snuggled between his shoulder and chest, as he rakes his hand through your hair. "Your hair feels really nice today," he says, placing a kiss to the top of your head as you hum in response.

The next movie you decide on turns out to be a weird parody on some rom-com, and you can't help the soft giggles escaping your lips as you witness the characters' failed attempts at romance. All of a sudden, Sunoo's attention is drawn away from the movie when he feels his hand being swatted away as he reaches out to grab a handful of chips from the bag you're holding. He looks down, his signature pout back on his face, as you look up at him mischievously. "The last ones are mine," you whisper, causing him to whine as he attempts to grab the pack away from you. "Y/N, that's not fair. Lemme have some!," he fake cries, making you finally take pity on him. You pick up a couple of chips from what remains in the pack, making his eyes crinkle up and the smile that you love so much, grace his lips. Just as your hand goes up to feed them to him, your attention is caught by a moan coming from the TV.

Turning back towards the screen, you feel Sunoo's chest rise and fall heavily, as he gulps while taking in the scene in front of him. The characters have somehow managed to make things work, and are now making out in the office. Scrunching your nose, you decide to turn the TV off, causing Sunoo to blink as if he's coming out of a trance. "I didn't like the characters, and that scene was just....not right," you say, shuddering as you think back upon it. "O-oh, uhmm, y-yeah. Good call, Y/N," he chokes out, still unsettled about the scene. Looking up at him, you notice his confused expression, and ask, "Babe, you okay?," making him finally smile down at you, as he comes back to his normal self. "Yeah, I'm fine. The scene was just too gross considering how annoying the characters were," he laughs, and you can't help but join in. "I mean, who'd want to kiss that handsome jerk of a man?," he explains, causing you to throw your head back in laughter. "Beats me. Even more so since I personally am into cuter guys, preferably those with pink hair," you say, a mischievous glint visible in your eyes.

At your words, he suddenly stops laughing, looking at you with a soft smile playing at his lips. The both of you lean in without noticing, realizing just how close you are only when your lips are inches away. "Cute guys with pink hair," you whisper, closing the distance and placing a soft kiss onto Sunoo's lips, one that he reciprocated with equal warmth. It's as if the surroundings fade away, leaving only the two of you, in each other's embrace. You turn around to face him fully, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, as his own hands cup your cheeks, before moving down your shoulders and coming to rest around your waist.

A few seconds into the kiss Sunoo softly licks your bottom lip, making you crack a smile before slightly deepening the kiss. The move catches him off-guard, causing him to let out a soft gasp into the kiss, your fingers making their way into his hair. You tug onto his hair softly, making him melt into your touch. A few minutes later, just as he places his hand back on your cheek, you pull away suddenly, playfully turning your head to the side when he tries to pull you back in. Hearing him whine at the loss of contact, you can't help the string of giggles that escapes your lips as you smile at him, leaning in closer again.

Sunoo doesn't wase a single moment in catching your lips in another kiss, this one even softer than the previous one. A contented sigh escapes his lips, which curl up into a smile when he feels you return the kiss, throwing your legs around either side of his lap. You stay like that for what feels like hours, just soaking up each other's presence. Trying to get cozier, Sunoo leans back into the couch, causing his hand to land on the remote, and switching the TV on again. Hearing the characters in the movie break into a sappy theme song, you reluctantly break away from the kiss. Pulling away, the both of you let out a groan at how bad the movie is, breaking into peals of laughter when your eyes meet.

"Shall we ditch these stupid movies and just go cuddle in bed?," Sunoo says, making you smile and nod your head in excitement. "Lead the way, my pink-haired cutie," comes your reply.

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rekas-writes · 2 years

Note

Give us something for gender euphoria? For pride month? 👉👈 characters of course of your choosing

A/N: More than happy to oblige~! Thank you for the ask, big sibling ^^ Went with Neon from Val bc she’s such a huge comfort to me ngl-

This also leaned more into the coming out prompt than I intended, whoops ^^; I came up with a different sorta plot but didn't want to scrap this either so I might post both-

Also I’m so sorry for the slight hiatus! I’ve been caught up playing R6 Extraction/Valorant ^^; I also wanted to just have a small break to refresh myself and keep my writing tip top for you guys! I’ve been feeling kind of out of it lately haha

✧☕✧ Thank you for ordering, please do visit again soon~! ✧🍮✧

Be Unafraid to Be You

Pair: Platonic! Neon/ FtM! Reader

Type: One-Shot - 1139 words

Genre: Fluff

Inspiration/Prompt: Pride Prompts #29 - Gender Euphoria

Summary: Following your coming out, you feel so free and happy to be yourself. In your reverie, you recollect how ecstatic your best friend Neon was and the celebratory feast she took you out for. What says I love you more than food, after all.

TW: None

✦ ▬▰▬ ▬▰▬ ★✦★ ▬▰▬ ▬▰▬ ✦

In all honesty, Neon was your rock. The person you ran to when you felt scared. The person you sought whenever you needed a second opinion. The person who motivated you and encouraged you as you faced yourself and spoke your truth to the base. She’s your best friend, your hype-man and your inspiration all in one. None could really defy your bond, from teammates to enemies. You were a force to be reckoned with together.

You’d never felt better as you finally embraced and donned the identity of the man you were meant to be, and it was all because of her. Her unwavering loyalty and never-ending support of you as who you truly are. She was the first person you confided in, of course she was. She was and still is your best friend and you needed her support then more than ever. As you wrung your hands in front of you nervously, she had simply raised an eyebrow, her tone light-hearted in an attempt to calm you down,

“Hoy, bes, (Hey, best friend,*) what’s wrong? Overheard something about Viper you shouldn’t have? C’mon, kumusta ka na? (What’s up?*)” She had a gentle smile on her face despite the joking tone in her voice. She’d gotten increasingly worried, a fact she confided in you afterward with a laugh, but trusted you would tell her what’s wrong when you were ready,

“Tala I…” you started with a waver, but steel yourself. She gave you an attentive, patient nod as she waited for you to continue. She let you take your time, to find your words and sort your feelings enough to speak without a wobble. In the end, the coming out, albeit maybe clumsy, is sweet and heartfelt. Neon holds nothing but admiration for you as she asks for your new name. You swear the first time she refers to you as Y/N, you almost cried. She’s rather thorough in her research, mildly nervous as she tiptoes around asking Sage about the subject- not wanting to carelessly spill what you had so carefully confided.

From trips to the mall for any new clothes you wished for, to new haircuts to fit any newfound sense of style or contouring to help you feel more confident, to gifting you a good quality binder just in case, out of worry you may be hurting yourself. She’s always looking out for you on all fronts. Gods forbid someone tries to hurt you because of your identity. In passing conversation, you admit you were slightly scared that she would end your friendship. She’s wide-eyed at the presumption- shaking her head,

“Why be friends with someone if you’re not gonna like them as who they really are. Sounds kinda stupid in my opinion,” were her only words of wisdom on the topic, a shared laugh following.

And now you were here living your best life on base, and you’ve never felt happier. You were free to express yourself how you wished, gaining confidence and security from both friends and you just feeling great in general from this newfound freedom. From Phoenix jokingly finger-gunning you with a “Looking good, handsome!” to the loud, mildly overwhelming support from Raze as she offered to set off some fireworks (and maybe a few other not-OSHA-approved explosives) to celebrate.

Though, none compared to Neon’s own heart-warming celebration. That was a memory you could never erase, not that you’d ever really want to. You could still recall it in clear detail; it was nearing evening and Tala had made some off-hand comments about going out soon to eat to mark the day off. Good food was always a nice bow to tie off a great day.

Tala practically dragged you to the restaurant, with you slightly struggling to keep up despite her not using her High Gear, only slowing down a tad with a bashful apology when you tugged her arm- mildly out of breath. As you settled in the restaurant, only slightly surprised she had a reservation, she was quick to start listing out the food she wanted.

Staring at the table, you’re pretty sure you have a whole feast. The Duelist walks you through it, her eyes lighting up at a few personal favourites of hers. There’s fresh, crispy lumpia, bowls for the piping hot sinigang and steaming rice, another bigger bowl for the warm kare-kare, fried bangus, hearty chicken Tinola and some more plates and dishes for whatever Neon decided was necessary.

The electrical radiant pauses as some pancit arrives at the table. A small and simple yet filling dish. It’s a small portion given what you’d just eaten, but there’s something different about the way Neon wants to show you the dish. She’s almost nervous as she hesitates,

“Hey uh…” she gestures to the plate and pushes it a little in your direction, “This is pancit. It’s a staple celebratory food, especially on birthdays because it symbolises long life. And I know it’s not your birthday but it’s a special day for you and you look the happiest I've ever seen you be. I… I want to commemorate it,” she’s looking away a slight, suddenly shy but you smile at her, trembly and slightly watery from the way you’re tearing up,

“Thank you, Tala. I really appreciate it,” you spoke with a slight sniffle, a few stray tears already falling from not only how kind the gesture was but how far her efforts went for you. Looking back at your expression, her eyes widen a slight,

“H-Hey, hey, no waterworks! This is meant to be a happy occasion, diba? (*right?)” she shakes her head but she’s smiling all the same, relieved. With Neon urging you, you finally grab some rice noodles. However, she’s quick to stop you from breaking the noodles,

“The long life thing doesn’t work if you break them! Each noodle’s long which is where the whole thing came from. If you cut it, you’re cutting off your blessings. And with our kind of jobs, I’d like to keep you around a lot longer. I hate making new friends,” you laugh at the last part, something Tala can’t help but join before you get a better grip on the rice noodles.

You nudge neon a little, waving your fork as you gesture for her to do the same,

“If I’m gonna be living longer, I wanna live longer with my best friend, Y’know? I ain’t having you die on me,” you joke as the radiant laughs a little, nodding her head,

“Well, I’m not planning on leaving you here without me. Who else’s gonna tell you you look bad before we go out?” You’re both smiling and giggling as you clumsily clink your forks in a toast and a promise.

A promise to kick ass together forever and have each other’s backs till the very end.

#Valorant #valorant x reader #valorant neon #neon x reader #x trans male reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #reader insert

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

everything happens for a reason part 3 - zuko x fem!reader

I feel so much, I get carried away

part 2 | masterlist | part 4

a/n: enjoy the fluff in this chapter bc its not gonna last

once again for reference - this chapter takes place 2 years after the last one so y/n is 11 and zuko is 12

warning(s): eating/food, but otherwise its pure fluff

wc: 3.3k

chapter title comes from carried away by madison beer!

i ran out of kid zuko gifs so i had to make my own smh if you want something done you gotta do it yourself

The young friendship only flourished after that fateful day. Zuko and Y/N began spending almost all of their freetime together between Y/N teaching him about her culture, their usual talking in the hallways, and finding ways to hang out together outside of her schedule. She was absolutely delighted to be teaching Zuko though, so she always made sure there was time for her self proclaimed academy.

Y/N was constantly busy around the castle, so in order to hang out they had started waking up extra early — the pair had become experts at sneaking around the castle with the first rays of the sun. The gardens were a favourite because of its availability, and of course, the turtleducks. It also gave Y/N a chance to bend outside of healing, something that they began to take advantage of as they got older.

Sparring sessions became a regular between them as a way for Y/N to get some practice with martial bending, Zuko to experience fighting against a waterbender, and just another way for them to spend time together. Of course, they had to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone of their presence, but that became the least of their worries over time.

They each pushed each other to be better, and with Y/N’s healing skills, they were able to walk away every morning without any injuries. But after discovering a very unfair advantage that the prince held, she decided that morning sparring just wasn’t enough.

(“Firebending gets stronger in the morning,” he had told her after a particularly brutal blast resulting in some emergency bending on Y/N’s part to extinguish a tree. “My teachers always say that we rise with the sun.”

“Well,” she had said with a smile. “We rise with the moon. You just signed yourself up for some late night sparring sessions.”)

Y/N had truly started to come into her own. It had been two years since her capture, and though she had in no way made peace with her life in the Fire Nation, she was trying to take advantage of it as much as she could. Even though she despised being at the beck and call of nobles and guards, she couldn’t deny the opportunities it gave her to hone her abilities. Her healing had improved tenfold and her martial bending wasn’t too shabby either. Between all of the time spent with Zuko and practicing her bending, she was able to distract herself from her dim reality.

But the world was a cruel, cruel place, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It didn’t treat souls like Zuko and Y/N kindly, a fact that they would soon become aware of.

In the moment though, Y/N was more focused on not getting burnt.

She twirled to the side as a small flame shot past her, just barely managing to dodge it as she bent a stream of water out from the pond and sent it at Zuko. He turned it to steam as he blocked it with his own fire, which he then sent back at her with a combination of a punch and a kick. Y/N raised her hands and bent up a large wall of water from the pond, and with a small grunt on her part, sent it flying towards Zuko. He tried to conjure up his own fire shield in an effort to extinguish the water once more, but it was too little too late and he ended up getting knocked to the ground and completely drenched.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips as Zuko wiped water off of his face, sputtering incoherently while he pushed himself up. “Did you really have to do that?” he complained.

“You know I do.” She grinned as she walked around the pond to his side, cracking her knuckles before she began to bend the water out of his clothes. “This was in the morning, too. Admit it, I’m getting better!”

He cracked a smile of his own. “You really are. I just wish that you getting better didn’t end up in me getting soaked every time.”

She bent the water she had extracted from his clothes back into the pond and held out her hand to help him up from the ground, which he took gratefully. “That just makes it more fun.”

As she helped pull him up, Y/N found herself more than a little transfixed. The rays of the rising sun shone down on him perfectly, and the smile still on his lips made her feel flutter bats in her stomach.

Y/N didn’t know when she had started seeing Zuko in a different light than usual. When his laughs became melodious, his smile like a ray of sunshine on its own, his company coveted. While she was usually able to trade verbal jabs with him without a second thought, doing her self-assigned job of keeping him humble, something had changed in the past year.

They grew steadily closer over the years after they had met, but one event in particular all but pushed Zuko into her arms.

Ursa’s banishment.

Of course, they didn’t know that she had been banished. No one aside from Ozai knew the true nature of her disappearance — to her children and the other inhabitants of the palace, it was just that. A disappearance.

It was suspicious, yes. All in the span of a day, Princess Ursa vanished, Fire Lord Azulon mysteriously perished, and Ozai took his place, but nothing could be done. It was a somber day for every servant — Ursa showed them a kindness that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the palace, and to rub salt in the wound, a man just as cruel as Azulon had risen to the throne.

Zuko was devastated. He had always been close with his mother, and the only thing she had given him before leaving was a short goodbye and a kiss. He was angry beyond belief at the abandonment, and that anger overshadowed his grief.

Y/N tried to help him, but he lashed out at her.

“Your mother is still here and she loves you! Mine left me like I was nothing. Don’t try and say you know how I feel.”

“But my father is gone. I do know how you feel Zuko, and I want to help you, but I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away.”

“…you don’t know anything.”

It hurt, but she knew he needed space. She gave it to him, letting him brew alone and take out his anger however necessary, but let him know that the door was open when he was ready to talk.

He did — he had apologized for what he said and she accepted, and Zuko ended up spilling every emotion he had to her over the next few weeks. She listened, offered advice when she could, and made Zuko feel a little bit less alone in the scheme of it all. It was a horrible experience, but it brought them closer together, and the prince was eternally thankful that he had a friend to help him through the ordeal.

The night that he came to her room, admitting that he was hurting and asking for her help — Y/N thinks that was the moment she fell for him. She cursed herself at the time for developing feelings for her only friend in the palace, but over time she learned to cover them up. She had to remember her place.

She understood her role, but it got harder and harder to keep up with it the more time she spent with Zuko — this moment was no exception.

“Yeah, yeah. I just hold back because I don’t want to burn you.”

“Liar!” she exclaimed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “You forget that I can heal myself if anything goes wrong. Besides, I know you’d never burn me. I trust you.”

Zuko smiled and smoothed his clothes back down, the only sign of their sparring session now gone. “Good, because I trust you too. No matter how many times you totally drench me.”

She snorted as she started to walk back to the palace. “Like I said, that just makes it more fun. And as fun as it has been completely crushing you in combat, duty calls.”

He sighed, giving a reluctant nod as he started to follow her — then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed her arm to stop them. “Wait, how much work do you have today?”

Y/N thought for a few seconds then shrugged. “Dunno, it varies. I got stuck working with Jaysa all this morning, so that’s going to take forever, I have my usual healing lessons with Master Rika after, and then I usually just end up going around with whatever else comes my way for the rest of the day.” She grinned and lowered her voice as if the subject of the matter could somehow hear her. “I’ve been working on a dress for my mother in secret because her birthday is coming up soon, so the free time I get between my shifts that isn’t spent with you has been going towards that.”

Zuko gaped. “You’re making her a dress all on your own, with no help? How?”

She held up her hands with a proud smile. “These things are good for waterbending, sewing, and hitting best friends.”

He gave her a sideways grin at that. “I’m your best friend?”

Y/N snickered and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dummy. You’re like, the only person that likes me in this whole nation. Of course you’re my best friend.”

“Well…” he started. “Would a best friend like to break the rules even more tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in turn, completely betraying her excitement despite her attempt to look nonchalant about it. “That depends — what d’you have in mind?”

He grinned and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper as he spoke in her ear. “So, after you finish work for the night, we…”

It was a struggle to get through all of her work after the plan that she and Zuko had formulated — sure, they broke the rules all the time. The basis of their entire friendship was breaking the rules, but this was going farther than they ever had before. Y/N wasn’t thinking about the consequences though, she was thinking about the journey — that was her first mistake.

She had rushed through all of her chores with Jaysa, hardly paid attention in her healing lessons, and made quick work of the rest of her day until she was finally able to meet up with Zuko at one of the various servant entrances that she had shown him.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, his body buzzing with nervous energy. “I thought you were never gonna come.”

“Some of us actually have work to get done, mister crown prince,” she joked as she bumped his shoulder with hers. “But that doesn’t matter — let’s get going before someone catches us! I don’t want it to get too dark either.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Zuko reassured. “My dad is in war meetings all day, no one is going to catch us. Now come on!”

Zuko pushed open the door, grabbed her hand, and began to pull her along. A laugh fell from her lips as they ran, unable to stop herself from casting a cautionary glance behind them as they got farther from the palace. Y/N tried to push her worries out of her mind — like she had told Zuko earlier, she trusted him.

That was her second mistake.

It was surprisingly easy to sneak past the guards around the wall and just as quick to get through Royal Caldera, and before Y/N knew it, they had arrived in the city.

It was nothing like she had ever seen before.

The village she had grown up in was miniscule compared to anything in the Fire Nation, and she was especially awestruck upon entering the city. As home to more middle class citizens than anything, it was a bustling marketplace filled with workers and nobles alike — if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the stars in her eyes, she would’ve been able to see the way Zuko was absolutely beaming at her.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand once again as he began to walk — at a much more moderate pace than their run here — down the streets. “There’s so much here that I wanna show you. Have you ever been out here?”

She shook her head, allowing herself to gawk at her surroundings while they went down the street. “We aren’t really allowed to leave the palace since we’re technically still prisoners, just… ones that work. My mother always had to give her money to one of the other servants so that when they went out to buy their things, they could pick some stuff up for us as well. This is all totally new.”

Once again, a frown found its way onto Zuko’s face, but only for a split second before he pointed at a stall opposite to them. “Oh— there’s a fruit stand! Come on, you have to try this.”

Y/N let Zuko pull her over to the stand, looking at the array of fruits on display while Zuko conversed with the merchant. A few silver pieces later and they were walking away with a basket of produce — miraculously, the prince hadn’t been recognized, so she figured he wouldn’t need a disguise. Third mistake.

“Here,” he said, offering her a mango from the basket. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Fire Nation mango.”

She took the fruit from him and bit into it, her eyes immediately widening as she turned on Zuko. “Tui’s gills, this is delicious! You’re telling me that you people just have this on hand but we don’t get any of it?”

He shrugged and took a fig from the basket as Y/N wiped some juice off of her chin. “There’s a reason I’ve helped you break into the kitchens so many times. Now, where do you wanna go next?”

The pair spent the next couple of hours browsing the marketplace, enjoying their day on the Fire Lord’s coin. Zuko was more than happy to show Y/N parts of his culture after all she had taught him, and she was more than happy to experience it. They had been able to buy lanterns for the upcoming Festival of Szeto, purchase their own blends of tea leaves, and of course Zuko insisted on getting fire flakes and gummies.

(Y/N thought he was insane. Why in the world would the Fire Nation want to make food that hurt them on purpose? She was going to stick with her newfound love for mangoes.)

But Zuko hadn’t even brought her to the best part yet.

“Can I open my eyes now?” She asked, her anxious tone betraying her curiosity.

“Now you can.” Y/N was met with Zuko’s grin and as she focused on the stand in front of them, she had to make a conscious effort to not gape.

Zuko had brought her to a sewing stand with all the threads, fabrics, and silks that she could dream of in all kinds of colors. She immediately rushed forward, unable to stop herself from running her hands over and through each and every piece of material — she was in a seamstress’s heaven.

“I take that as a sign you like it?” Zuko asked happily.

“Oh, definitely,” she confirmed, still completely caught up in all the choices. “This is so much better than all the material we’re given to work with!”

“That’s why I brought you here. I thought you could get some stuff for yourself, and some stuff to help with the dress you’re making for your mom. I don’t really know how sewing works, but I thought that this was one way I could help.”

“That is so sweet of you!” she gushed. “Thank you so much — you should probably get around to some of the other stalls because I… I think I’m gonna be here for a while.”

Zuko laughed and fished out of a couple of golden pieces then set them in her hand. “That’s okay. I’ll meet you over by the steps; we can watch the sunset together.”

They nodded as parting gifts and each was enveloped in their tasks; Y/N beginning to ask the merchant questions about everything at their stand and Zuko off to entertain himself for a few more minutes.

Soon enough, Y/N had her own small bundle of silks and fabrics, her mind already going off in a million different ways of how she could incorporate it into the design. She found Zuko sitting on the steps and as she took her own seat next to him, he handed her another mango.

“Did you find everything you wanted?” She nodded and hummed gratefully as she accepted the fruit, taking a bite as her eyes fell on the skyline in front of them.

“I had a really great time today, Zuko. I really can’t thank you enough for taking me out here. I… I think I forgot what it was like to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“...happy.” She paused for a second before allowing herself to meet his eyes. “All the time I spend with you in the palace… It’s one of the only times that I really do feel happy. And being out here today, getting to walk around where I wanted and buy things and just— I feel free, Zuko. And that means everything to me.”

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and she turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that—“

Zuko gently reached out for her hand, drawing her attention back to him and the soft smile on his face.

“Well… I care about you. You’re nice to me, and you take time out of your day to help me which you don’t have to do. This is just me trying to pay you back for all you’ve done to help me. We can do this more often — whenever my dad’s busy.”

Her own smile grew on her lips and she nodded as she laced her fingers with his. “I care about you too. And.. I’d like that.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder and together, they watched the sunset over the city.

There was no place either of them would rather be.

Y/N and Zuko made their way back to the palace as quickly as they could after realizing how late it had gotten. Y/N was sure that she was going to get the talking-to of her life after what she had done, but she was almost giddy after what had just happened. She could deal with any of Kura’s consequences later — right now the only thought in her mind was the feeling of Zuko’s hand in hers.

The night had been nothing short of perfect. She had felt freer than ever before out there in the city with Zuko, and knowing that he reciprocated the feelings she had for him was enough to make her heart burst. She cared for him, and he cared for her.

Of course, there was that nagging question of how they would continue now that their friendship had morphed into something more, but once again — it was something she would deal with later. Her fourth and final mistake.

But as a guard turned the corner, Y/N realized she might not get the chance. She quickly let go of Zuko’s hand and tucked it under the bundle of fabric, hoping that the gesture of affection had been missed by the man.

If he had noticed, he showed no sign of it. He stopped in front of them, a gruff voice speaking from behind the mask with words that made her heart stop.

“Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord has requested an audience with you.”

haha OOPS

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27

atla: @marianne1806

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko fic #zuko #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fic #avatar the last airbender fic #atla #atla fic #zuko avatar #sadie writes

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ramzawrites · 3 years

Note

Hey, so I'm having a really rough time rn (dealing with bs from my friend group, we have to take my really old dog to the vet today bc we found blood in her pee and we're scared that she won't make it this time, I'm struggling with my mental health, I'm just kinda goin thru it rn ig) so I would love a comfort fic with the sbi maybe with the reader as their sibling where the reader is the one that always comforts the fam, but hides their emotions until (1/2, very sorry about splitting it)

(2/2) something happens that makes the reader have a full on breakdown? I'll leave the rest to you, it can be a good or bad ending, headcanons or one shots, anything. You can ignore this request if you want/if it makes you uncomfortable. Please don't feel pressured/guilt tripped to write anything from this, your mental health comes first and I'm sure you're already really busy. Reminder to eat something today if you haven't yet and get a drink of water <3

We are family - Reader and SBI!Brothers

Pairings: none

Characters included: Wilbur, Technoblade, Tommy, (mentioned) Niki, (mentioned) Schlatt

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request <3

Summary: Y/N came back from an errand and surprises their brothers with their weird behavior. Trying to put on their usual smile, trying to hide away their real emotions but their brothers know them better than they inititally suspected. They could immediately tell that something must have happened.

Words count: 2060

Authors Note: I’m so sorry this took so long! I hope you and your dog are doing better! 💙 I wish I could give you more than words of encouragement and that I managed to get faster to this request, I apologize Please make sure to take care of yourself, alright? Take time for yourself to deal with the stress and anxiety! Make sure to stay hydrated and remember to eat! Even if it’s just something small!

Once again I apologize for the long wait, I felt really bad already and then I kinda put it off because I felt bad.

adhd hit hard again and haven’t checked for typos yet, but will get on it as soon as I can o7

On another note if you want to read another comfort fic; I have a small series called “A Painful Reminder” which is more angsty but the 2nd part is more about the comfort, if that is something for you

Living in the SMP was chaotic, turbulent and at times downright painful.

Most people tended to gravitate to one cause or other people to deal with this. Holding on to something so they don’t get pulled under. Get buried beneath the chaos and the violence.

So having people like Y/N around was like a godsend. They were one of the few people that seemed to be able to withstand the constant waves of misfortune and stand strong. Be the rock to hold onto when everything got too overwhelming.

Wilbur, Technoblade and Tommy loved their sibling for it.

After Wilbur and Tommy got exiled with Y/N out of L’Manberg, they were there and cheered both of their siblings up. Immediately making plans on how to set up a safe home and collecting ideas on how to get back. They were the one who managed to get a message out to Technoblade and asked him to visit them. Maybe help them.

Wilbur often jokingly said that Y/N was the glue that held the family together, to which they would always reply with the warmest of smiles “I’m glad.”

And what he said was true. Whenever the family fell on hard times and they began to drift apart it was Y/N who pulled all of them back. Pulling them back to reality and giving solutions for their problems if needed.

Sitting down with Wilbur when things got to much. Listening to his thoughts and worries, letting his emotion run freely without judgement. While they looked worried for him, their comforting smile never faltered. Offering him solutions to problems if he wanted it, otherwise they gave him the chance to just air his own thoughts out. To be angry with him. Sad with him.

Working with Tommy on his own projects. Listening to his ideas and giving him a different perspective that could improve some things but also respecting it when Tommy wanted to do this his way. And while he liked to brag and pretend that some things didn’t hit him that hard, they were still patiently listening to him as he spoke about his own pain in a more roundabout way. Telling him that he was not alone and making him feel heard.

Talking to Technoblade whenever the voices got too loud or out of hand again. He would just walk over to them and nudge them away, asking them to talk about something, no matter what. He just needed to hear their voice and be able to concentrate on it. Tune out the garbled voices in his head with a familiar sound that calmed him down no matter what. Leaning against them, slowly falling asleep as Y/N told all about how they were happily working on their own farm and what shenanigans they got up to.

Y/N really was like the warm sun on a cold day. Warming them up and protecting them.

Yes, Y/N was strong. So strong that even Technoblade considered them stronger than him. Maybe not physically but mentally and emotionally.

A clanging of metal rung through the cave. Techno was training with Wilbur while Tommy was just watching. Cheering on Techno.

It wasn’t an unusual situation and something Y/N expected to see as they made their way down the staircase. Wilbur in full iron armor and weapon while Techno just fought back with his own iron sword.

“Hey, Y/N! Welcome back!” Wilbur breathed out. Sweat running down the side of his face as he stopped attacking his brother.

The three men looked happily over to their sibling who slowly walked towards them but soon their expressions fell. Something was off about Y/N and it confused the three.

Their smile was as always plastered on their face but it looked strained. Their eyes wide open, trying to look sincere and loving but the glassy look of them gave off a different picture.

“Y/N? You okay?” Tommy asked as he stood up from the ground. Taking a step closer to them which made them in return stop in their tracks.

Y/N was hugging themself, shakily opening up their mouth to answer but nothing came out. It was then when Techno got very aware of how they were shaking in general.

This all seemed so wrong. This shouldn’t be possible. It just didn’t seem to register fully inside their minds.

Wilbur made sure to get rid off his sword and armor as fast as he could, walking over to his sibling, trying to get a better look at them but they just avoided his gaze.

Staring at the ground, slowly shaking their head “It’s- It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t. You really aren’t. What happened? Did they find you?” Techno asked, his voice full with worry. A bit of anger hidden as well.

Y/N had their own little farm in order to support Pogtopia. The potatoes from Techno were great but variety is important after all. Though they also had an abundance of wheat they usually tried to smuggle into Manberg for Niki. Trying to help her out as much as possible with her taxes and work.

This time Y/N nodded “They did… It’s fine though. I’m fine. I’m not hurt. It’s all good.”

Wilbur’s frown deepened “Usually when people have to be so adamant about being okay something isn’t alright.”

Tommy nodded, supporting his statement only to whisper to himself “Adamant? What does-“

But Wilbur continued “We are your family, talk to us.”

Y/N licked their chapped lips “I’m-“

The tears finally escaped their eyes and begun streaming down their face. Sobbing they fell down on the ground. Wilbur immediately followed suit, laying his arm around them and pulling them against his chest. His hand flew up to their head and begun going through their hair, trying to calm them down. Humming a soft tune from their childhood.

It was the first time in their lives they saw Y/N break down like that and it was quite frankly shocking.

Unsure what to do with himself Tommy squatted down “Um, uh, what- what happened?”

Techno was still gripping the iron sword in his hand. Pacing up and down. Manberg found them? What the hell did they do to make Y/N break down like that? His own sibling! Whatever it was he would make sure to pay it back a thousand times over.

“Tommy can you grab them some water?” Wilbur laid his chin on top of Y/N’s head, rubbing circles now on their back.

He didn’t even hesitate, jumping up to run towards one of the chests with food items that Y/N had always ready for them. Grabbing a water bottle and running back over. Happy that he could do something else besides staring.

Tommy then pushed the bottle towards Y/N who gratefully took it, putting some space between them and Wilbur as they drank some of the cold liquid which helped them to calm down.

“You ready to tell us what happened?” Techno stopped pacing around. His gaze purely trained on his crying sibling. Anger still rising in him just like the voices.

Screaming things like “Technosib! How dare they hurt them! Protect them! I love Y/N so much! Why would anyone hurt Y/N! They always help us! Let’s help them for a change! Technosib! Let’s go out and fight them! Yeah! Blood for the Blood God and Y/N!”

Y/N’s voice was still wavering and a bit scratchy from their sobbing as they begun speaking “Hey, hey! Techno don’t concentrate on the voices. Listen to me. It’s all good.”

This somehow made Techno angry. He threw the sword away and finally knelt down next to them as well so his face was on the same eye level as theirs “Stop. Please. Stop thinking about us for one second. Stop trying to not make us uncomfortable or worried! Tell us what happened! Please.”

He was basically begging at the last part. All his worry packed into it.

“Yeah, honestly you trying to make sure everything is okay for us makes us even more worried.” It surprised the others a bit that this came from Tommy but he was correct.

Tears fell down their face again “I- I was just delivering more wheat to Niki and someone must have followed me. They followed me back to my farm and- and- they burned my fields down. There were explosions. I- it was just my farm. I did not harm. Just, why does it always have to end like this. Why do all the good things always end like this. Why can’t this place let something be. There is always something.”

The farm was so important to Y/N. It was their little project they put so much sweat, love and work into. It was their home away from home. A place to retreat and enjoy some peace. This obviously was devastating. It was their one thing they had for themself. The one thing that wasn’t there for anyone else but them.

It was also clear that this seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and it broke the three a bit that they only now seemed to notice this. That it took that long and their whole farm being destroyed for the realize this was heartbreaking.

“Who?” Techno urged but Y/N shook their head.

“I don’t know. Everything went so fast and I tried to save as much as I could but- but it’s all gone. It’s all gone.” Their voice jumped up an octave at the end, burying their face against Wilbur’s shoulder again. Silently sobbing.

It should have been impossible but Wilbur’s frown deepened and his expression turned more grim “Don’t worry. We will get back at them. We will get our revenge. They will see firsthand what they did to you, I promise.”

Shocked Y/N looked up, their red and puffy eyes wide open “Wil, that’s not what I- no revenge. There is already too much misery going around I just want this to stop. I just want all of us being able to live in peace.”

Wilbur should have known that Y/N was too good natured for that but he couldn’t help himself. He was just so angry. Angry at Schlatt and Manberg. That they went for him was one thing but to go out of their way to treat Y/N like this? Let’s just say he put it on the list in bold letters with reasonings on why he will get back at the Manberg faction.

“Listen Y/N.” Techno begun, his voice now calm again “Stop it. Just for once think about yourself. Stop thinking about others for once. You are also worthy of the same care you give us. Let us at least help rebuild your farm. You always help us with our projects, let us help you with yours.”

Tommy seemed to lit up at that “That sounds like a good idea! We could build towers around your new farm and make sure no one gets in! We could put down traps and all!”

He really wasn’t sure how to react but that was at least something he could do for them. As the past General’s right hand man, this should be something he can do. If he couldn’t protect his sibling how could he ever hope to get L’Manberg back.

Wilbur seemed to think about it for a bit but agreed “Yeah, how does that sound?” Though the dark glint in his eyes stayed. The cogs in head still running off with his own thoughts.

“You guys would? Since when can you guys build?” a dry laugh escaped them but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Both Tommy and Wilbur looked almost appalled at that claim while Techno just shrugged and nodded. Just looking around Pogtopia was more functioning than good looking after all. Y/N tried to pretty it up a bit but usually something always happened around here.

“Also Y/N, please talk to us more. Don’t bottle everything up. Please. We worry a lot about you and we love you. You always do so much for us, let us do the same.” Wilbur pushed Y/N a bit off of him and looked them deep into their eyes, hoping that this would really hammer in that this was a genuine plea.

As a respone Y/N wiped the tears off their face “I understand. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Don’t try just do it.”

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #sbi x reader #sbi reader insert #dsmp x Y/N #ramza writes #Anonymous #anon request

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Note

Anon who’s dog had a seizure. I wanted to be able to give a positive update, but I won’t be able to. I was woken up by a call at around 1:30am from my mom and the first thing she said was “[my dogs name] died”

I don’t know all the details, I was in a full fledge panic attack and was overcome with despair when it was either explained to me or I overheard (frankly, I don’t remember) but apparently at some point either last night or veryyyyy early this morning my mom let the dog out to use the restroom, and he collapsed again similarly to how he did two days ago. My mom rushed him to the emergency vet (a thirty minute drive) but he didn’t even make it there.

I think I was dry heaving at some point because my panic was so bad. I ended up going to the vet with my dad so I could say goodbye (he had before my mom left with the dog) and ngl, going with him did not help in the slightest. My dad has NPD and he kept making the situation about himself and I stg I was ready to throw myself out the car window in the middle of the freeway and walk the rest of the way there OOP—

I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to because of Covid, but we were allowed to all head into the vet and hold him and give proper goodbyes before they took him to be cremated (they have a partnership with some place that does all that jazz). It was rough. He’s a small dog, only 18 pounds, but just holding him felt so different. There was no resistance when I picked him up (I’m not his favorite person lol, so he’d always deadpan and shuffle away a little from me before giving in whenever i’d make grabby hands hahaha) and it was just rough.

A year and a half ago my old bird passed away in that same emergency vet, so I just felt like I was suffocating the whole time. It was basically history repeating itself and I had a ✨mental breakdown✨ while cradling the pooch. My mom almost had to drag me out 2.5 hours later because I didn’t want to leave him. I tried to be strong, he was her dog in the end and they had an unbreakable bond. I should’ve been the one comforting her, not the other way around. I totally failed lol.

Thank god I was able to go home with my mom and not my dad. I wanted to be the one to drive home so she could rest, but I didn’t have the energy to protest when I saw she was already in the drivers seat.

We’ve had him since he was a few months old. I was in first grade at the time, and despite us having a very rocky start (young me didn’t like all the attention he received bc it used to be mine) he was my lil buddy and I would have done anything for him. I was looking forward to taking my senior and graduation pictures with him soon, but it seems like that won’t be happening. I just wish I did more with him.

Sorry for rambling and being so depressing! I haven’t gotten much sleep over the past two nights so I’m really out of it.

If it’s not too much to ask for, could I have a part ii of my previous request but have it involving what I wrote above? Asdfghjkl my depressed ass needs comfort and all of my friends are in school LOL. (Thank god I was called off from school this time) Plus, I don’t wanna make my mom feel worse by adding my grief on top of her own (I hope that made sense)

Part 1

(A/N): anon, I’m so sorry to hear about your dog. From what you sent me about him, he sounded like an absolute delight to be around and a very good boy. You deserve to grieve too, even if you don’t think you should. Grieving is healthy and it’s something that shouldn’t be ignored. Everyone grieves differently, so maybe you and your mom could reminisce on the good times with him? Only if you both feel comfortable doing so of course. Please get some sleep, drink plenty of water, and eat some food if you haven’t already. My DMs are always open if you ever want to talk <3

Warnings: death of a dog and bird (mentioned), panic attacks, NPD parent mention

You were jolted awake by a loud ring from your phone laying on your nightstand. It was the ringtone you specifically set for your mom. Blinking deliriously, you answered with a raspy, “mom?”

You were only met with her choked sobs on the other end. This woke you up completely as you turned on a lamp and sat up fully in your bed, “mom what’s wrong?”

“(Dog name)...” She was unable to say your dog's name before she broke into more harsh sobbing. Worry and fear pricked your gut at the mention of your dog’s name. “What about (dog name)? What’s going on?”

“He d-died, (y/n). He isn’t suffering anymore.” You felt as if ice cold water was poured onto you as you sat staring at the wall in shock. Faintly you heard your mom telling you how it happened, but you didn’t register her words. The words that came out of your mother’s mouth were nearly incomprehensible anyways due to her distress. You didn’t know when she hung up, but the next time you looked at the phone screen your homescreen met you: a picture of you, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy at an amusement park.

Your panic attack had escalated to you dry heaving over the toilet after puking up your dinner. You felt like you were suffocating as you remembered the techniques Techno used a few days prior. You stumbled up from a crouch and scrambled over to the sink. Your hands could barely grab the faucet and turn it on as you lost most of your sense of spatial awareness and everything you touched felt distant, like every single synapse in your body was both simultaneously working in overdrive and failing at the same time. The water was as cold as it was going to get, so you plunged your hands into the liquid and felt your body jolt at the temperature. After a while, your hands turned numb after regaining some senses back so you shakily cupped your hands under the faucet and gathered water into your hands. You splashed it at your face and felt yourself becoming more grounded as time passed.

By the time you left the bathroom, your dad gathered you into the car and started to drive you to the emergency vet. The entire time he was ranting about how you needed to pull yourself together because the dog was closer to him than to you. That definitely did not help in any way, it made you want to jump out of the car and walk the rest of the way to the vet. It would be better than having someone constantly belittling you for grieving. The ride was hell, but you persevered for (dog name). You needed to say goodbye to him.

When you left the car and walked into the building, it felt as if you were walking through the nine rings of hell with blazing infernos licking at your skin with every step. Dread and despair filled and overwhelmed you with every step.

When a nurse escorted you to the room, she offered you her condolences and left you to say goodbye. With wide eyes, you slowly walked over to your mom and saw the motionless bundle of fur in her hands. It looked like he was sleeping, but you knew better. She looked at you with so much heartbreak and sadness as tears slipped down her cheeks that you remembered that he was her dog in the end and they’ve always had an unbreakable bond. You needed to be strong for her.

Your stony facade broke the second your mom handed you (dog name). He was cold and stiff as he laid unmoving in your arms, not even trying to wiggle out of your embrace like he always did. You were never his favorite person. He felt so… different. So wrong.

Time passed around you as you held him and cried into his fur. This situation was very similar to your previous one that happened about a year and a half ago when your bird passed away and that was what finally sent you over the edge. Before you knew it, your mom was dragging you out of the building so he could get cremated. Your dad had long since gone home so he could get ready for work, so that left you to ride home with your mom. Not that you were complaining, it was certainly better than riding home with your dad. You just wished that you could drive so she could get some rest.

By time you got home, it was about the same time you would leave for school. As you were driving down your neighborhood, you saw a very familiar car pass you. It was Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy’s car. They were probably going to school. You kept your head down and stared intensely at your tightly clasped hands.

The second the car was in park in your driveway, you made a beeline for your room. For the rest of the day, you hid underneath your covers and ignored the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand. You spent that time alone having a panic attack. This was your longest and most intense one yet, by the time it finally calmed down it was 10:30 at night.

You smacked your dry lips together and feel absolutely drained. The buzzing still wouldn’t let up, so you reached out with a shaky hand and opened your phone. You had at least eighty combined missed texts from Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno.

Tuesday, Innit?

Yo, the fuck’s goin on?

Why the hell did you ignore us when we passed you???

Music man take me by the hand lead me to the land

Ignore that dumbass

What’s going on? You weren’t at school today

(Y/n)?

Technology Sword

You don’t have to tell us what happened if you’re not comfortable

Just tell us if you’re okay

That was only the start of the messages in the group chat. Granted it was mostly Tommy spamming your name and Wilbur and Techno trying to get him to chill out, but some of the messages managed to calm the swirling panic inside of you slightly. Your phone buzzed as you got another text. This time, it was an individual one from Technoblade.

Technology Sword

Look out your window, grab your notebook

You raised your eyebrows slightly as you read the message. Your window was right across from Technoblade’s, so when you saw Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” music video and showed it to Techno, you both decided that this would be your primary communication before you eventually got phones. It wasted a ton of paper, but you both felt like the main characters in a story so you kept doing it. You hadn’t done this since you got your phone and he got his.

After you grabbed your spare notebook and a sharpie, you sat up in your bed and turned on your lamp. When you opened your curtains, you saw Techno smiling at you before he grabbed his notebook and wrote ‘hello’.

You uncapped your marker, wrote ‘hi’, and shakily raised it to him. You saw him frown at your shakiness, he wrote ‘you okay?’

You stared at your paper for a bit contemplating whether or not you should tell him the truth. It was no use in lying to him, he knew you better than you knew yourself. After a moment, you wrote ‘no’.

You watched as he frowned and his eyebrows crinkled together in an upwards slant. ‘Discord?’

‘Sure’

You closed your curtains once more and opened up your PC. You could already see that Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy were in a separate voice channel. When you joined, you were startled by Tommy’s loud screaming and Wilbur’s hysterical laughter.

“WILBUR YOU PRICK WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT I WORKED SO HARD GETTING THAT NETHERITE!”

They were interrupted by a knock on Tommy’s door, “Tommy for the love of god it’s almost eleven at night kiddo. You can keep playing but please just keep it down.”

“SORRY DADZA!”

“Good job dumbass,” Wilbur chuckled.

“Hey (y/n), how’re you?” Techno’s somewhat pointed voice interrupted them. “(Y/N)! Please tell Wilbur that it’s not cool to borrow my armor and ‘accidentally’ fall into a lava lake.”

“It was an accident I swear!” Wilbur’s slight chuckle told you otherwise. “Wilbur,” your croaky and wobbly voice scolded him quietly, “not cool.”

The voice channel went silent as you logged into your shared minecraft server. You immediately spawned in the main lobby at spawn that you built the last time you logged in. You got to work gathering wood for walls you were going to build around the city. You saw Techno’s character run to you and help you gather wood.

“...You good, (y/n)?” Tommy’s voice took on an uncharacteristic level of gentleness and concern.

“‘M fine.”

After a while of silence, you heard keyboards start to click again. Gradually conversation started back up and everything felt lighthearted once more. Though, you only talked when you were prompted to. After gathering the correct amount of wood, you and Techno went back to your house so you could craft some slabs. However as you approached the crafting table, you passed your bed. Next to your bed was your pet dog, barking slightly and looking at you with it’s pixel eyes.

You could feel tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the pixelated dog. With a lump forming in your throat you struggled to breathe through it, your breaths coming out shuttering. You made quick work of muting yourself on Discord and started sobbing, the white dog staring at you sitting on top of your minecraft bed. This wasn’t a panic attack, you knew that. But you still felt overcome by a massive wave of grief.

After a bit, you saw Techno’s character pop in front of you and start hitting the air. In chat, you saw that he private messaged you ‘vc 2’

You clicked off the main voice chat and was immediately greeted by Techno’s gentle voice. “What’s goin on buddy?” He was only met with your sobs, “deep breaths.”

“I’m not having a panic attack.”

“Still, deep breaths are good. Follow me.” With that, you two worked on getting your breathing back to normal and your tears slowly stopped. The entire time he was giving you praise and gentle reassurances whenever you tried to apologize to him. By the time you stopped crying you felt almost completely drained.

“You okay now?” You hummed in confirmation, too tired to say anything. “Thank you Tech, I-I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing for feeling emotions. They’re one hundred percent valid… Do you feel comfortable telling me what happened?”

“I…” You trailed off as you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words out loud. “You don’t have to tell me, ya know.” Technoblade gently reminded you.

“I’ll PM it to you.” With that, you PMed him on minecraft explaining that your dog died this morning. “Fuck, I’m so sorry (y/n). I’m sure he isn’t suffering anymore. Did- did they ever find out what caused the seizures?”

“No, but… he had tons of health issues that I’m glad he doesn’t have to deal with anymore.”

“Do you wanna talk about the good times with him with Wil and Tommy? If you don’t want to we can just talk about them here.”

“Let’s rejoin the main voice channel.”

“Hey (y/n), how’re you doing?” Wilbur gently asked you. “I’m alright, do- do you guys know what happened?” They both said yes. Technoblade must’ve told them what was happening.

“(Y/n) come outside. We built something for you.” Tommy was uncharastically gentle.

When you moved to go outside of your minecraft house and Wilbur and Tommy led you to an empty spot in the city you four were building, you stopped in your tracks. In front of you built in various types of stone was a dog statue. In front of it stood a sign that read ‘in loving memory of (dog name)’.

“We aren’t done with it, but we can finish it in a couple of hours,” Wilbur mumbled into the microphone.

“No, it’s perfect as it is. I don’t know what to say guys…”

“You don’t have to say anything, just know that we’re here for you.” Tommy said, his minecraft character walking over to your own and hitting you.

“Oi, don’t hit them!” Techno punched him back and that started an all out brawl between the two. It quickly ended when Techno pulled out his fully enchanted netherite sword named ‘Orphan Obliterator’.

“Get fucked, nerd.” You could just tell Tommy was holding in screaming at his brother. “I’m not the nerd here, you’re the one that reads for fun.” Tommy retorted. You heard shuffling on Techno’s end and him walking away from his PC. You were about to ask what was happening before you heard Tommy silently scream in terror. “Oh fuck he’s coming!” You assumed that Tommy ran to lock his door. Not long after that you heard a knock, “I just wanna talk.”

“No! You-”

“I just wanna talk.”

“Let him talk, Tommy!”

“NO WILBUR.”

You heard Philza’s groggy muffled voice, “it is midnight on a Friday. I don’t care what happens or who fights who, just do it in your own rooms and do it quietly.”

“Sorry Dad,” you heard Techno’s retreating steps before he returned to his chair. “You’re a douche, Technoblade.”

“I just wanted to talk, Tommy.” At that, Techno started beating Tommy to death once more. Each time he would kill Tommy, he would give Tommy a small head start before he would find him again. While this was happening, Wilbur PMed you ‘wanna prank Tommy and Techno? I’m thinking we put chickens under their houses’.

You looked at his player and nodded. You and Wilbur got to work luring chickens into holes you dug around their bases and burying them so that they were close enough to hear, but deep enough for it to be mildly inconvenient finding them. After you two were done with that, you met at spawn again.

“Techno stop killing Tommy. We want to tell stories about (dog name).” You saw Techno’s character sprint to your group and Tommy’s come up from a hole in the ground. “I was just about to find him.”

“Thank you! God, I hate it when he does that.”

The rest of the night you four spent reminiscing on the funny things that (dog name) did over the years. At some points you even laughed along with them. After you told them that you wanted to take your senior pictures with him, Techno offered to edit him into your photos. You didn’t know when you passed out but when you woke up, you had a crick in your neck and your PC monitor was off. You could hear three sets of soft snoring on the other end of the call. You felt yourself drifting off to their gentle breathing and smiled slightly; with them, everything felt better.

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #sbi family au #requests #hellion's requests #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety #tw: animal death #tw: animal injury #tw: swearing

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kerie-prince · 4 years

Text

forgotten birthdays

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader

requested: (anon) Hiii, can I request something aangsty with Fred Weasley and slytherin reader? Like he got mad for something, maybe jealousy bc reader was spending much time with her house mates and he ignores her or says mean things to her but with a happy ending please 🥺

warnings: language

summary: Fred has his suspicions about your best friend and on the day of your birthday, he crosses the line which causes you to rethink your relationship

a/n: yoo this was hard to write for a quick second lol i hope you enjoy ~ plus, i got a new job so i'm in training and i'm so excited bc i've been wanting this job for so long (y/n/n = your nickname)

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

It was getting irritating.

You love Fred with all your heart, but he needed to stop being jealous. Marcus Flint was, is, and always will just be a friend of yours. You two grew up together and are nearly attached to the hip. Never once had you two of you flirted or done anything together. It was purely platonic, but Fred insisted there was something.

And going to Marcus’ prefect dorm after every fight probably didn't help your cause all that well, but he's your best friend. Who else would you talk to? You didn't have many girlfriends and when Fred introduced you to Angelina, you had gotten into a big fight for no reason. But you never asked him to stop hanging out with her even though you wanted to.

You could tell she liked Fred, but you were confident enough to know that Fred would never do you wrong like that. So why does he think that of you? Why does he get to hang out with Angelina, but he gets angry when you barely say two words to Marcus?

It was hard, but you’d work it out and still love each other at the end of the day. But then your birthday came around, and you’d just about had it.

You woke up in a good mood; the river sent in flowing rays of sunlight. Not too blinding, but not too dim either. This would be the second time celebrating your birthday with your boyfriend and if last year was amazing, you couldn't wait to see what Fred had planned for you today.

You took your time getting ready; you put on more make-up than usual and rather than tying your hair up with a clip as you always did, you let it down and fixed some strays to better frame your face. When you walked into the common room, your best friend snuck up behind you and yelled in your ear, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!”

Your natural response was to duck down and cover your ears. You hated when he did that, but you still appreciate the sentiment. You punched his arm as you laughed. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh yeah, then why did I laugh?” Marcus joked. Malfoy and his friends were behind him chuckling, all boys greeting you and wishing you a happy birthday. Marcus flung his arm around your shoulder and walked with you to get breakfast.

Once in the Great Hall, you saw Fred and his friends all laughing at the Gryffindor table and just when you were about to break free from Marcus’ hold, he pulled you back, “Oh no you don’t. You have all day to hang out with Weasley and company, but right now, you are gonna have at least one meal with your best friend.” You weren't going to argue; you didn't want to. If you wanted to sit with Fred, you wouldn't have to put up a fight, you would just do it. At your Slytherin table were Marcus’ other friends, Adrian Pucey and Terence Higgs. You sat in between them and pulled your hood up when they started embarrassing you by singing a birthday song. It was starting to be a great day.

However, across the Hall was Fred glaring daggers at your best friends’ arm around you. He couldn't hear what was going on, either due to the fact that you were pretty far from where he sat, or from jealous rage. “Freddie, you alright?” George asked his brother. “Yeah, just fine, Georgie.” He couldn't stand Flint. He would be enraged with every glance towards you, every whisper in your ear during class, and every time he made you laugh. Fred was sure that Flint was in love with you, but because you grew up with him you were too blind to see it. He was convinced that at any given moment, your ‘best friend’ would take advantage of you.

What also made him upset is that not only did you let Flint wrap his arm around you, you didn't even come say hi to your boyfriend. You always came every morning to his table to give him a morning kiss and sometimes even sat at the Gryffindor table.

In potions class, you sat and waited for your boyfriend to come through the doors. You weren't sure what to expect from him. Fred is an absolute wild card and could come through those doors with anything. And no matter what he brought, he’d for sure get in trouble with Snape.

When he walked through the doors with his brother and Lee, you sat up straight in your seat and waved at him. He saw you, but instead of smiling at you and taking the seat next to yours, he just looked away and sat on the other side of the room. Did something happen? You chose to ignore it until lunch rolled around and he still hadn't come up to you to even say ‘hi’ to you. Had he forgotten your birthday? It could happen, but that doesn't explain why he looked to be in a bad mood.

Once your classes were finished, you walked up the changing stairs and said the password to the Gryffindor dorms. You remembered the updated password your boyfriend gave you the week before and it was your first time using it today.

You didn't know what to expect to see; you secretly wished that today was just a big prank and Fred had actually planned a surprise party of some sort. But when you stepped foot into the room filled with tones of red and gold, there was no party. Just Fred laughing with his friends like normal. Normal without you.

Lee’s laugh died down when he noticed you walking up to Fred. He noticed Lee getting quiet all of a sudden and asked him, “Why are you quiet all of a sudden?” He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around. “What are you doing in here?”

“Why, are Slytherins not allowed inside?” you joked. Your voice was slightly quiet and had a slight sad tone to it. “I missed you today, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. I've just been busy. Like you have,” Fred didn't mean to sound so bitter, but he was getting tired of it. He was tired of being second best to Flint.

“What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You've been with Flint all day,” Fred explained himself. You rolled your eyes, two fingers grabbing the temple of your nose from it suddenly starting to become irritated like you were. “Merlin, this again? Freddie, we talked about this. Marcus is just a friend. He's my best friend.”

Fred scoffed, “Y/N/N, you may think that but he doesn't. You trust him too much to see it, but I do. He's not just a friend.”

“You’re friends with Angelina when you know she likes you. And I know it too, but I don't say anything because I don't want to be that girlfriend who controls her boyfriends,” you were tired of playing this game with him. Your voice was heard by everyone in the room and soon enough, tons of peers had all eyes on you. Some either decided to stay, and some like Neville decided to head straight into their dorm rooms and lock the door for safety.

“Me being friends with Angelina is nothing like you being friends with Flint and you know that,” Fred raised his voice louder than anyone’s probably heard him. George and Lee silently guided people out of the common room and up to the dorms. Some people looked over the stairs to get a view of the commotion downstairs. One of them being Angelina herself when she heard her name being called out.

“No you’re right, it's different because he’s not pining over me and waiting for me to become available,” your arms were flailing about in anger, pointing at nothing to put emphasis in your words.

“How many times do I have to say I don’t like Ang? It’s never going to happen!” Angelina heard from up the staircase. Everyone heard him, loud and clear. She ran into her dorm and slammed the door so hard that you could feel the walls shake. “Great,” Fred sighed in frustration. It wasn't the ideal way to let someone down. He intended on talking to her in private without listening ears so she wouldn't be embarrassed.

“I'm not saying you like Angelina. I know you don’t like Angelina. What I’m saying is that you’re wrong about Marcus. I know he doesn't like me, you're just acting insecure,” you yelled back at him..

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to see he has feelings for you, Y/N/N,” Fred yelled, “I see the way he looks at you in every class and in the Hall. But you’re too fucking stupid to see–,” he immediately stopped what he was saying.

You couldn't believe what he was telling you right now. You could handle him calling you naive, but stupid? This was low, even for him.

You were getting stares from everyone in the common room. Your pride was more than hurt in this moment; it was destroyed. No words came from your mouth as you were completely still in your seat on the couch. Your nails dug into your skin as it was formed into a tight fist. But the worst of all was that your lips were quivering and you had to fight the tears on your birthday.

Your fucking birthday.

“Well if it bothers you so much, then fine. I'll fix the problem,” you started to speak low for only him to hear you.

“How?”

“I’ll end the problem,” a single tear escaped and trailed down your cheeks. This was the last thing you wanted to do today, but you couldn't take it anymore. He was scared to ask, but his ego got in the way, “And what's the problem?”

“Us,” you stated. He started saying something, but you couldn't hear it as you left. No, you actively ignored everything he was saying at that point. The second you were outside, you started bawling. And you kept at it all the way to the Slytherin common room and into your room.

You paced around your room rubbing your hands on your arms to try and calm yourself down, but nothing was working. Before you even processed it, your legs took you to Marcus’ room without second thought. You continuously knocked on his door until he answered, shirtless and with sweatpants that looked like they were just thrown on.

“Listen, I know it’s your birthday but that doesn't mean that you can do whatever you want–,” he focused in on your face and saw your red cheeks and puffy eyes. You looked behind him and there was a girl with him who sat in his bed looking curious. He looked back to her and just simply ordered, “Out,” which got her moving in seconds.

Once she was gone, he pulled you in and shut his door. Marcus guided you to a black leather chair in his room. “Sit,” his voice was stern, but never harsh with you. “What happened?”

As if by cue, you broke down completely. “It's o-o-over.”

“What is?” he questioned. But piecing it together, there's only one reason you'd be this upset in his room.

He never really knew what to do in situations like when you'd have your usual arguments, always just telling you that everything will be fine and you and Fred would be fine in the morning.

But now, he was feeling two things. One, slight heartache that his best friend is upset in front of him and two, nearly absolute rage that Fred is such an idiot.

Marcus started rubbing your back, “Hey, look at me.” When you shook your head no, he gently tapped on your shoulders until you did. “You are gonna be fine. Okay? You will be fine. There's plenty of other guys here–”

“I don't want to be with other guys, Marcus. I want Fred. I love Fred. But,” you shrugged up both hands, “I don't know. I don't know.” Your best friend pulled you in for a hug.

“Hey, sleep here tonight. You shouldn't be alone right now, especially today.” You nodded your head and kept crying until you couldn't anymore.

—

“HEY!” Marcus’ voice traveled beyond the corridors. Students were fleeing left and right to move out of his way as he made a straight line towards the group of Gryffindors who sat around a tree outside.

Before they could react to what was going on, Marcus punched one of the tall gingers in his abdomen. “OW, what was that for?!”

“You're going to apologize to Y/N right now,” Marcus demanded.

“You idiot, I'm George,” he corrected, still bent over and leaning on Lee for balance. “Shit, sorry.” Marcus looked at Fred and punched him in the same area quicker before Fred could block it. “You're going to apologize to Y/N.”

With a strain in his voice, Fred looked at the Slytherin in front of him, “What for, she broke up with me.”

“Okay, why? Because you're pathetic and insecure.”

“Is that what she told you?” Fred straightened himself up rubbing on the pain. “Of course she told you, she tells you everything.”

“Yeah, why wouldn't she? I'm her cousin,” Marcus pointed out. If he wasn't so mad, he would laugh at Fred's look of astonishment.

“No, you have different family names. And you don't even look related,” Fred wasn't buying it.

“That's because when I was eight, my dad married her aunt. I'm still her cousin,” Marcus explained.

“She never told me anything, how was I supposed to know?” Fred complained. George and his other friends left the two to argue by themselves but stood at a close enough distance to hear the conversation and be able to jump in if it were to get violent.

“Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you would actually pay attention to her,” Marcus used his pointer finger to push against Fred’s forehead which caused the ginger to swat his hand away. “So get over whatever complex you have and apologize. If I'm being honest, there's plenty of Slytherins that can treat her better but she wants you for some reason.”

Fred knew he was right. And it was that reason why he always felt the way he did. You were enamored by many housemates, all handsome and rich. But you didn't like any of them. You love Fred. You love the lanky, devious, modestly handsome, funny Gryffindor more than anyone you've ever met.

Fred didn't say anything and walked away. His brother was asking where he was going but he didn't answer. Before he was out of Marcus’ sight, the Slytherin said one last thing, “By the way, I hope you know it was her birthday yesterday.”

Fuck. He picked up his pace and ran towards the dungeons. Halfway there, he figured that he didn't want to show up empty handed, so he made a detour to the greenhouse to 'borrow’ some flowers from Sprout’s personal garden.

You sat on one of the couches in your common room. Across from you was Adrian and Terence, arguing about some Ravenclaw girl. Some younger students passed by and whispered amongst themselves to which you didn't pay any mind to until you heard a third year say something about a Weasley being outside.

You knew it wasn't Ron because after his second year break in with Harry, he vowed that he'd never do it again. You stood up and nearly sprinted outside.

Fred was standing awkwardly outside. He tried to get a student to ask for you to come outside but they would all just scrunch their noses in disgust and keep walking. “Annoying little–”

“What are you doing here?” you asked. Your arms were crossed and you slouched your shoulders a bit. Fred noticed how your cheeks were swollen and the bags under your eyes were tinted a rosy pink. In his left hand, there was a single, large sunflower. He raised it in front of you, hoping you would accept it. “You know I’m allergic to those, right?”

Fred’s eyes bulged out. There is no way I didn't know this. Figuring he’s had enough torture, you spoke again, “I’m joking.”

“O-oh. Heh.” You grabbed the flower from him. “I’m… really sorry. I was such an arse–”

“You are an arse,” you corrected. “Yeah, you’re right. I should have trusted Flint. I should have trusted you. And if you’d let me, I want to prove that I do.”

You released a deep sigh and rubbed your forehead. “Freddie. You have to mean it this time. I can't keep going back and forth with you like this. You can't throw a fit every time I hang out with Marcus. Or Adrian. Or Terence.”

“So is that a yes?” Fred persisted. You looked at him properly in his eyes; he seemed sincere this time. And you could only hope that he was. With a nod of your head, Fred broke into smiles and picked you up from the floor and twirled you around. Your head was still sore from all the crying the night before, but you still had a smile on your face.

When he put you down, he took the hand that wasn't holding the flower and walked with you to the Great Hall for food. “So when were you going to tell me that Flint is your cousin?”

“I figured you’d find out at a family gathering or something had you waited a little longer.” He pinched your nose in response, “And you call me devious.”

—

requests open!

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #requested #requests open #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #fred x slytherin!reader #harry potter imagine

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