#i need like five shots after using that art program

[pending-dope-username]

So I decided to do something fun this year and join in a giant collab thing!! So this is my piece for the Gravity Falls Halloween Zine 2024 hosted by @howtokillavampire !!! The official submission is the fully rendered digital piece but I wanted to have a little comic to go alongside it for y'all as well. I got tired so the comic is just a traditional art piece instead of digital. It might become digital at a later date. Idk. Enjoy!!!!

(please excuse the weird formatting of the comic I did my best, I'm tired.)

[thetraumaking]

Accursed Crown: ATLA x Reader

Child soldier program within the Fire Nation. Princess Ursa will be having the first grandchild of fire lord Azulon, and as a gift, he sends his son, prince Ozai, to find an appropriate bodyguard for the mother of the nation.

After prince Zuko was born, princess Ursa became pregnant once more.

When she gave birth to her second. Not only did she suffer from a burn from the newborn, she didn't feel the motherly love she felt for her firstborn to her second. She couldn't hold her or even look at her. But she's not a cruel woman, so she found a wet nurse and let the other woman raise her. Well, that was the plan until for a whole day straight the baby girl wouldn't and couldn't stop crying. Even Ozai heard it and came to yell at Ursa for failing as a mother.

When the child had finally shutten up, Ozai turned to see the young guard gently holding the baby.

From that day onward, you, who was nothing but a child soldier, became the guard, the nursemaid, and mentor for the new princess.

NOT for the faint of heart!!!

Chapter 2: Old Child Chapter 3: Her Touch

Chapter 1: Prologue

Within a quiet little village, in the eastmost part of the fire nation, with a single torch illuminating a small hut, a new mother came to be. Her eyes filled with love and adoration as she lay next to her newborn.

‘You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You’ll never know, dear

How much I love you‘

Her voice lulled the child to sleep as her hand rubbed small circles on the baby's belly.

‘Please don’t take

My sunshine away’

Once Fire Lord Azulon assented to the throne, he passed down a “Nation's Calling.”

The Fire Nation child soldier program.

Children from unsavoury backgrounds or children from the slums were forcibly taken by the ‘collectors.’ To be trained in the art of combat and strategy.

For the greater good of the nation, those of the middle class and higher are more than accepting of the small sacrifice their people must make.

Your breath came out ragged as you dodged another punch to the face. The sudden movement makes you lose your balance as it provides an opportunity for your instructor to strike.

His foot landed hard on your stomach, you could taste your evening rations in your mouth.

Wheezing for air, you roll to the side. For every five of your strikes only two lands. And for every two, one of your instructor’s attacks lands a hit.

“Not bad, but you need to be faster than that to get your next badge, trainee number 076.” His grip on your arm is as tight as a vice. Pulling you off of the training ground for the next group to start their training. “For your age group, you’re not half bad.”

His praise meant nothing to you.

Throughout your years within the camp, it has been drilled into your and your peers’ heads that you along with the instructors are nothing but tools. A tool that must be sharpened and refined, only to be replaced and thrown away once they outlived their use.

You yourself have gone through a couple of instructors this past six years.

The earliest memory you have is being branded by your identification number. Trainee Number 076 from the first battalion second training company fourth squad. That is what you are, nothing more and nothing less. A child soldier groomed to serve the royal family. You are to serve and protect the great Fire Nation and those who rule it.

Failure is not an option.

“076,” your attention was brought back up to the older male, “I want you to focus more on your footwork. You can stay calm under pressure, that’s good, but your reaction is a bit off.” He explained.

The room he brought you to looked like an empty basement. Metal flooring, no windows, and nothing flammable in sight. “But don’t worry, we’ll work on it now.”

Before you could ask him anything, he shot a fireball at you. You felt the heat graze your cheek.

The blast illuminated the room just a bit before it went dark once more. The smell of burning hair lingered as he got into an offensive stance. His eyes glistened with something that made your skin crawl.

Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself for yet another rocky night.

It was a couple of months shy of a full year since the union of Prince Ozai and Princess Ursa when wonderful news fell upon the Fire nation.

The princess is with child.

Pleased with the news, Fire Lord Azulon looked back to the report he had been receiving on the progression of his camp. Collecting the scroll for the top nine candidates, he ordered his son, Prince Ozai, to go and take his pick for his wife.

The last assignment for the children to finish their training was to take out their prospective mentors once they had earned all their badges. Their accomplishments will be announced through a gold phoenix pendant that will be displayed on their chests. Depending on how detailed the phoenix is, the higher the ranking and skilled the soldier is.

Adored by your pendant, you stand by along with eight others. Each with differently defined pendants, only one that had the same details as yours. Red ruby eyes, each feather of the firebird carefully crafted and soldered, its beak shined and polished, talons sharpened and refined.

As you all filed in attention, the prince of your proud nation stood. Eyes sharp, carefully inspecting each and every one of you. He points at you and the one next to you. Ordering that the two of you to duel, to once and for all, know who exactly is deserving of the golden phoenix.

The next time you saw the prince and your supposed opponent was at the arena. The prince with his advisors and guards sat atop of the stadium.

Once the bell had been rung, the duel began.

Blow after blow, you masterfully evaded all of his strikes. Outside of the roaring flames and the occasional grunts and pants, the arena was in complete silence.

Nausea, fatigue, muscle ache, and overuse of your bending. Your wrists and arms sore from sporadic movements, legs aching as you drag each knee over hard molten rocks to evade and block. Bringing your fist forward, you shoot a blast of flames right past his nose.

And in a single moment of his panic, you took advantage, bringing your foot up, you slam it against his chin. You feel a crunch under your boot as you see his jaw move to the side at an unnatural angle. With a swollen chin and bleeding gums with missing teeth, your opponent now lay unconscious on the ground.

A pool of blood with bits of pearly whites was the only thing your eyes could focus on. The scent of iron and burnt flesh fills the air as the sounds of the roaring flames are now replaced with those of the roaring crowd.

With a sigh, you raise your fist in the air. Scarred, worn, burnt hands, stained with years' worth of blood and shame. Bright red blood cascaded down your forearm, the sticky liquid became your only source of warmth in the cold autumn air.

Like the warm-colored leaves falling from their trees, your own warmth drips down, one by one to the ground.

As your reward, you were taken to the palace. Rewarded by the honor of being the guard of the nation’s mother. Protecting her from any harm that may threaten her wellbeing.

076, the number that was branded onto your face, the number that serves you as your name, was now painted onto the black vale you wore over your face. Dressed in your new uniform, you stand in front of her Highness, Princess Ursa.

“I have prepared a gift for you.“ With a smirk, the prince places a hand on your shoulder, and immediately, you salute. Your vale brushes against the tips of your fingers as you bow to the princess. “Since you are carrying my heir, we have decided it would be best to give you a guard.” He looks down on you as he continues, “076 here has been under training since the age of three. I have personally seen her capabilities so I know that she will do a fine job.”

Not a word left the woman’s mouth, she didn’t even look up to see either you or the prince. Quietly, she nodded a thanks to the prince.

There was only one word to describe the princess, pitiful. She was utterly pitiful. Something that a queen of a powerful nation such as yours should never be close to.

For the past month you have been with her, ready to be at her beck and call, you noticed how beautifully pathetic she is. You know you shouldn’t be thinking such blasphemous things but how can you not when those forbidden thoughts are taking form right in front of you?

As you stand on guard by her Highness’s chambers, watching as the maids attend to her, you clench your fist.

No matter how many jewels they decorated her with or how expensive or how high-quality silk she may wear, the blatant sadness in her eyes was like a bucket of waste splattered on a canvas. Yet no one, like you, has spoken a word about it. The closest thing to joy was whenever she was alone in her room when her hand gently patted her own pregnant belly. Something close to a smile would be present on her lips as she hummed a tune.

The tune itself was slower than the one you know.

The maids left once they finished attending to the lady. Now, it was just you and the princess. You noted that there wasn’t a tense silence in the room.

“6, sit down for a bit. You’ve been standing there for five hours now.” Fortunately, the month you spent with her wasn’t for naught. You could tell that she has been slowly getting accustomed to your presence in her everyday life.

You nod and walk up to her. She looks up at you from her vanity chair, her eyes once weary now more at peace.

Kneeling, you sat on the floor. Hands neatly folded on your thighs as you hang your head low, awaiting for any more instructions.

You feel warm fingers on your jaw as it guides you to look up. As she slowly peels your veil off, for the first time, you let out a sigh as a cool breeze hits your face.

You watch her as her eyes take in your face. Her thumb runs on the branded number on your cheek as a dull ache spreads from every heartbeat in your chest.

She furrows her brows, and the scarred tissue on your face makes her heartache. What horrors have you faced at that camp? What tortures have you gone through for the sake of this accursed nation? And what poor souls have gotten their dear child stolen from them?

She felt pity for you, sorrow that you were robbed of love. Pain from the countless scars and burns on your young skin. Guilt for the empty eyes that are staring up at her.

And happiness that she has you by her side.

[theshadowsnetwork]

Her phone rang only once. "You're on speaker," Eleanor answered while she busied herself with packing her rifle. "The director is in the room."

Deborah hesitated. "...Madam Director. I'm pleased to hear you're doing better--"

"Madam Director?" Pan cackled. "Let's...let's not make that a thing, especially with you. 'Pan' will suffice. What can we do for you?"

"Okay..." Deborah began. "There is a security issue at the hall. We have an ocean-fairing object bearing approximately 050 degrees off the eastern shoreline."

"More art," assumed Eleanor.

"We have a reconditioning initiate here in security that believes otherwise," Deborah replied. "I'm with her now. We're on the beach with a surveillance drone."

Eleanor and Pan shared a look. "It seems like you're handling it. What do you need from us?"

Deborah carried the phone to the drone case where Jasmine looked out to sea.

It was only the fourth or fifth time Jasmine had seen the sky since her arrest. Her shoulders were tense, her wrists and ankles bound in cuffs. She could never be too sure if she were going to be escorted back to her apartment, or a transport bound for the pillbox. She was the brass's least favorite initiate at the moment, in no small part due to her actions. But her peers? Her peers were fond of her--also due to her actions.

Deborah sat the phone down on the case near Jasmine and her handler Savannah. "You're on with the Director and Eleanor."

The words made Jasmine's heart skip a beat. It was either this worked, or a frozen prison cell in Antarctica. "Madam Director--"

"Pan. Please."

Jasmine struggled to swallow. "Ms. Doi."

"Fair enough. How can Eleanor and I help you?"

"Ms. Doi, I am one of the clerks assigned to border security. I and my group were in charge of coastal watch, keeping an eye out for naval presences and, eventually, collecting any Deng Jia pieces that crashed ashore."

"And you think that this is something other than a Deng Jia dinghy?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes," Jasmine continues. "There is a jagged rock formation about 40 nautical miles out that Sieri Lycar has to avoid. At least five of the dinghies hit them, so they started launching them further south. But this craft sailed through them and continued at its current speed. It's also much faster than their dinghies and its radar reflection is stronger, which suggests it's much larger."

"Both of which suggest it's a manned vessel," Eleanor replied.

"Yes. I wanted to investigate further, but Chief Warrick wouldn't have it."

Pan's brow furrowed. "Why??"

Jasmine opened her mouth but couldn't find the words. But Deborah was willing and able. "You may recall Jasmine Ellis's campaign against the Child Conditioning Program a year or so before London. Opponents against the program rallied around Ellis to release children who were given or sold to the Shadows for training. One of the initiates helping her was Warrick's adopted daughter, Meredith Kim. Jasmine helped Meredith escape capture, and to this day, remains at large. Jasmine was stripped of her title and after being held in the Pillbox while the events and fallout in London unfolded, she was finally sent here to be a clerk."

There was a long, pregnant pause on both ends. "I see," Pan replied. "So, Warrick has a personal issue with you that is interfering with his work."

Jasmine opened her mouth to agree but ultimately said nothing. There was much she could say about Warrick, much she disliked about him and his treatment of the women in his life, much less, the women that worked for him. But it wasn't the time. "I was concerned about the object, so I flew a drone over the sea to investigate further. Warrick flagged it immediately, shot it down, and confined me to my apartment, pending transfer back to the Pillbox. 'Unauthorized use of Security Tech' Like he needed a reason to lock me up anyway--" Jasmine clamped her mouth shut.

"I see." Pan reached for her phone and sent a short email. "I'm authorizing a drone flight. Gather what data you can. Deborah, report back to me when we learn anything. I expect to hear from you before the evening closes."

"Yes, Ma'am," they both said.

"And Ms. Ellis," Pan concluded. "We'll talk about your situation at a later date. But you will not be a prisoner in your own home. While I cannot permit you to leave Lux without a formal inquiry into your case, you are allowed to roam it at your leisure. Stay close to your phone, I'll need of you soon."

Jasmine's heart began to steady itself. "Yes ma'am."

"Get started, right away. We need to know what's out there." The line went dead.

--

Pan paused for a moment. She searched Eleanor's face for...something.

"...what?" Eleanor chuckled nervously.

"Her Majesty the Queen placed you on a doorstep and you became a Shadow instead of a princess," Pan said. "If given the choice, would you have changed anything?"

Eleanor's brow furrowed. "...no. But I'm sure many others in Child Conditioning would have loved to have a choice...if they were old enough to make such decisions when they were..." The words turned to gravel in her mouth.

"There's so much...wrong in this organization. Wrong that we are just supposed to be ok with. Wrong that my father helped perpetuate." Pan shook her head. "No one else gets taken. No one. Child Conditioning is over."

@shadedjasmine

[yourdeepestfathoms]

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

---------------------------------------

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

[mochegato]

The Road to Asphodel is Paved in Pink

Meet Cute Monday for @boldlyanxious  Hope this makes you smile!

Pink boxes, pink bags, pink dolls, pink instruments, pink goo, pink Legos, pink cars, pink, pink, pink. Everything in the aisle was pink. A hundred different shades of it filled the shelves of the aisle.  Everywhere he looked was pink.  They even put down a pink covering on the floor just to complete the look.  Honestly, it was starting to hurt his eyes.  “Who knew there were so many shades of pink,” Jason grumbled rubbing his eyes.  

He heard a chuckle from down the aisle.  “Trust me it’s worse when it’s an aisle of the same shade of pink.  Like some kind of never-ending fuchsia tunnel to Asphodel.” She shuddered slightly.  “And I like pink.”

“I take it you have experience with this?”  He vaguely motioned around the aisle.

She bobbed her head to the side and hummed noncommittally.  “My friend’s twins will be six this year.  I get them things from time to time just because, so I end up here sometimes.  I’m looking for their birthday this time.  I was thinking of instruments they could play with their moms or their grandpa, but just realized they probably have so many instruments already, so now I’m looking for inspiration.  But the only inspiration I’m getting is pink. Annoying really.  Because apparently that’s the only color girls respond to.”

“I think it’s damaging my retinas,” he chuckled looking back at the shelves of pink.

She chuckled and nodded in agreement before returning her attention to the shelves around her. Jason looked back over at her as she searched the shelves.  He really should be focusing on Lian’s gift.  Her party started soon so he didn’t have time to waste flirting with random women in the toy aisle, but his eyes kept wandering back to her.  It could be because they wanted a break from the sea of pink attempting to sear his eyes, but more likely it was because she was stunning and looking at her made him feel lighter.  

After a few minutes she quirked her head to the side and grabbed a box.  She puckered her lips as she looked toward it, her eyes unfocused and her brow furrowed as though planning.  Jason watched her face run through a few expressions as she thought through whatever she was planning, each expression cuter than the last one. Finally she gave a quick nod and dropped the box into her shopping basket.

“Finally figured it out huh?” he smiled at her.

“Yeah.  They like playing with hair so I’m going to get this hair glitter and chalk set and some of the Hello Kitty brushes I saw by the entrance and make a bunch of barrettes and headbands.”  She grinned proudly at him.  “And not one of the damn things will be pink in retaliation against all of this.”  She motioned around them.

He barked out a laugh and nodded appreciatively.  “Damn. That’s a really good idea.  But Lian isn’t quite there yet.”

She smiled and moved so she was standing closer to him, close enough now that he could run his fingers along her jaw if he wanted.  Well, not if he wanted because he did want, rather if he thought it would be received well.  His fingers twitched to try until he finally had to clench them into fists to stop them.  “Okay, well… what does she like?  I mean, if you want some help.  I know you didn’t ask…”

“No!  No, please.  Please help me.”  He gave her a charming smile before reminding himself what her question was.  He sighed and pulled out his phone to check his texts. “I don’t know…  He said she likes ‘girl things’.”

“Girl things…” she repeated slowly with an unamused raised eyebrow.  “Like saws and computer programs and syringes?  Or things girls didn’t invent just enjoy?”

Jason stared at her for a few seconds before chuckling and looking back at the toys with a sheepish smile. “I don’t think that’s what the idiot meant.”

“So I take it this isn’t your daughter?”

“No.  My best friend’s daughter.”

“Okay, well, your best friend is no help at all.  No offense.” She gave him a smirk that suggested she didn’t really care if she did offend. He smiled back at her and nodded in agreement with her assessment.  “What do you know about her?” she continued.  “How old will she be?”

“She’s turning four,” he started slowly, trying to order all his memories into a useful resource.  “She’s smart.  She likes engines and coloring and painting.  She LOVES cats.  Her favorite color is red.”

Marinette nodded.  “She sounds very smart and artistic.”

“Yeah.  She is constantly painting pictures for me.  My first thought was a book, a children’s classic she could keep for a while, but she recognizes letters but can’t read yet. So that’s out,” he grumbled.

“I don’t know, it sounds like you have two perfect gifts there.” He looked at her questioningly.  “More paint so she can paint more pictures for you,” her voice became increasingly excited as she thought through the gift. “There are art kits a few aisles over or there’s an art store a few doors down.  Or a book, just because she can’t read it doesn’t mean you can’t read it to her, and I bet she’ll think that’s even better.  Or you could do both.  I’m sure there are tons of kids’ books about painting or colors that you could get along with some paint.”

He nodded as he thought about what book to get her and what art supplies.  “That’s…” his words trailed off as he looked back up at her. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement and the only thing he could think was “…perfect.”

She cocked her head to the side and watched him curiously.  “Hmm?”

He shook his head quickly. “Your idea, it’s perfect.  Thank you for helping me.  I’m Jason by the way.”  He held his hand out to shake hers.

She shook his hand with a brilliant smile.  “Hi Jason. It’s nice to meet you.  I’m Marinette.”

“Which would you recommend for the art supplies?” He asked, hoping to draw out the conversation.

She puckered her lips as she thought about it.  “Depends on what she has already and how seriously she takes her art.  There’s plenty here for a four year old.  But, if she knows the difference between shades and gets upset she can’t get the exact color she wants, like I did at that age, you might want a more complete set than is available here.  Or if the brushes aren’t doing what she wants, there will be more options at the art store.”

He grinned at the thought of a four year old version of Marinette stomping her feet in frustration because she couldn’t get the right shade of pink on her painting.  “Sounds like you were really into art.”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I was very… particular.” She shrugged and brushed her bangs behind her ear.  “Still am.”

“So you’re an artist,” he prompted her.

She gave him a relieved smile, grateful for a change in topic.  “A designer, yeah.  You?”

“A… uh… bodyguard.  So you know, if your body needs guarding, let me know.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette laughed and shook her head as she looked down.  “I’ve got it covered but thanks for the offer.”

He pouted slightly. That was one of his better lines.  Clearly a different approach would be necessary, one less superficial and more honest, one more conducive to starting an actual relationship, which he didn’t mind in the least.  “What do you design?”

“Clothing.”  She smiled brightly up at him.

He shot her a crooked smile and leaned closer to her.  “Ah… so you’ve been silently judging my outfit for the last five minutes or so.”

“Longer than that,” she smirked at him.

He perked up and shot a smug smile at her.  “Sounds like you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she consoled him wryly.  “Your outfit isn’t that bad.”

He pursed his lips for a moment before bursting out into laughter.  “Can I talk you into helping me pick out some paint supplies and a book? Maybe I can repay you somehow?”

“Yeah, I can do that. No repayment necessary.  I want to make sure Lian, was it?” She looked to him uncertainly.  He nodded at her.  She nodded with a smile.  “I wouldn’t want Lian to end up with something in terrible taste.”

“Hey!  I have great taste.”  He objected with a mock offended scoff.

She looked him up and down playfully.  “Yeah, sure you do.”

He laughed again, his laughter echoing off the pink around them.  He took a step closer to her.  “Did you want to come with me to the party, too?  You’re helping pick out the gift after all.  It’s only fair you get to join in the spoils.”

She smiled shyly, but didn’t back away.  “No thank you.  It sounds like a really special event for your friend.  I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m sure my friend would welcome another adult there to help corral the chaos, but I understand not wanting to go.”  He moved a step closer again, his eyes becoming softer.  “But, since you’re going to miss out on the cake and food, how about I take you out to dinner instead to thank you for your help?  I really would have been lost if you hadn’t helped.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him.  “I’d like that.”

[sunjaesol]

My BFB is the one for me!

juke | human!au + brother!reggie | title from BFB // victorious

If someone had to ask her who the one constant in her life was, she would have to say Luke Patterson. Which was depressing, cause the guy went through life pretending to be a 90s heartthrob and, even worse, that list didn't even include her own mother. 

Julie met Luke when she was five and he was six. Her brother Reggie befriended him on the first day of school and the rest was history. "Soul-brothers" they called themselves, which would be cute if they weren't so obnoxious together. Separate, they were somewhat manageable. Put those two in the same room? Chaos would ensue. 

He was there for it all. Weekly play dates, birthdays, the occasional holiday, her mom's funeral, band rehearsals. And when Luke had a month-long falling out with his parents, he stayed with them. 

Realistically, that should make him seem like a brother to Julie. But neither Carlos or Reggie were as infuriating as Luke was! With the stupid band tees and the stupid smile and the stupid, relentless teasing he lovingly bestowed upon her. She lost count how many times he "poisoned" her soda with salt or woke her with a heart attack by playing his electric guitar. At least she had some grip on her brothers, being their only sister, but Luke… 

Luke and her had this interesting, little relationship that she couldn't quite put her finger on and it unnerved her. Like it was an itch she couldn't scratch. (Or maybe he was just an annoying mosquito buzzing around her and should leave her the fuck alone. Probably.)

Hopping down the stairs for her midnight snack, it was no surprise to her to find the idiot gaping into the fridge like a goon. With a nudge of the hip, she pushed him aside. 

'Hey!' 

'Either pick something or save power,' she retorted, grabbing a bowl of grapes. 

He snorted. 'I don't think my indecisiveness is gonna kill the planet.'

She shot him a look, an amused smile tugging on her lips. 'You wanna say that in the cute face of a polar bear?' 

Luke stared at her for a beat, a smile crawling on his own face and shaking his head with a chuckle. The fridge fell shut with the pride of a won argument swelling in her chest. 

'So why're you still up?', he asked as she flitted around him for the bread and peanut butter. Maybe she could sneak up a butterscotch cookie too - her dad won't notice one missing, right? 

Unscrewing the lid, she sighed. 'Mendoza's class is murdering me. I really don't get why we need to learn calculus. We're an arts school, not like any of us are going to use formulas on the set of a movie.'

When she passed him to get the orange juice from the fridge, he took hold of the jar, sliding it between his hands thoughtfully. 

'Just don't overthink it,' he shrugged. 

She rolled her eyes. 'Easy for you, obviously.'

His mouth fell slack, offended, as Julie put the bottle on the island with mirth glimmering in her expression. After years of sparring with Luke, she knew how to press his buttons and took great joy in doing so. 

Suddenly leaning into her personal bubble, he sputtered. 'Are you… calling me dumb?' 

Her hand pushed his face back with a scoff. 'Don't breathe on me. All I'm saying is that you look like you have elevator music playing up there 24/7.'

When she went to grab the jar from his hand, he moved it away. 

'Uh, I think you're mistaking me for your brother.'

'No-' Tried again, moved away. '-I don't think I do.'

'You do.'

She crossed her arms, resolute. 'He's part of the gifted program.'

It unfazed him. 'Yeah. And it means shit.'

She held her palm up, exasperated. 'Just give me the peanut butter, Luke.'

Raising it over his head with an infuriating smirk, the other tugged on a curl. 'No.'

Gah! He was so dead! Did he forget she lived with three men in this house?!

Without a second of hesitation, Julie barrelled into him and jumped to catch it. Luke snatched her wrist before she could with a laugh, a hitched puff coming right after as her elbow jabbed his ribs. 

He set the jar down at lightning speed and grabbed her other wrist. Both their arms were outstretched as her foot kicked his calf, hard. When he yelped, her left hand loosened and dove for the jar. Right as her fingertips grazed the glass, a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back. An "oof!" left her lips, the breath kicked out of her lungs. 

Luke guffawed in her ear victoriously, whooping the house together. Curse words rolled off her tongue as she repeatedly slapped his forearm to let go. She felt embarrassingly small with her feet hovering above the floor and this power dynamic was not doing it for her confidence. 

'The fuck are you doing?' 

Julie smacked to the floor before the last words were uttered, a flabbergasted Reggie staring at the pair. 

Luke stammered. 'Uh…' 

'Your bestie held the peanut butter hostage,' Julie replied sardonically. 'Did dad wake up?' 

He shook his head, a peculiar expression fixed on Luke. Her gaze shot between the two. Were they having… a silent conversation? With the way their brows quirked an lips twitched, it seemed like some "bro-talk" Julie wouldn't even like to understand. 

'Don't break your head too much over Mendoza, okay?' Reggie added, smiling at her this time. 'Just relax.'

She sighed. Relax. Because the fear of failure got eradicated with the snap of a finger if she just relaxed. 'Yeah. Sure.'

The boys finally left, silence descended, and Julie made her sandwich. For some reason, the quietude made her uncomfortable. 

***

Though Luke was annoying at times, the band he was in - Sunset Curve - definitely wasn't. Reggie, Alex and Luke created it when they were thirteen and overzealous. Reggie and Luke met Alex the same year and bullied him into a friendship, all bonding over cliché lyrics and overused chord progressions. They quickly got better though, earning a small following and a hopeful future in the LA scene. Julie was very proud of her brother. All those hours practicing the bass until his fingers bled was finally paying off with each new gig they rocked. 

And as the Molina's were raised to appreciate good music, Julie often found herself sprawled on the leather couch as they rehearsed. Reggie used to hate it, saying she was being "sticky" and "distracting", but eventually found her useful whenever they needed someone to bounce ideas with. She has co-written many of their songs. It was then that Luke was the least annoying, when he was so entranced and passionate about music that he had no time to pester her. 

(If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that song-writing with Luke was when she felt like herself the most, enjoyed life the most. But Luke was stupid and she definitely didn't feel a vibe when they wrote, so honesty was obsolete.)

'Or else you'll get,' Luke growled in the mic, music crashing together in their signature punk-rock sound. 'Crooked teeth!' 

They shot into an electrifying interlude. Alex headbanging the sweat of his forehead from his fast-paced drumming, Reggie bouncing in his heels as he heightened the bassline and Luke… was being Luke. Julie looked up from her laptop as his strumming came closer, that signature grin fixed on her as his fingers expertly glided across the neck. Her typing paused, amused. 

Why was he so adamant about "impressing" her with a riff? He knew she liked their music (and has caught her looking at his hands… ugh, fourteen year old Julie had bad judgement), he didn't have to prove himself or something. 

She smiled. 'You're going to miss your cue, idiot!' 

Ignoring her exclaim, he bobbed his head to the melody and wiggled his brows. Her eyes drifted to Alex, the blonde staring at Reggie and Reggie staring at the back of Luke's head. This has been happening a lot, Julie realised. There was this weird energy whenever they were all in the same room. For a bit, she thought it was her that was the problem, but if she was, Reggie would've told her by now. 

Now Luke was really in her face, pushing her laptop shut with his knee and making those stupid expressions he pulled whenever Grace talked to him in the hallway. Never one to back down, Julie abruptly stood up and pushed him back with a challenging smirk. The boy was seventeen; he was in serious trouble if he lacked the spatial awareness and common sense. 

‘Sing with us?!’, he pleaded over the crash of the cymbal. Behind him, Alex’ brows went so far up it disappeared into his snapback. A nervous tug knotted in her stomach at his request, like she was afraid to disappoint him, and shook her head. Keeping up the attitude she nodded at the laptop he so valiantly closed for her. 

Pulling it against her chest, she pointed at his bandmates. ‘Go sing about some fucked up teeth more!’

‘Crooked teeth!’, they all yelled in annoyance. Proud to have executed her role an irritating, little sister, she hopped out the studio. If she felt someone’s gaze burning in her back, she must’ve imagined it.  

***

There was something to be said about Grace and Luke. Though it wasn’t Julie’s business (or anyone’s, for that matter), the coupling has always intrigued her. Or lack of coupling, really. Every few months they’d find themselves at each other’s lockers flirting up a storm for everyone to see to then ghost each other again. This vicious cycle has been on loop since sophomore year. Julie felt bad for Grace, the pretty senior girl deserved far better than Luke. 

Last night, Julie couldn’t sleep. “Crooked Teeth” was blaring in her mind and haunted her dreams (and Luke’s stupid face) until she woke up in a sweat. Something was off. Like solving a math question and knowing the result is wrong but unsure where it all went wrong. Around four in the morning, it hit her. The bridge! It was all jumbled and clunky and she had far better ideas on how to craft it! She sat at her keyboard until seven in the morning, only to stop when a frustrated Carlos barged in, threw a pillow at her and yelled to “zip it!” Reggie and dad, naturally, slept through all of it. 

Now, a sleep-deprived, caffeinated and kind of manic Julie was bustling through the hallways trying (and failing) to find Luke. Sure, they butted heads a lot, but music has always been the glue. Temporary glue, but the fact remained that she and Luke were cut from the same cloth when it came to composition and lyrical prowess. (Not that she’d ever admit that. Ew. His ego was large enough as is.) 

And then she saw him. At Grace’s locker. Her breath lodged in her throat at the sight. It shouldn’t. God, it truly shouldn’t. But it did. Because Grace was pretty and Luke had one of those faces and they looked good together and it annoyed the fuck out of her. Like, who decided who went through puberty better. Julie knew she wasn’t unattractive, but she wasn’t Grace either. Tall and lithe and glossy black hair and a perfect nose. The ugly, green monster in the back of her head snarled about how her personality was probably off-putting, though Julie knew that to be untrue. Grace was, well, graceful. Genuinely kind. Gah! Since when did Julie hate on other girls? Pushing the voice down, she mustered back the previous excitement (the! bridge!) and paraded towards the pair. Luke saw her before Grace did.       

She rushed the last few steps and hastily grabbed the papers from the side pocket of her backpack. 'Luke! Hi, Grace. Okay, I know "Crooked Teeth" is finished, but I couldn't stop thinking about it and I had this amazing idea for the bridge.'

When he didn't react for a beat, stunned by her giddy attitude, her smile mellowed awkwardly. 'I mean… it's your song. You don't have to-' 

'No!', he shouted, frantic. Her brows raised in surprise. 'No, uh-' His hand flew to the back of his head, raking the ends of his hair. 'Yeah. D'you wanna go to the music room? To show me?'

Julie’s eyes flitted to a confused Grace. ‘Um…’

Luke caught on and shot the girl an easy grin. ‘Talk to you later, yeah?’ 

She shrugged. ‘I guess?’

Before she could say anything more, Luke snatched Julie by the wrist and dragged her to the nearest, open music room. The arts school was littered with them, though most had a reserved schedule. Luckily, one was empty. 

‘Okay,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears as she slid down in front of the piano. Luke sat next to her, expectant. ‘The bridge right now? It’s fine, but it’s not “wow”, you know? I was thinking about how the verses and chorus sound so visceral and loud, so the bridge should have something guttural. Like, primal. That’s a weird word to use, but, I don’t know, have it sound dangerous? Like - why’re you looking at me like that?’

A strange expression was plastered on Luke’s face. A half-grin and wide eyes, like he was scared he’d miss something, like he’d blink and she’d disappear. In other words: he looked insane. Then again, her exhaustion mustn’t look too appealing either. 

He shook his head, that smile falling away for something more timid. All the bravado he oozed while talking to Grace just moments before, was gone for shy eyes and fingers gripping the chain around his jeans. 

‘Nothing.’ He nudged her. ‘You kinda ambushed me here, Molina.’

Her words stuttered out. ‘I- I was just-’ Zeroing back on the keys with a frown, she said: ‘I’ll just play you the bridge.’

As she did, her mind was elsewhere. This wasn’t weird, right? They’ve done this before. Collaborated, gone to music rooms to bounce ideas back and forth, played until dusk. She knew it wasn’t weird. It was always just a matter of time before the next “ambush” came, as he put it. Soon, he’d barge into her room with half a melody and forced her to finish it. This was normal.

Then why did her skin ripple with anticipation from his intense gaze directed on her temple? 

When she finished, she kept her eyes on the keys. Suddenly, his hand appeared in her vision and softly patted her knuckles, urging her to look at him anyway. He had that strange look again, the sight letting the most peculiar feeling rush through her veins.   

Luke smiled. ‘I like it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Wanna play it for the boys during next rehearsal?’ His brows raised with hope, head leaning her way as if he wasn’t already close enough. And he wasn’t close enough. 

Julie went on autopilot at this point, too enthralled by her emotions running wild. ‘Yeah.’ It came out breathy and foolish and if she had half a brain cell right now, she’d kick herself in the face for how dumb she sounded.  

His hand squeezed hers and then let go, that smile turning nervous. Oh God, did he notice how weird she abruptly got? ‘Cool. Sweet. Perfect. Your- this was perfect. I’ll see you, uh, -’

‘Yeah,’ she squeaked. ‘Whenever.’

When he left the room in a hurry, her face planted itself on the keys and erupted a harsh sound. Fitting, she believed. Her mind was a mess too. 

***

Then stuff began piling on and each time it did, Julie’s heart fluttered like the traitorous bitch it was. 

Like when Luke told her to tell calculus to “bite her” as a joke, but then she actually did during a test and somehow didn’t get a black out. She knew it was likely just a placebo, but the grin she earned later on when she showed him the B+ and he gave her the tightest hug was worth the pseudo-science. 

Or he found her in the hallway whenever they both had a free period and casual small talk turned to slamming each other into lockers or, more recently, pulled her outside to get boba from the place right across the street. Their boba hangouts were probably the strangest development of all, but it was… nice. Pleasant. If she ever secretly thought it was a date, then it must’ve been a sun stroke hitting her. 

Or she’d be doing her homework and he’d waltz into her room (because he was always at their house and that never changed) and randomly help her with a task or question. It was small and it usually slowed her down, but she hasn’t had the guts to turn him away either. She blamed his stupid smile. 

Or just yesterday they were all in the kitchen and she was peering over Reggie’s shoulder as he tried and failed to properly text his crush Kayla, when she said: 

‘Isn’t that weird? That you’re talking to a junior?’

Luke, who was looking over his other shoulder, scoffed. ‘Why would that be weird?’

Pointing at the emoji he should be using (the purple heart - duh!), she shrugged. ‘I don’t know. You just don’t see a lot of people date outside of their year. It’s, like, an unspoken rule.’

Reggie pouted. ‘Not helping, Jules.’

‘I am! Use the purple heart!’

Luke snorted. ‘Please, if you were asked out by some senior boy, you’d say no?’

The Molina’s looked up from the phone to shoot him a weird look. The boy shrunk under their stare, fingers nervously drumming island. 

Caution tinged her voice. ‘I don’t know… should I?’

The boys stared at each other for a beat. That “bro-talk” again, Julie presumed with a roll of the eye. Typical.

‘Yes,’ Luke trailed, unsure. ‘You should say no.’

A ball of disappointment dropped to the pit of her stomach at his words - hard. Oh. So he didn’t mean himself then. Julie froze. Why would she even want that? She was not returning to her fourteen year old self that gawked at Luke like an idiot. Nope. Not happening. Just because she felt flushed and ecstatic every Wednesday afternoon when they schedules lined up, that didn’t mean her crush has resurfaced. Totally. 

But then something even more maddening happened. It was Thursday afternoon, right before lunch, when Nick approached her by her locker. She’d been fervently texting a sick Flynn to get better when he started asking about dance class and how on earth he was supposed to master a calypso by Monday next week. He was clearly stressed and Julie gave him a hug. Just as she was going to offer her help (or redirect him to Kayla, as she was an actual dance goddess), a familiar arm draped around her shoulder and pulled her back. 

Julie was fuming. Luke decided to start acting like some jovial prick as he intimidated Nick with all these terror stories about his own dance assignments from last year and that “a calypso was just the beginning.” The poor guy was practically passed out from anxiety by the time his spiel was over. She couldn’t even yell an apology as he sped off and spun around the corner at lightning speed.        

The arm fell away, Luke stared at her ridden with guilt, muttered some half-assed “sorry” and rushed off in the opposite direction. A baffled, angry Julie was left standing there. 

If Luke thought he could be some white knight, he was dead wrong. 

***

She got lucky. Reggie mentioned beforehand Luke was coming over and knew that he, inevitably, would ascend the stairs. A pent-up Julie paced in her room, feeling that fever pitch come to a boiling point. Argh! Why was he so… infuriating?! (And attractive?! And charismatic?! Argh!) 

Then she heard it. His tentative steps up the steps. Like he knew. The fact that she was seemingly predictable left her cold this time, slamming her door open at just the right moment to snatch his wrist and roughly yank him inside. 

Before he could react, she yelled: 'What the hell, Luke?! Why did you do that?' 

Luke was a stammering, embarrassed mess. Good. 'Uh- I- I-' 

'You can't just act all overprotective or possessive like that! What's your problem with Nick? He's super nice and, you know, my friend. I already have two brothers, I don’t need one more!’

'I-'

'You don't get to decide who I talk with! Or save me or whatever fantasy you were living in! And-!' 

'I like you, Jules,' he blurted. 

Julie was blazing though. 'So? That doesn't mean that-' Until the words dried on her tongue, stunned. All else she had prepared to say flew out the window. The constant fluttering in her heart hitched. Did she… hear him correctly? 'W-what?' 

A beat went by, like he couldn’t believe he actually said that, but then word vomit spewed out. 'I- I like you? Like, on and off since I was eleven and I tried to not like you - I really tried - but you're just incredible and pretty and an amazing singer and you keep doing that thing with your lips when you have a thought and it's been killing me seeing Nick shoot his shot and-' 

Julie dove forward and pressed a kiss on his rambling mouth. Stretched on her tippy toes, she saw him freeze and stare at her in wonder. Slowly, her poor heart began to beat again, fast and fond and for him and oh my God, what was happening? 

'Did you just-', he croaked. 

Shit. Should she have asked to kiss him first? Her hands didn't leave his shoulders, alarmed. 'Uh… you just kept talking and-' She swallowed back her nerves and mustered a smile. 'If you wanted to be my boyfriend, you could've just asked.'

Luke blinked, completely in awe by her words. 'What?' 

Alright. Time to take life by the balls, Molina. 

'You didn't think I might like you back?' 

An incredulous laugh puffed from his lips, looking from her hands on his shoulders and then grabbed onto her waist. Jitters burst in her stomach at the sudden touch. This was actually happening. Holy shit. But God, how could she deny that bright smile and his warm smile and that giddy feeling that rippled her skin each time they hung out? 

'Can we try that again?', he breathed. 

His grin captured hers before she could fully nod, his hands slipping to her lower back and jaw without hesitation. Her arms slung around his neck, finally getting a feel for his soft locks of hair. Heat grew from her chest to her toes, curling from bliss. She felt deliciously empty and full of glee all at once. 

Her back fell against the door with a giggle. Just as he went back in, she pressed a finger on his lips. 

'Still doesn't make it right what you did.' 

'Yeah.' He kissed her again. 'Sorry.'

She tried saying more, but each word was muffled by another warm kiss of his intoxicating lips and all she could do was melt against him. The odd lyric that “heaven was his lips and larger than paradise” passed her by, hopefully reminding her of its existence in an hour or two. 

His fingers slipped under her shirt and dug into her heated skin. They became lazier, the kisses open-mouthed and smiling and already so amazing at first try. Julie has kissed a handful of boys before, but this? Unmatched. 

Two sudden knocks against wood. ‘Julie?’

They froze, Julie slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his inevitable snicker. 

‘Have you seen Luke?’, Reggie continued, confusion lacing his voice. 

‘No!’, her voice squeaked, still affected by their make-out. Cringing, she tried to level it. ‘Uh, maybe he’s gone to the, uh-’ His lips grazed her neck, teasingly. She pinched his arm, but he didn’t lean back. Asshole. ‘-uh…’

‘Julie? Everything okay?’

‘Yeah! Yeah! I’m fine!’ Julie pushed Luke back again, this time the boy giving her some space. The wolfish smirk he was sporting was one she either wanted to slap or kiss away. ‘Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Annoying Carlos? The studio?’ Not my room!  

They held in their breaths as they waited for a reply. Her mind was failing to catch up to what she’s just done. Here she was, with flushed lips and tingling skin from Luke’s actions as her brother was meandering on the other side of the door. How did she end up here? 

He blew a raspberry. ‘Okay…’ They sighed. ‘When you’re done making out, can you force Luke to start our project? Kind of an important assignment.’

Luke’s face crashed into pure horror, mouth falling agape and skin pale as a ghost. Julie snorted despite herself, dropping her head on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle her giggles but failing horribly. Of course, Reggie knew. His dreamy nature made anyone forget how observant he actually was, yet here he instantly he had his pulse on the facts. Or he’s always known about Luke’s crush on her. Probably both. 

Her smile stretched against the fabric of his shirt. Luke had a crush on her. Luke liked her. 

Reggie’s footsteps faded away, his bedroom door falling shut. Their gazes met again. 

Luke gulped, green eyes wide and oh so adorable. ‘He took that surprisingly well.’

Her chin raised, haughty. She hasn’t forgotten about that infuriating face of his just one minute before. ‘You kissed my neck.’

That look returned as he hummed, edging closer. ‘I did.’

‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’

His face brightened at her words, weaving a hand through her and making her sigh just like that. She was gone and she didn’t even know it. ‘And you’re-’ he murmured, softly kissing her lips, ‘-into that.’

How desperately she wanted to keep this going, she has heard what Reggie said. An important project due. She shouldn’t trouble her brother like that, even if making out with his best friend was far more appealing than anything else in the world right now.

The measly words puffed out. ‘You have-’ kiss ‘-a project-’ kiss ‘-with Reggie.’ kiss.  

‘Hmm…’ Letting her stand between his legs to be even closer and consequently shutting down any rationale, Luke mumbled against her lips: ‘One more minute.’

In the end, Luke stayed for another thirty minutes before Reggie barged in, dragged the boy from Julie’s bed by the collar and wordlessly trucked back out the room. When later that night she received a text saying goodnight jules 💙 she knew she hadn’t been dreaming.

And when Luke kissed her square on the lips the next day for everyone to see, Julie had inkling this interesting, little relationship of theirs was the just the beginning.  

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @sophiphi @ourstarscollided

[miraculouswolf99]

The Language of Flowers

I love Chloe Salt and while this is not the most action-packed of one-shots, I hope you all appreciate the effort that I did to research each and every meaning of the flowers.

*****

Lyon and Vallia Garden.

The first, a teen that would be described as having a heart of ice and a gaze that could freeze you solid. His twin sister, on the other hand, was pretty much said to be a flower garden made human with tree sap instead of blood.

Yet the two stuck to each other as if they were one of those pairs of conjoined twins. The two were opposites in personality, style, and even how they talk. But even then, they were as close as a brother and sister could be.

Nobody in Ms.Bustier's really had any idea about the two foreign students in their class. Of course, they knew that it was part of a program for students of different countries to experience other cultures. But it was almost like having two ghosts in class. They would come and go each day, silent as ever, and it was like they were never there at all.

There wasn't really much of a problem with them, especially since the first day they were there was pretty much the only time they had ever spoken. But they spoke only to give the class brat, Chloe, a good tongue lashing that they all thought she deserved when she tried to make the two as submissive to her as Sabrina. But since then, the two were so silent that most people that were not in the classroom thought that they were mute.

"They two of them are such a mystery," Nino says, a lot of the class hanging out in the classroom during a break since an akuma attack was recently stopped.

The twins were not in the room for reasons no one else knew.

"A mystery wrapped in an enigma and stuffed into a riddle," Alya added, the reporter in her really frustrated.

"They are not as bad as you guys think," Adrien tells them, a bit tired after his fight as Cat Noir.

"How can you be so sure," Alix crosses her arms. "They don't talk to anyone but each other and never in a language we understand."

"I've seen Lyon at his archery practice sometimes when Kagami and I are at fencing," Adrien says. "He probably just has high expectations expected of him like Kagami and me."

"It is probably the same for Vallia, as well, then," Marinette agreed.

"They could, at least, make an effort with us," Kim said.

"My calculations say that there is a less than five percent chance that the two will speak with any of us," Max says.

"They need to learn their places," Chloe sneered. "Bowing at my feet."

"Why are you even here, Chloe," Alya put her hands on her hips. "Everything that ever comes out of your mouth is about as trashy as that dumpster akuma last week."

It had been a garbage man that was having a bad day. Apparently, his daughter was sick, his partner in the truck would not stop singing opera, and then one grosser bags he was trying to put in the truck ripped open. All that combined made him a prime target for Hawkmoth. Luckily, Ladybug, Cat Noir, White Wolf, and Beautifly managed to stop him from turning Paris into one giant landfill. Which, ironically, was his villain name. Landfill.

"My father will hear about..." Chloe tried.

"Shut up, Chloe," Marinette yelled. "Maybe the reason they don't talk to us is that they think we are all just as under your pathetic thumb as Sabrina."

"I'd rather be turned back into Timebreaker than be her minion," Alix stated.

"Adrikins, you going to let them talk to me like that," Chloe tried to whine.

For once, Adrien didn't even try to defend her. He turned away from her, shaking his head. To say that the young model was sick of her never-changing attitude would be the understatement of the century. He did a lot of thinking after the Despair Bear incident. Chloe would never change how she was. She has gotten away with it for too long to ever even want to change. She especially didn't change after being turned into Queen Wasp not too long ago.

"They've only been here for a little over two weeks," Marinette reminded them. "Maybe they just need more time to adjust."

"Having friends would help them adjust, girl," Alya put her hand on her best friend's shoulder.

"There is an 86.5 percent chance of them adjusting better with friends by their side," Max said, Markov floating by his head.

The class would have talked more, but they heard the sounds of two people chattering away in a foreign language coming toward the classroom. And since Lila was still MIA since her first day in class, that meant that it had to be the twins. Everyone quickly scrambled to get into their seats and not look like they had a class meeting without the entire class.

When Lyon and Vallia walked in, the silence that had fallen over the classroom seemed to be a lot worse than being caught in a class meeting. But the Greek twins simply walked to their seats in the back and sat down for class to start up again.

"Vríkate ta sostá louloúdia," Lyon whispered to his sister. Translated: Did you find the right flowers.

"Me píre lígo, allá to ékana," Vallia whispered back. Translated: Took me a while, but I did.

The two silently had smirks on their faces.

*****

The next day, the class was unbelievably shocked by what they saw when they walked into the classroom. There were bunches of flowers on all of their desks. A different flower was on each of them. No two desks had the same flower. Except that Ms.Bustier's desk seemed to have a flower bunch with one of each blossom in it.

"Geia," the Greek twins greeted them, standing at the front of the classroom.

Most of the class was too shocked by the flowers to notice that the two of them had actually talked to them.

"Was there some type of flower akuma and we didn't know about it," Alya looked disappointed that she might have missed an akuma attack for her blog.

"Pardon," Lyon crossed his arms.

The class suddenly realized that the twins were talking to them. The two of them were also each holding a few roses in their hands.

"Are you two actually talking to us," Alix asked.

"Eínai tóso dýskolo na eísai oraía," Lyon says to his sister. Translation: They make it so hard to be nice.

"Páre, aderfí," Vallia responded. Translation: Behave, brother.

"Class, sit down," Ms.Bustier instructed. "Lyon and Vallia have some things that they have collecting in order to share with us."

"Flowers," Max asked, confused.

"We basically grew up surrounded by nature," Vallia says. "Plants can be a language all on their own. You just have to know how to use them."

Lyon took a small sniff of the roses he was holding.

"Take roses, for example," he said. "They perfectly describe us. Roses are said to represent people that are quiet and traditional. Quite fitting for the two of us, isn't it."

The class all sat down in their respected seats. Adrien and Marinette were probably the most interested ones of the class, even if they were all curious. Except for Chloe, of course.

"We spent these last couple of weeks getting to know you guys from a distance," Vallia explained. "It is one of our family traditions to give flowers to someone when they enter the family. By marriage or birth."

"We decided to take that tradition and make a classroom version of it," Lyon says. "Each of you has been given flowers that match your personalities. It took us a while to find the right ones and get them here. Luckily, we have a very wide range of flora at our family sanctuary."

"You spent over two weeks getting us flowers," Alix raised her eyebrow.

"Can there really be a flower for each of us," Mylene wondered out loud.

"You have them all in front of you," Lyon looked a little annoyed.

Vallia did have to admit that she was a tab annoyed as well. While they did not know just how much nature meant to them as a part of their lives, the doubt was still annoying.

"We figured this would show that we are more than two foreigners that like to keep to themselves," Vallia says.

"Keep in mind that I still like to keep to myself most of the time," Lyon said, Vallia knowing how much her brother likes the quiet.

"So, what do these flowers mean," Adrien asks.

To his surprise, neither of the twins pulled out a list or anything that could help them remember all the information. They must really know their stuff.

"We can start with Mylene," Vallia says, the small girl blushing. "We gave her peony flowers. They represent those that are kind and also like small gestures."

Ivan was particularly shocked by that. He had only gotten together with Mylene because she read his song as a poem after his second time being akumatized as Stone Heart. She was not up for the big-time rock and roll version he wrote it as, and just liked it as a simple poem or soft song.

"Ivan's was simpler to find," Lyon said. "The carnation flower has always been used to describe down-to-earth people. Ones that are very grounded."

The other members of Kitty Section looked at Ivan, knowing how that was very true. Ivan had always been the first to calm down any fame that might go to their heads after the Captain Hardrock incident and their performance. Well, after Luka that is. Juleka's brother was basically a saint when it came to being cool, calm, and collected.

"We chose poppies for Alix," Vallia explained the red flowers in front of the skater. "The traits that they represent are those that are creative and bold."

That was definitely Alix to a "T." Her art was a mix of both since she did spraypaint street art. And her natural athletic abilities did make her do some pretty bold things.

"Max and Kim, I thought, were the easiest to match," Lyon said. "Max has the aster flower, which represents those that are smart and devoted. Kim has hydrangeas, for those that are athletic and team players."

The class was starting to see just how much the two had worked on their "project."

"I, personally, liked to say that I enjoyed finding flowers for Rose and Juleka," Vallia smiled. "Mostly because I am holding one of their names."

That got a giggle out of the pink-dressed blond and an eye roll from Lyon.

"Get on with it, Vallia," Lyon says. "We still have actual classes to attend, sister."

The class had to hide groans, especially since Bustier was in the room and they did not want to insult her by accident.

"Fine," Vallia sighed. "I thought that tulips matched Rose because they are for the bright and cheerful. Juleka's are also my personal favorite flower, the lily. They are for ones that are quiet but also inspirational to others."

Juleka tried to hide her face in her hands, knowing that she was blushing. Rose was over the moon, for herself and her best friend. If there was any flower that was spot on for anyone in the class, it would be the one that Rose got.

"Nathaniel and Adrien ended up having the flowers that tie as my favorite," Lyon admitted. "I chose the iris for Nathaniel because it is a flower for daydreamers and the imaginative. Orchids are Adrien's because they represent those that are sophisticated, refined, but have good hearts."

Both mentioned boys blushed. While Adrien did have more friends than Nath, both of them were naturally quiet and not used to such praise. Yes, Adrien is a model, but it be a miracle to hear any sort of praise from his father. And Nath was only just starting to come out of his shell thanks to Marinette.

"Sabrina was a tad bit more difficult to match," Vallia almost did not want to admit. "But when you learn about who she is, she is optimistic and also tends to be a morning person. Those are the traits of the daisy."

Sabrina was shocked, as were most of the class. As usual, Chloe didn't care. She had been sneering at the flowers in front of her since she had sat down. Sabrina was internally jumping up and down in excitement. No one had ever tried to get to know her, especially after she became friends with Chloe.

"Alya is a very modern person while Nino also very much in the tech universe, so they were also a little difficult to translate to our olden tradition," Lyon says. "But we did think that Alya best matched with the daffodil. It represents those that are very social and also love friends and family. Nino's flower is the sunflower, a blossom for the warm and those that tend to be very happy-go-lucky."

Both of those descriptions perfectly matched the two. Alya was probably the most social person in the entire school. She had to be to run Paris's most popular blog.

"I thought that Marinette's was very much telling about who she is," Vallia says, Marinette a little embarrassed. "The calla lily is for hardworking people, but also represents people that can be said to be quite rare as well."

Marinette was now bright red as she hid her face in her arms, Alya patting her back. But you could see the look on the blogger's face that she was enjoying someone telling Marinette how special she was. The girl was too humble for her own good.

"And last, Chloe," Lyon did not look happy about it being his turn to talk when it came time to tell the brat about her flower.

"Saving the best for last," the blond ruined the nice moment the twins had created. "About time you two start giving me the respect I deserve."

That was when Lyon got the most ice-cold look on his face that the class had ever seen. Rose even shivered a little bit, as if she was actually cold from the look he gave the brat.

Adrien remembered seeing him give that look only once more. It was last week when he was at a photoshoot after school. Lyon and Vallia had been in the same park as the shoot and had heard the photographer becoming rather aggressive with him. After a few words about acting like a model should and not a teenage boy, Lyon got in the photographer's face and gave him that very look. He had not said one word, but that look was enough to make the man weak in the knees. He had not spoken to Adrien again the entire shoot and a different photographer was assigned to him soon after that day.

"Alright, here is what your flower says about you," Lyon's voice could freeze the Atlantic. "The gardenia flower represents those that like living in a life of luxury. Those that like the lifestyle of the one percent..."

Chloe seemed to be happy with that, but Lyon almost smugly popped her bubble.

"Basically, it's the flower for spoiled brats that need to get taught the meaning of the word 'no," he finished.

[sugar-petals]

boyfriend bot (m)

↳ Not made of flesh nor blood. But made to treat you right. 

↳ PAIRING ⇁ baekyhun x reader

↳ STATS ⇁ one shot | sci-fi + domestic au

↳ WORDS ⇁ 29k

↳ WARNINGS ⇁ slow burn, the yearning™, eventual smut, light angst, making out, fingering, blowjobs, vaginal penetration, baekhyun can expand his dick what about it, cock warming, messy sex, artificial semen, giving orders + name-calling (bbh receiving), cum play, throatpies, wet panties all the way, masturbation, switching & dom!reader undertones but more vanilla > kink, french kissing, baek is a gentleman, cuddles

↳ ♡ Caro’s Note ✏︎ mmh i love seeing reader get her life turned upside down. features ten chapters. please indulge. ✍️

Chapter 1: The Capsule

God, the sting is back. Your left foot starts hurting like absolute hell. Out of all possible moments and places.

The vaguely polite smile on your face drops to a stifled expression, but Mr. Kim — on top of being just as oblivious as you expected a man of his job to be — is too preoccupied to notice.

„Our faculty is quite large,“ he says, gazing over the diagrams on his tablet pc. „We require a lot of spare room to test the robots.“

You exhale. Trying to focus on the diagrams, whatever they might mean. It’s mostly obscure, floating animations in green and yellow. Actually — very much unlike the faculty itself which is white, stark, and sterile. And yes. Too large for its own fucking good.

Just keep on walking, you tell yourself, you’ll be there soon. You’ll see Baekhyun in just a minute, okay.

Besides Mr. Kim, whoever works here has got to be a raging part-time athlete. Crossing all the plain white corridors feels like jogging right through a football field.

If you walk down any more of those, you’ll actually be out of breath. On top of limping like a stork in a puddle of half-dry mud. All accompanied by the squeaking of Mr. Kim’s obnoxious white crocs that seem to mock you with every step.

You spend too much time inside.

But who these days trains for a marathon like this.

Another deep exhale. Focus, focus, focus. You try to keep the conversation smooth.

„That’s reasonable. How long does it take to run such a test?“

„Really depends on the model,“ Mr. Kim hums, now diverting his eyes from his device to meet yours. „Prototypes take three, even four years to manufacture, trial, and refine. It is rocket science.“

Your foot is kind enough not to send another spike of pain through your legs so your face looks neutral at best.

„Four years. Quite a long time.“

Around just as long as you’ve been the single pringle of the neighborhood if you count up the months. Now that’s funny. You still feel pathetic showing up here, either way.

But since you already paid and walked what feels like three miles, there’s no going back.

Mr. Kim stuffs the tablet into his pocket now, then interlaces his fingers, making him reminiscent of some kind of ancient Roman oratory figure with his long white lab coat on.

„It is. The models that you can customize do several test runs over the course of two weeks, on the other hand.“

„Wow, that’s actually pretty fast, then.“

You’re genuinely surprised. That the faculty is professional to a fault, however, isn’t shocking. The reviews of their products are nothing but positive. Five stars are plastered all over the edgy customer feedback section on the company website. Accordingly, your purchase is worth more than five saved monthly salaries which torments you more than your damn foot.

Mr. Kim cocks his head a little.

„Technically, yes,“ he says. „However, every custom bot has once been a prototype. All the important safety tests have been conducted.“

You raise your brows. If you did the math correctly, it’s 3 to 4 years development stage plus two weeks of customizing and tests. That makes sense.

You’re surprised your brain can register as much. Now that it’s been ten minutes of walking or even a bit longer, who knows the time works differently in this bitch of a building, the corridor is giving your Achilles’ heel a hard time again with another endlessly long passage.

Doors upon doors, one more mysteriously labeled than the other, pop up right and left. ‚CASTS AND SCULPTURE‘ says one entrance. ‚LINGUISTIC DEVELOPMENT‘ another. From another corner, a whirring noise keeps on disrupting the silence of the hallway.  

What else can you do but try to slow down the pace without it being too discernable. It’ll pass in no time, you tell yourself, don’t be a bother. You won’t have some breakdown in here and ask for a glass of water or whatever. It’s already embarrassing enough to do all of this.

If you act up, they might consider you unsuitable to take the bot home. There are no opportunities to sit down anyway. Mr. Kim is far too awkward to talk about anything else but technical details. They probably don’t even have cardboard cups and mineral water in here, at least not in the radius of the sensitive equipments.

It really is a rocket science place.

Figures, this is a place for robots, not humans. The receptionist of the faculty himself had been a bot already. Sleek, poised, and polite. Interestingly, with a slight resemblance to Mr. Kim.

You chew on your bottom lip to distract yourself, walk on. Trying to come up with questions seems to be the best way to distract yourself at this point.

„Do… you also quiz the robots for conversation like that?“

It sounds like an outlandish thing to say to such a high-ranking scientist, but with the pain in your leg, it’s all too easy to forget about tone. The corridor becomes longer with every step and the neon lights above don’t help. Maybe you only hallucinate all of this. Mr. Kim sounds as factual and courteous as ever.

„Of course. We simulate every possible life situation you can think of. He can play sports with you, talk about modern art, cook Spaghetti, iron clothes, send you a text message, point out star constellations.“

„Really?“

Your heart beats even faster than it already does. Not that you’d ever need your robot to do push-ups or teach you cross-training. But Mr. Kim very much sounds like he’s confident the android will keep all its lofty claims. It’s a promise that raises your mood a lot more than you thought. All the details on the website you’ve read about three times already, but hearing them confirmed is still exciting.

„Even if a client customizes a model,“ he pulls out the device from his pocket again, then points to several other red graphs on the tablet. „The base programming allows for a variety of actions already.“

None of the data he shows you instantly rings a bell. It looks far too advanced. But it’s a no-brainer to you, someone like Mr. Kim lives in a bubble of bot speak.

As far as you understand it, what he means is that all robots have long been ‚finished‘. Customizing only adds a few features. A final, very personalized touch.

„Um— And my bot is able to learn, right?“

„That is one of the most important features,“ Mr. Kim fiercely nods his head. So that struck a chord. „Baekhyun is a leisure model, but you’ll notice that he asks a lot of questions.“

„What type of questions?“

„Well… Think of it as if a child with a rational mind gets to know the world. Very rapidly rather than naively. And, he constantly updates what your preferences are.“

„Right.“

The prospect of finally meeting him lets the pain in your leg fade off at least a little.

Baekhyun.

Only eight letters in an online form until this very moment. But soon, someone very real before your eyes. It’s an overwhelming thought, but your impatience is stronger than that. Now you really want to see him.

The corridor, thankfully, ends in a few feet anyways. Your knees are getting wobbly by the minute.

„Is he able to reach conclusions on his own?“ you ask, hands stuffed into the side pockets of your black jeans. Your pulse is still increasing. Mr. Kim’s friendly face becomes even friendlier with the smile that now stretches wide across.

„Conclusions— I would describe him as logical, but with a strong ethical twist. He’s a leisure model, after all.“

That sounds like a fancy way of saying ‚yes‘. Or, in a way, a hook to assure a new client that it was money well spent and not wasted on some hoax.

It’s not like you don’t trust the countless ‚I got a leisure bot and this is how we live’ client videos you saw online.

Even the most amateur vloggers seemed to be wildly in love with their models. Kissing and hugging them all over the place, playing games together and whatnot.

„You know, I had the honor of overseeing his tests last week,“ Mr. Kim continues. „Baekhyun’s sense of wit is so astounding, even our chief robotics officer was surprised. And he works in the department since 1995. That’s almost 40 years of experience here.“

You have to smile to yourself now, too. In the ‚select personality’ section on the customization website, your particular wish was to make Baekhyun sharp. Maybe this could turn out as interesting as you pictured it would be.

„We took a little longer with it. But I believe Baekhyun is among one of the best customizations this month,“ Mr. Kim now stops and draws out a key card. „Especially— in terms of how you helped us design his looks and theme. Most client requests we get want some kind of he-man. They only spend twenty minutes customizing their bot on the website, if not less.“

Mr. Kim pulls a frustrated face recalling that. In the meantime, you try to keep your legs straight as good as possible. It’s probably been a few years since you’ve been legitimately nervous like that and it catches you off guard. This is like a final exam. After a brief attempt to fix your hair, you shove your hands into your pockets a little deeper.

„Hm, I see?“

It must have been getting vastly boring in the lab judging by how he talks himself into a frenzy about the project. Although well, if he wouldn’t, you’d be a little worried. This is the type of job where you have to geek out. Mr. Kim seems to be the right kind of guy in his profession, you can’t deny that.

You take a deep breath now — hoping they didn’t go too far with their experiments once they got the rare opportunity to do so.

Mr. Kim pushes his brunette hair back. You can tell he’s getting a little tense himself. He disables the tablet PC using a sleek button on its side and clamps the device under his left armpit.

„You spent almost four hours selecting all the extended details,“ he says. „That helps us a lot. Baekhyun quickly developed into our favorite project to work on. He’s a very self-aware and attentive android.“

You nod, absent-minded already. What matters is that you finally reached the end of the fucking corridor. And just how high your level of adrenaline has been rising. It feels like a gyro drop at full throttle.

You murmur a small thank you and watch Mr. Kim swipe his card through the chunky white, bleeping doorknob. A green light appears from above the door and it scoots open.

„Over there,“ he brings his left hand forward, ushering you inside.

In the middle of the dome-like room before you is a platform sporting an adjustable mechanical frame. Chrome, light aluminum, something of that kind. A terribly odd construction, but almost mundane for a faculty of this caliber. Everything smells painstakingly sterile.

There are similar set-ups you’ve seen in the hospital you got your appendix removed in last spring. Whether that’s a good sign or not you can’t tell over the buzzing inside of your head. This shit has you way too clamped up in the stomach.

You try to focus on observing as good as you can. Back to the here and now.

The frame holds a shiny grey capsule reminiscent of a cocoon. Mr. Kim steps forth toward the pod and swipes across its surface with a gentle right hand. That triggers a series of mechanisms at the back of the capsule, causing it to gain opacity.

Within seconds, a quirky silhouette with elegant limbs appears inside the cocoon. Your hands tremble even more. This is the moment you downed three large fucking cups of coffee for this morning after two winding hours of sleep.

„There he is,“ Mr. Kim announces, audibly proud.

Once the capsule is fully transparent, it is turned upright by the frame shifting about— and dissolves. The cocoon is gone.

The man that now stands before you slowly comes to life as if waking up from a fifty-year-long slumber.

Chapter 2: Enamel

What you first notice is his hair: Whiter than pearls, almost platinum. It’s long enough so see a slight bend in it. Whether it is actual hair or some kind of artificial fiber seems quite impossible to tell. It’s all matte, gently moving. Underneath its softly parted bangs open—

Baekhyun’s eyes. You can’t help but get tunnel vision and an awkwardly stiff posture. Even if they still look sleepy, there is so much movement in them already. They are perfectly droopy and teddy-like, turning toward you with a shapely, slightly long button nose in between. Either iris is deep and dark to the point of no pupil being immediately recognizable. There is something very intentional in his gaze that makes you hold your breath.

At a second glance, it appears as if a thin layer of beige eyeshadow was smudged right around both lash lines, drawing even more attention to the little gleam in the eyes themselves. All around the lab, the faculty’s scientists have placed huge round neon light spheres as lamps, one emitting a light more uncomfortable than the other. But in Baekhyun’s eyes, they appear like distant planets.

Seconds pass. You stare. Then, a voice light and airy knocks you out of your frozen state.

„I am very glad to be with you now,“ Baekhyun’s lips begin to move. You audibly breathe in even harder.

They are small, rosy, angular at the cupid’s bow— revealing a subtle smile with beaming teeth and red gums above. And even though they are bright, none of his teeth appear remotely the same, even, nor too symmetrical.

Imperfect like nature, they look just like yours or anyone else’s. You wouldn’t have guessed, not in a million years, that they are made of ‚steadfast, durable acrylic‘ as it said on the website. His smile looks— so real.

„Very nice to meet you, Baekhyun,“ is the only thing you manage to blurt out, extending your hand. Your brain is running on emergency autopilot.

In this moment, it feels like you are more robotic than the robot before you.

The gentle squeeze of Baekhyun’s gently forthcoming hand feels warming. Where you expected cold metal, a smooth heat spreads in your palm. Besides a small whirring sound that seems to emanate from his shoulder joints and wrist, the way he shakes your hand is fluid, malleable to how your own arm angles towards him. Almost — intuitive?

„I’m sorry if I smell like oil and metal. That will fade,“ chirps Baekhyun, lighthearted and boyish, letting go of your hand. It took you a solid eight seconds to initiate a withdrawal. The shame of feeling so desperate drives a pulsing heat into your face. Guinness world record for longest human-android handshake here we come.

Mr. Kim can’t help but laugh behind you, then ends up mumbling into his non-existent beard.

„Exceptional… truly exceptional. Our language specialists have outdone themselves. Even the voice modulation.“

Whatever that exactly means, you nod along anyway. And you almost thought Mr. Kim was laughing at you.

You rebuke yourself for getting way too defensive. It’s not that your synapses would bother dealing with complicated information like this right now to begin with.

„His voice is— It’s just how I pictured it. It’s so beautiful.“

It doesn’t sound recorded or like some random car navigation system’s speaker at all. It’s almost as if he was being perfectly synchronized by somebody standing right behind him. Only a minimal distortion at the end of his sentences gives away how his words are being generated, processed, pieced together. Other than that, his light and animated tone sounds authentic to a surprising extreme. For some reason, it’s almost as if he’s singing. He speaks surprisingly fast, too.

„You have to compliment yourself,“ Baekhyun steps forward a little, and the capsule frame behind him removes itself from the room’s center platform with a zooming noise. „My voice is designed after your imagination.“

„That’s, that’s nothing. Mr. Kim did all of the important work,“ you negate, way, way too fast, and you bite your lip for almost interrupting him.

„Baekhyun is correct,“ Mr. Kim retorts, now appearing on your left with a clipboard in his hand. He must have fetched it while you were busy being a marble statue. „He’s proof of what fantasy can achieve.“

He smiles, then begins to tick boxes on the board, using a shiny, bold black pen from his lab coat’s chest pocket. Baekhyun smiles a marvelous smile right along.

He is truly hypnotizing to your eye. The more you can take in his entirety, the more overwhelming it is, and there’s no way you can get enough of it.

His skin in particular catches your attention. It is embued with a light bronze sheen. His neck, his arms, his face: All different ways of sunkissed, but still appearing as a consistent whole.

Upon a closer look, you even see a few moles and the finest hairs— on his underarms, the chin, the linings of the cheeks. The steep jaw, too. You remember a detail on the website saying that he can actually get goosebumps, so going by that the little golden fuzz is able to move.

You’ve never seen skin like that in your whole life, and yet, it feels natural. The evenness is not the same anywhere. In some spots, there are subtle blue streaks and elongated bumps, as if there were veins. His neck and hands sport the most prominent bits. Around his wrist and elbow area, you can clearly see bone structure denting through. It’s like real skin on a skeleton. His collar bones are acutely visible, as are his knuckles and cheekbones.

„Baekhyun’s haptics are perfected to a single pore,“ a scribbling Mr. Kim picks up on your lasting, travelling gaze. „Elastic, but sturdy, and still extremely soft. You can touch him like any other person. The skin mimics the same properties except that it hardly ages. It is also heated to body temperature.“

Now you know where your money went into. And why Baekhyun’s hands felt so astoundingly real. You wonder how it would feel if he would—

„Quite alright,“ you gawk, chasing away a gazillion of incoming thoughts. All while feeling what seems like an entire waterfall of sweat trickle down your lower spine. You grant yourself the annual award for the most inept conversationalist nation-wide. „Does that need any maintenance?“

„Principally… he is a self-maintaining system,“ Mr. Kim finishes up with his paperwork. „Even small damages he can repair without you having to bring him here. He can log into our databank and get updates if necessary, though that rarely occurs with leisure models. All very discreetly, of course. The, well, the only thing Baekhyun needs from you is regular interaction. As I said: Learning is vital to him. Absolutely vital. You can talk to him like with anybody else.“

„That I can uh provide! I mean sure!“

You exhale. Slacken. Try to keep your feet parallel to each other. If interaction is the only thing needed to keep Baekhyun on his toes, your toolbox can gladly stay in the basement. Lord knows you’d be a lackluster bot mechanic. Casts, sculpture, linguistics and whatnot, on top of any screws to tighten.

„It’s a pleasure,“ a very smoldering Baekhyun straightens his body, and along with it his crisp white outfit. Which you… already like a lot.

It’s tailored rather snugly to his slim frame. You believe it’s got to be synthetics he’s wearing, a thick kind of fabric. As if you didn’t sweat already, the top is sleeveless. Even if he appears quite slender, Baekhyun’s upper arms are nevertheless muscular. The way he straightened up only emphasizes how toned he is.

„And I’m sorry I made you nervous,“ Baekhyun continues, softy gazing over your face. „Seeing someone with enamel eyes is not the most common thing.“

Now your posture becomes equally as upright. The marble statue is back.

„Enamel?“

As if you forgot whatever the hell language is. Mr. Kim must think you’re a complete fool. And Baekhyun, anyways. You already realize how well he can read situations. And— well, your very face. It’s been one of your top requirements in the customization form, after all. It comes back to bite you.

„We normally use plain glass. For the ocular apparatus, I mean,“ Mr. Kim puts away his clipboard, seemingly content. „But since Baekhyun’s eyes are so dark, engineer Park suggested a coat of enamel to emphasize shine. It adds to the visual. Otherwise, his eyes would swallow all light if you will.“

That’s why the lamp reflections are the way they are in Baekhyun’s eyes. It really is a kind of shiny effect. Not even Tulo, the new palm-sized puppy of your friend Hwasa, has such a vivid expression.

In a following moment of sobriety, you let Mr. Kim’s words repeat in your head. Ocular apparatus. It feels so weird to talk about Baekhyun’s face this way. But it helps to remind you once again. He is man-made. For you. Convincingly well.

„Do you like it?“ Baekhyun promptly asks. „It is the department’s goal to make them look as real as possible.“

„I… I can’t complain. It’s incredible. Really incredible.“

If not absolutely staggering. Your whole body feels tingly.

Baekhyun shifts close to you by the millimeter the more you gape right at him. In the meantime, Mr. Kim stuffs his pen back into the lab coat with an understanding hum.

You have no idea what Baekhyun will do now.

Chapter 3: He Treats You So Right

„So, you agree to matching up with client 2B6?“ Mr. Kim asks Baekhyun.

„I do, sir,“ comes a faithful answer right away. Baekhyun’s cheeks become fuller in a beaming smile.

„Are you satisfied with the result and would like to take Baekhyun home?“ Mr. Kim now turns to you.

„Y—yes, I… I want to.“

You don’t even dare to blink. It feels like you’ve grown roots to the ground.

Is this a marriage ceremony? Is the kiss next? Are you supposed to strip on the spot to seal the deal?

But Mr. Kim is stoic.

„I see you are ready to go then. Baekhyun can explain most of his features by himself, anyways. Better than me, even.“

In fact, he sounds more hurried and neutral now. There’s work waiting for him, you can tell. And he sure as hell had his fair share of impatient clients.

You clench up hoping that you looking at Baekhyun like that isn’t that kind of—

Neediness?

You wish you could deny it. But you’ve made the purchase, you limped all the way here. It’s already obvious, it has to be. There’s no way they don’t pick up on it. It’s what drives Mr. Kim’s business almost endlessly, anyways. In this very moment, ten, maybe twenty, even thirty other bots are presented to clients in rooms scattered all over the faculty.

You have to pull yourself together. It’s not like you’re the only one. You center back to Mr. Kim.

„He can?“

„Yes. Any autonomous bot should be able to explain themselves, it’s what I believe in.“

Now that sounded like conviction indeed.

But you wonder why Mr. Kim still bothered going on tangents, then. But yet again, whatever was on the clipboard was a test run he had to monitor or something like that.

The way he asked Baekhyun if he wanted to match up with you must have been part of that. Baekhyun had agreed so fast and warmly, in such a genuine way of speaking.

Even now, his eyes look so inviting and full of reassurance. Without a single word.

Maybe he likes you. If he can feel something like that.

Or thinks of you as a… rational option. Why would Mr. Kim ask about ‚allowance‘ — or whatever it was — in such a manner, anyways? Wouldn’t it mean that Baekhyun did have a sense of affection? Trust, even? Maybe it was just a formality. A contract, or you were just reading too much into it. But it already stuck with you.

Mr. Kim monotonously continues. Maybe he notices how preoccupied you are. Or, after all, it’s a sentence he must’ve said a thousand times.

„If any other question arises, you know how to contact us.“

„Okay, great. I, I don’t know how to thank you.“

„Your contentment, that is the biggest reward,“ Baekhyun finally enters the conversation again. With a very, very big smile.

His eyes unequivocally ask for permission to touch you, and you grant it nodding. Whatever he wants to do— if Baekhyun is trusting towards you, now it’s your turn.

Baekhyun softly places his left hand on your upper arm, pointing toward the longer end of the lab room with the other.

„We’ll take the elevator over there. You can relax your foot a little. I hope we haven’t caused an inconvenience to you. We’re taking it slow on our way.“

Mr. Kim looks just as taken aback as you, if not more.

„Her foot?“

Baekhyun gazes back at the two of you as if you just asked him whether water is wet.

„It’s blatantly obvious by the way she stands, Mr. Kim. Recovering strained Achilles heel.“

The air is laden with gasoline, the cement blocks all around sleek and cold. Slowly approaching your silver little car in the cramped underground garage’s second story, Baekhyun first seems to scan the vehicle, then turns his head to you – seamlessly. You already anticipate him commenting on whatever scratch or rusty spot first caught his eye.

But instead, he looks courteous as ever.

„I can act as your chauffeur if you desire. Today’s traffic is very busy. I’m a smooth operator.“

You can’t help but laugh a little and picture Mr. Kim feeding a Sade playlist into Baekhyun’s system. Or who knows, any robot likely has instant access to Youtube with their hypermodern internet minds.

„Sounds convenient.“

You head towards the passenger seat after passing him the keys, with Baekhyun aptly entering the car from the other side. How his knees bend, how he slides right onto the seat. With such an oddly fluid way of doing it. It doesn’t escape your glance how easily he settles down and fastens his belt right away.

The scientists have really tested for everything.

Robots are legally permitted to drive since only five years and few are advanced enough to do so.

His side profile looks smooth from where you sit. The chin pointed and sharp, the nose straight, slightly long, and dainty. Baekhyun grips the steering wheel quite expertly with his left hand. He turns the key with the other.

„Your convenience is the most important to me. And I like driving vehicles,“ the engine starts. „It’s birds of a feather.“

You fasten your own seat belt, but rather as a reflex than by deliberation. You really have to stop yourself from consistently looking at him with what must be the most puzzled you’ve been yet.

„Oh, you mean, you get on well with other machines?“

„Your car has similar gears to mine, I can’t help it. Family.“

The engine revs up a bit, then quickly develops into a sonorous purr. Whenever you drive — your car strangely never sounds like that. On your way to the faculty, the engine rather resembled a gone-wild Spanish bull stomping and grunting around in heat.

Now that you think about it — Baekhyun spent over three years in the faculty complex. Who knows with what kinds of other machines he has communicated with. Comparing yourself is arguably unfair.

„Maybe grease is thicker than water,��� you say, cramped up fingers intertwining. You don’t know where your wit has been until now. At least you can try.

Baekhyun looks quite amused, actually.

„And yet, water runs much deeper,“ he says, turning the wheel.

The car already exits the garage’s wide neon-lined gate. Baekhyun enables the A/C with swift fingers. They’re strikingly pretty. Thin, long, and elven-like. His nails are perfectly almond-shaped and look peachy.

Once more— you have to snap yourself out of another way too detailed thought. The way he touched your arm left an impression.

You feverishly search for a conversation topic, all while trying to let your eyes wander around the street.

„Is there something like… bots missing the faculty?“ you ask, swiping a few strands of hair off your right cheek. The A/C is messing with your hair a little. Baekhyun has turned it up enough for you to feel sufficiently cooled down, however. „I mean, after such a long time there.“

„By the way you customized me, I already know your home is much cozier.“

You’re trying to catch up with what he said for a solid five seconds. By the time you understand, it dawns on you how ‚he is logical‘ very much extends to some kind of predictive conclusions. That hold to be… very true.

„Ah— I, I guess? So you didn’t like it there?“

„I was built for you, that’s where I belong,“ Baekhyun says, surprisingly firm in tone. „Mr. Kim said he’s not surprised I grew bored of the environment but couldn’t figure out how to find something to do.“

„Oh… I can imagine, the faculty very much looks that way.“

You’re perplexed — because Baekhyun shakes his head.

„It’s not the place,“ he says, and you can hear his voice becoming more serious. „It was you who was missing. That I felt that way was a natural thing. I apologize if this is too early to say so frankly.“

The car takes a suave right turn, entering the bustling main street. Cabs everywhere. Confusing flashes from traffic lights and tall glass windows at every corner. Alongside many of Brooklyn’s most crisp-looking skyscrapers, a few giant advertisement boards pass by. Two of them display the familiar, ever-looming logo.

>>> AndroTech Leisure Bots Inc <<<

  Moscow | New York | Seoul

Beneath it, a corresponding slogan in red print.

He treats you so right.

You try to gather your words. But they spill, and you can’t really look at him.

„No— I mean. It’s important we’re… you know, compatible. Isn’t that, that’s the entire deal behind all of this? That we like each other. It would be silly to do anything else. Especially when this is all so… deliberately done. You don’t have to say sorry, Baekhyun.“

Your friends would probably cringe at you saying this out loud. The majority of them think you’re an oddball spending not just the money, but so many days being nervous about meeting ‚some robot’.

Busy forever customizing ‚just a piece of talking plastic and metal’. Even Hwasa was skeptical. Hyuna said it’s kind of weird to buy someone, something like that as she emphasized. But with Baekhyun next to you, the words just come out.

It feels like you’re talking to— a person.

„Thank you. I haven’t heard any other client talk about a product like that. Nobody is obliged to do this.“

„That’s sad. And I don’t think you’re just a product.“

„You really bothered a lot with me. I promise to show my gratitude.“

Baekhyun lends you an arm to limp down the small garden pathway without putting too much weight on your foot. The door to your ugly duckling of a yellow row house has always been notoriously moody, but today, it creaks particularly loud.

Baekhyun begins to inspect it, briefly caressing your back along the way even if he seems quite preoccupied with the problem. You can hardly think straight and get lost in the touch —

Until it happens.

Your grumpy old neighbor, Mr. Lee from the opposing lawn, is not fully seen behind the large bush that separates his terrace from yours, but almost definitely heard with a loud huff of disapproval.

„Eh!“

He’s observed you arrive. Or rather, heard. Probably sitting in his rusty beach chair, smoking, wearing one of his old pastel golf shirts. You can practically feel the scorch of his falcon eyes burning a hole into Baekhyun’s chest at a distance of several dozen feet.

Chapter 4: Pink Clouds

Right through like a laser cannon. It’s not like it’s particularly cold, not in this area anyways, it’s a warm spring this year. But you do shiver for a second.

„Goes on my list to fix right after the scratch on the hood,“ Baekhyun remarks in the meantime, giving the hinges a quick glance before quickly closing the door.

Mr. Lee he doesn’t even notice.

You decide to play it cool and not rub it into Baekhyun’s face. He didn’t even turn his head after Lee’s single-word, but very telling hmph tirade.

Maybe it would weigh too heavy on his mind to get an odd glance by someone else right away at his new home. Or maybe you’re projecting. But you never know how he’d take it. He has to feel welcomed by you in the first place, you think, not some bigoted grandpa who knows nothing. Mr. Lee is such a boomer.

You’re glad Baekhyun is unfazed. And, maybe even oblivious?

„I quite like the door like this, actually,“ you say.

You let your hands graze over the old door patina, then lay down your house keys on the nearby window sill. Next Monday, you’ll visit the keysmith to create a duplicate. Everything about arriving together in your home feels unusual. Surreal, almost.

„Removed fixing the door from list,“ Baekhyun nods, taking his white shoes off. „Perfection is perspective.“

You imagine him actually keeping a painstaking file on this. Somewhere on a mile-long server at AndroTech. Now you know why the faculty is so large.

„It probably sounds charming when someone comes home to the other. I mean, when it creaks. I have to get used to that.“

You feel the embarrassment on your face saying that.

You try to see the rational point to distract from your blush. Getting a heart attack from him suddenly standing in your room sounds like something to squarely avoid. Just a day ago, you would have interpreted a second pair of footsteps on this very entrance floor as a very upfront burglar.

„That is a very good reason not to repair it.“

Baekhyun smiles, doing a 360° to marvel at the entrance area in its entirety. As if it wasn’t a terribly small room at all. There isn’t much to see except a pot plant and a copy of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe print series, but he still makes big eyes regardless. Maybe this is heaven’s gate to someone who had to look at the faculty lights and way-too-large rooms for so long.

You should probably upload a video of this entire moment on your social media, but gripping the phone in your pocket feels odd. There’s no time to think about it twice anyways because Baekhyun comes to pick you up bridal style. That your heart skips more than a beat is in plain view, it has you gasping out.

„No more walking needed today. It’s leisure time!“

He lifts you far above his hip level with ease. Now you know why you wanted his arms to be big and strong. „Alright like this?“

„Wow, okay—!“

His voice is almost like a jingle, but the following squeal is strangely and completely him when he prances down the center hallway of your home. Being carried within your own four walls has knocked you off your feet indeed.

„Let me get you a blanket,“ Baekhyun props you down on your tiny mint green 80s style sofa just two minutes later. In the meantime, he has promised to make you pancakes for dinner. „You were shivering when we arrived.“

The sun has set, leaving the roof window dark above you. Instead, you’ve switched on the little blue, red, white and green lantern fairy lights dangling off the ceiling. Slipping under the sheets together is strange and oddly comforting at once. To have someone else lifting the duvet up at the same time as you. To come together underneath it.

It’s as Mr. Kim said. He is warm. And there’s a heartbeat, faint but constant, locked in his chest. You can hear it quite clearly once you opt for shifting closer to him. Whether you should be perplexed of amazed you’re unsure of. For his part, Baekhyun seems to bother getting cozy more than once by wiggling around. He finds the right position facing you laying on his side.

„You have a nice bed,“ he says, peeking at you. „Do you want to cuddle?“

He looks cute like that.

And why not.

His hair looks even more touchable in the soft light of the tiny lamps.

„Sure,“ you say, but it doesn’t sound like the most natural thing in the world. Your racing heart makes your voice more fragile than you want it to be.

„Like this? Is it alright for your foot?“

Both of you scoot together. You bury your head at his chest.

„Don’t take care of me too much, Baekhyun,“ you murmur into the fabric of his top. You can get used to having your face buried there. He doesn’t smell like grease at all. „My foot is okay as long as I don’t go berserk.“

Today’s sprint through the faculty had been the most Olympic thing you did in twelve months time, but that’s about it.

„Oh! I am sorry. Mr. Kim programmed me to anticipate and be of service as much as I can. Sometimes I go overboard.“

„I can deal with that,“ you nuzzle yourself into his chest even more. „Mr. Kim also made you a quick learner.“

„Yes, feedback is very important.“

„Mh, yeah.“

„I wanted to ask something related, actually.“

„Go ahead.“

You can’t help but clench your legs together. Bite your lip.

„You were clearly distressed when we arrived,“ his voice becomes serious. „I wasn’t sure whether it was because of me or something else.“

You feel your chest tighten.

Oh.

„Something else. It was something else. It’s not you, Baekhyun.“

„I figured. You were trying to distract from something so I wouldn’t be concerned.“

„It’s hard to hide bullshit from you,“ resurfaces your voice from his chest when you draw your head back from it.

„A bot doesn’t bother with issues, he solves them.“

He sounds confident.

„I don’t know if you can deal with this case.“

„You won’t know. You haven’t told me, after all.“

You sigh.

„It’s… someone who doesn’t like bots very much.“

„Who is it? Is there someone bothering you because of me?“

„Mister Lee. He lives next to us.“

„I see. What happened with him?“

Baekhyun’s response actually sounds far more composed than you thought. His tone is quite soothing.

„He was giving us strange looks when we arrived. Not the meh kind. The aggressive kind. You should stay away from him.“

Lord knows Mr. Kim did not build you some kind of war machine to fend off a raging boomer armed with a hark, golf club, and probably a bucket of water to shortcut Baekhyun.

„It must be a bad experience with another model. That’s what usually happened in such a case. He doesn’t know me personally, after all.“

„Maybe. It is not your fault, either way.“

„There are many people who are afraid of androids for many reasons,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „Jealousy, conspiracies, feelings of not being enough. Some of them even become clients and mistreat their bots, Mr. Kim has told me about a few cases.“

You’re taken aback.

„Why would they?“

„It’s the ultimate control or revenge experience. It’s a legal grey area.“

A silence follows. You don’t want to imagine these things but can’t help but do.

„Then I’m surprised Mr. Lee doesn’t own a bot himself. His… hatred is very strong for your kind.“

„I’ll research in our data banks about this. Maybe he had.“

„You think something went wrong?“

„It can happen.“

„Just… don’t get yourself involved with him up close. He’s creepy. Even if you know about cases like this.“

Baekhyun cocks his head into a smile.

„You’re protective of me. I appreciate that.“

And yet again— He caught you. Whether there is anything Baekhyun doesn’t see right through is reduced to a rhetorical question at this point. Sugarcoating wasn’t relevant on your website form in the first place.

„I’m… sure you look out for yourself. Just didn’t want you to feel unwanted the second we arrive.“

You avoid his eyes. Again.

„It wasn’t necessary, but that makes me feel even more welcome, you know,“ Baekhyun faithfully invites you to snuggle back up against him by leaning forward. „Few owners shield their products from harm. Other than for reasons of us being expensive investments.“

„I dunno. Aren’t most bots sentient?“

„To a degree. They’re built to resemble humans as much as possible.“

„Then— I think, emotional harm is just as shitty as some gears getting torn off or something. If there is consciousness in you. You think for yourselves after all.“

You state it with conviction. Mr. Lee doesn’t seem to realize anything of that.

„I do perceive it. But my brain makes it so that I draw neutral conclusions often. Maybe it’s because my purpose is to be of convenience. No owner needs a dwelling Shakespeare robot defunct in a day-long crisis because he self-indulges. Although I am able to recite all his plays.“

Neutral conclusions. You don’t think you fully understood that yet. Was it— Just like how Baekhyun reacted to Mr. Lee’s taunting? He wasn’t enraged nor happy. He didn’t register it at all.

„Is that… why bots stay with abusive owners?“

You try to utter this carefully, and most of it gladly turns out muffled. Still, Baekhyun acutely understands. You can tell by just how fast he answers.

„The bot will rebuild or reprogram oneself in case of damage. But walking back to Mr. Kim a model would never do. Feeling traumatized or targeted is foreign to us. We could be bored at most,“ Baekhyun shrugs again, and you remember how he experienced the faculty. Boredom. „But that’s only because our processors suggest we need new input and learn.“

Now it makes sense. You give a sharp nod.

„A robot doesn’t become a victim,“ Baekhyun continues. „He becomes trash in a worst-case scenario. A waste of material and innovation. And even then, he won’t feel sad. If he does look sad, it’s to accommodate the feelings of someone who feels sorry for him. And for showing an appropriate situational cue. It’s picked up solely from language we acquired, and our courtesy protocol. Not something like hormone receptors. If we are destroyed for fun by an owner, that’s the emotional baggage of nobody. Mr. Kim perhaps, but he will just build another bot. While we— well. It’s not a concern to us, naturally. We will protect ourselves only to preserve what the client purchased.“

„So… That’s where humans and androids are different.“

„It’s the last gap in science. That we really feel something below the surface. Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s not. Sometimes I wish I could learn it.“

„I think you could experience a feeling like that. You’re self-aware. And Mr. Kim is probably building this whole hormone thing as we speak.“

„It’s quite a thought experiment. On the one hand, I was created to make rational decisions. On the other, I wish I had the presence to live through self-generated, volatile emotions.“

„Isn’t yearning for feeling not feeling already?“

„It is of academic interest. That I want to evolve and experience myself is a wish programmed into to me by Mr. Kim. Because it was a wish by you.“

„Right.“

On the website, you had specified to make Baekhyun self-developing.

„Maybe I will feel something one day.“

„I am convinced it could happen.“

„Until now, I can only mirror someone else’s feelings. With words and the strings that move my face to make expressions.“

„I think I know why many people are jealous of robots. They don’t have the burden of this chemical cocktail inside of them. The irony is… robots want to have that cocktail while humans want to get rid of it.“

Baekhyun picking up on your every mood and approaching you so eagerly with his observations of it is no longer a mystery. He tried to assimilate the sentiments as much as possible. To grow, evolve, whatever the objective might be called.

„The grass is always greener on the other side as they say. Maybe that’s why we do this exchange.“

„That’s like people with curly hair wanting straight hair and the other way around. Never content with that they have and valuing the opposite.“

„Are you not happy with your own cocktail yourself? You sound like you do.“

„It’s… a lot of responsibility to have this. And a hassle anyway.“

Baekhyun chuckles. It must have been an equation in his mind.

„Humans don’t like feeling something negative. It’s interesting how strong their survival instincts are. Bots don’t have this.“

„Yeah. We crave happiness.“

„I will probably never know what that is like. I was created for fulfilling someone else’s.“

To have someone made to make your survival easier. And to make you happy. It’s not something you can yet grasp. You feel obliged to be grateful.

„I wish you could feel it.“

„Your wish is my command, I have to thank you.“

„Maybe this human cocktail is good for at least something. Inspiring someone who can’t have it.“

„From an outsider’s perspective, it is quite something, actually.“

„So— It mends your ‚boredom‘ when you make us happy? And that makes you ‚happy‘?“

Baekhyun nods.

„That’s how it is. Maybe happiness for a bot translates to their brain and physical form getting fed information. We don’t feel how we enjoy this process, but we see how our system thrives when that information comes in. And that registers as a task fulfilled. Which is the best state of a robot to be in.“

„Is it that helping you learn about things makes you something… close to happy?“

That Mr. Kim stressed so much that Baekhyun needs interaction for input doesn’t seem so overstated anymore.

„Yes. But it’s not ‚about things‘.“

„Oh?“

„It’s helping me learn things about you.“

His voice is serious. Your legs feel kind of wobbly at that.

„The regular conversation thing, right.“

„It’s the only requirement from you. It might not seem like a lot, but to me, it’s important. I depend on new things coming my way.“

„Do other clients get that request to talk a lot with their bots, too?“

„Most need only a minimal amount of input. I’m one of the few leisure models who was customized with an emphasis on intellect.“

„Made you a bit of a contradiction I guess.“

„Mr. Kim said that it’s what makes me one of his favorite projects. It’s because of your ideas and that you cared to make me special. I am important to you in some way.“

The word strikes a chord.

Special.

Maybe Baekhyun is. And you bolstered yourself up by making him so to escape the lonely single pringle void. Equipping him with intricate characteristics to give him and yourself a kind of—legitimacy?

Then again, you haven’t interacted with other leisure models other than watching overedited videos of them. Each of those bots could be equally complex. Knowing of Mr. Kim’s genius that sneaks into everything a bot does, the benefit of the doubt still rules.

„Lots of learn talk, then. Anything specific to make it, I mean, quality input?“

Who knows, you think, he might want to learn foreign languages.

„There is a way of making it particularly effective,“ Baekhyun says.

„Remind me often, then. What is it?“

You anticipate some grand revelation. But Baekhyun doesn’t look like it.

„It’s when you touch me. When we, we touch each other. I was built with this in mind. Kinetic learning is what I process best.“

„Touch…—“

„If this is okay for you?“

Almost instantly— You flush. And nod.

„Your skin is unbelievable.“

„It has memory, actually. In particular places it’s very pronounced. Do you want to try it?“

„Yes.“

Baekhyun eases out of your cuddling position first, then loosens the velcro of his top, making space for his bare chest.

What you see shortens your breath.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

His eyes invite you to lay your hand between his collar bones, actually, just a little bit lower. He is entirely comfortable, even leaning forward into the touch.

Judging by how he opens his top even more, your hand has permission to trace down to his solar plexus. So warm and soft, and still: Firm, as if he worked out every day last week.

„What is meant by memory, actually?“ you can’t keep yourself from asking, even with your attention almost fully centered on how his chest arches under your fingers as if he was breathing.

And again, the heartbeat. Your fingertips delight in its strong pulse.

„The more you enjoy something, the more often I can give you the opportunity.“

„That’s how it works, then…“

„Since you like stroking my chest,“ Baekhyun looks down on your hand. „If you allow, you won’t see me with this top on lying next to you often.“

You suck in air. Wow.

„You don’t beat around the bush, Baekhyun.“

„There is no reason not to if I want to please you as much as possible.“

„I would like it. If you prefer that?“

Now, he seems surprised.

„Nobody has asked me this before.“

„Really?“

„My principle is this. If you prefer it, I do.“

„You don’t have your own preferences with these kinds of things?“

„I can come up with ideas. Things for us to try when we touch. But I won’t be partial. It’s all your part.“

„That’s a lot of responsibility for me,“ you puff out. Baekhyun shakes his head right away.

„Someone who customized every last detail of me is a very decisive person. And don’t feel burdened,“ he says. „I already know you like to take everything step by step. When I carried you, I felt it. You don’t have to worry. Just feel my heart.“

Maybe he knows you better than you do.

„Okay.“

Using his right hand, he reaches towards his chest. Baekhyun’s hand ends up cupping yours. Minutes pass. You survey his heartbeat. Sometimes, it switches pace. After almost twenty minutes pass and your lids start to flutter, Baekhyun switches off the lights and whispers goodnight.

Bright Saturday noon daylight. Bustling flocks of people. Weekend joys, lots of pocket money spent. You can smell fries, candied fruits, popcorn, and cigarette smoke all around.

„Normally, I’m a stay-at-home android,“ Baekhyun says, close beside you. „I didn’t know this could be so entertaining.“

Together with you, he watches a bearded Italian man at a stall. Expertly, the man swirls feathery light cotton candy threads back and forth with a thin stick. It smells amazing. Slowly but surely, letting thin layers of floss gather.

„I just try to go by Mr. Kim’s advice and introduce something new,“ you laugh, meanwhile handing the Italian’s assistant two coins for your candy floss.

„I never knew something like an edible pink cloud could be made.“

Baekhyun ogles the Italian as if he were a magician, prompting stifled laughter in the queue of the stall.

„I’m actually surprised,“ you pick up the wooden stick, then take your first bite. „That it’s not something you were already programmed with knowing.“

Side by side, you stroll off the stall, letting the other queuing customers step to the counter now.

„The faculty is like it’s own universe,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „The scientists don’t think about pink clouds there. I’m only a reflection of what they can imagine a prototype to be like.“

You get what he means. In such a sterile environment, you don’t think about sweets.

„Guess I’ll take you out of town more often,“ you pull apart the candy floss a little. Then, you hand Baekhyun a piece of it. You know he’s practically dying to touch it by the way his fingers twitch. Unsurprisingly, he immediately begins to poke into it.

„I like the funfair a lot,“ he nods. Meanwhile, you begin to stroll, passing other stalls every so often. „There are so many people. And this feels almost as soft as your hair.“

„Really? It surely isn’t.“

„Scientifically and physically speaking—“

„Okay, okay, I believe you.“

„I wish I could eat pink clouds myself.“

„The taste is like, well caramel, if you know what that is?“

„Caramel is a mixture of sugar, salt, cream, and butter,“ Baekhyun’s voice snaps into what you think is some kind of memory mode. „Henri Le Roux was the first chocolatier to sell it in 1980, though it is said to be an originally Arabic treat. Traditionally, it is served in small blocks that have about the same color as honey.“

„Yes exactly, and it’s really sweet.“

„What does sweet taste like?“

„Oh… I don’t even know how you could describe that. It’s kind of addictive? Very light… pleasant. Maybe, just how you believe a pink cloud tastes like.“

„If it’s pleasant, it’s a good thing,“ Baekhyun offers you the piece of floss that you gave him. „Maybe we should visit the stall again after we saw the carousel.“

„I’ll get cavities, Baek, and the portion is huge!“

„Oh— I’m sorry,“ he retreats his hand again, keeping the piece to himself. „I’ve never felt how it’s like to have a stomach.“

„You’re both lucky and not so lucky, then. You can’t eat candy but you can’t get stomach aches either.“

Baekhyun doesn’t quite look like he agrees, but keeps on gently kneading the cotton piece in his hands. Almost like a stress ball, but you can tell he gauges its characteristics.

A bot must hardly ever feel stress. Unless you do have him play tennis, or whatever else Mr. Kim would suggest Baekhyun to do for the sheer academic fun of it. But again — You remember saying that Baekhyun knows your home is cozy. Maybe he likes doing relaxed things and going out this way.

„Where humans have a stomach,“ he says, patting his belly, „I have an engine. It can be defect if I’m reckless.“

„That’s fair enough!“ you laugh, then point at the white and yellow carousel that begins to shift into sight behind the stalls. „I sure as hell won’t make you ride this one.“

„It’s so large!“

The big eyes he made at the cotton candy are nothing compared to how Baekhyun looks at the carousel.

„It always spins for ten minutes or so. You’ll see in a few seconds. I got vertigo last time I went on there with my brother. Watching is way nicer.“

„I wouldn’t recommend you get in there either, your foot isn’t fully healed yet.“

„Oh, you don’t need your feet for that.“

„Really?“

„You’re pretty much lifted in the air. Look,“ you point at the passengers finding their place. After a lanky guy has controlled all of the security belts, the seats rise, and then stars to spin around at a slow pace. Baekhyun seems like he’s just discovered the formula for beaming someone through space.

„Mr. Park told me there are things like this. And I’ve seen pictures of it. But I didn’t think it’d be like that. They’re flying!“

„M-hm.“

At this point, you are sure Baekhyun has an interest in physics. You decide to linger close to him, observing the seats fly past overhead. People cheer. Baekhyun smiles.

After a while, he turns his head to you. He sees that you’re spaced out. He turns his eyes back to the seats. It’s only after the carousel slows down that he turns to you again.

„Is there something that has preoccupied you?“

„Pardon?“

„You looked like you were wondering about something. Is it the faculty?“

You couldn’t hide the most trivial secret even if you wanted to. At least you won’t have a divorce from your robot husband at 47 because of a skeleton in the closet.

„I… was thinking about a moment before we said goodbye there,“ you say, chucking the wooden stick of the cotton candy into a nearby trash can.

„I knew you still had a question. But you didn’t want to ask in front of Mr. Kim, right?“

Any other person saying this would sound like a smug accuser, but Baekhyun speaks as if he was talking about the weather. There is no guile in him.

„Maybe. I don’t know. I was just wondering what this whole matching up thing was about.“

„Ah, that’s what it was.“

„It was confusing to me. I tried to explain it to myself somehow,“ you shrug. „Didn’t want to make it awkward.“

Looking at Baekhyun, he very well has that explanation up his sleeve. Maybe you should have asked earlier.

„AndroTech believes that robots can make up their minds to go with the client or not.“

„They do?“

„Perhaps not based on reasons that a human would think about to make a decision. But nevertheless, it’s their free will. If he says no, a new bot will be presented to the customer a week later.“

You’re genuinely surprised — and have a thousand questions already.

„I didn’t know that. I always thought that once the money is paid, it’s a set deal.“

Now you’re racking your brain why no such thing was stated on the website. You bet it’s a terms-of-service rule in font size 5.

„Mr. Kim says we should trust our judgment,“ Baekhyun continues. „It’s meant to protect us without being patronizing, I think. We can decide. At least at the beginning. I don’t know if bots like me have left their owners.“

„Maybe it’s a warning for clients who think they can do anything just because they paid.“

„I think so,“ Baekhyun says. „It’s also expensive for the faculty if something with the insurance happens. Or complicated repairs, that kind of thing.“

You’re cocking up a brow.

„That doesn’t have a lot to do with your free will, though.“

„It has to be mutually beneficial. Bots get to choose, Mr. Kim’s projects increase in security by doing that. Companies work by deals. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. I’m thankful I could decide. And I’m thankful they made me.“

Baekhyun’s statement couldn’t sound any more genuine to you, and you believe that he really is.

„You get to see pink clouds,“ you point back to the direction of the Italian stall.

„That, and— I get to see you.“

Baekhyun looks you straight in the eye now. It’s like in the lab room all over again.

You can’t get out anything other than an awkward stuttering noise.

„I, yes.“

„You have to know. I’m only built to learn about things like pink clouds because it pleases you.“

„Are you sure?“ you tilt your head, regaining your full voice tone again. „You wanted to taste the candy, too.“

Baekhyun takes a bit longer to answer now. He seems to ponder.

„That’s true,“ he eventually concludes. „Maybe I’m more selfish than I thought.“

Baekhyun’s head sinks. The eye contact breaks.

You haven’t seen him look sad before, or at least don’t remember it. Even if the funfair is in bright daylight, his eyes look as if they dim down.

„Hey. It’s not wrong wanting a taste,“ you reach forward to cup his chin. „You’re a leisure bot. You have to analyze these things, don’t you? Or, if you could, just enjoy them for yourself, you know.“

„I never thought of it this way.“

„That Mr. Kim gave you the opportunity to decide,“ you linger in your touch, „means that you’re not just here for me. You can experience things from your perspective.“

„I was doubtful it could be true.“

„But it is, Baekhyun.“

„I still can’t try pink clouds…“

„You still can. Just your way, you see. Skin memory.“

You take a moment to muster all your guts and lean in close, then kiss Baekhyun on the lips. They are subtly warm and pliable. Small, but plush. They gently pucker, as if they returned the kiss.

You never thought it could feel so authentic. Even what feels like accelerated breath ghosts over your skin. Baekhyun seems to notice your astonishment, opening his lips just a little. Maybe just to snap you out of paralysis and prove that what you feel is nowhere near the full extent of how he can move.

Or maybe— it is an invitation.

Eventually, you convince your mind that this is not just an illusion. The feeling on your lips is very real.

Unlike moments ago, you don’t hesitate. You let your tongue dip forward just enough to separate his lips by millimeters. They promptly ease around you. Baekhyun’s teeth are considerably small, and it figures, it all fits the petite frame. However, they don’t scratch your tongue one bit, you glide right across them instead. His bottom lip feels plump and works so easily as a cushion.

He’s already relaxed his jaw. You don’t even notice that he hardly tastes like anything. All you are concerned with is lapping the taste of cotton candy into him, and going by how his lips tighten, Baekhyun has understood how to take it in.

A sudden heat permeates you. Along with it comes a lewd idea, flickering before your inner eye. The imagination of Baekhyun sucking on your clit like that makes your tongue pull back to its original position. As if you had to breathe in. He notices. He’ll do something about it. It’s not just the low pressure in his mouth now that you retreated. Baekhyun wants more cotton candy. His dark eyes are begging.

What slips out to briefly nip at your top lip… his tongue. The back of your head surprisingly registers a steady touch by now — it is Baekhyun’s right hand gently cupping the surface your hair. His touch is so nuanced, you don’t feel his fingers, only how your own hair cushions back against your head. By the time his tongue retreats, your lips tingle with warmth.

Now you want more.

All he dared was a little nip, but you are curious of feeling his tongue to explore more. Baekhyun hardly has to riddle what it means that your hand sneaks up to his jaw from underneath and guides his chin toward you.

His lashes shake and eventually cast down when he releases himself into you. Baekhyun’s tongue surrenders quickly between your lips and accepts your tongue, swirling slow and deliberate as if you would coat him with liquid sugar.

Your hand doesn’t feel like leaving its position. Baekhyun’s jaw is narrow and not at all difficult to hold between your fingertips. You let him pulse and lick into you softly. Taste all the sweetness. His bottom lip is all wet and soft against yours. Slow and moaning. You sure do hear him gasp and whine at the back of his throat.

That it’s all just your saliva and his voice is all but a speaker feels so surreal. With Baekhyun’s tongue in your mouth, very aptly moving, it’s all nothing but a kiss with a robot. It feels so hard to part and stop, to catch a breath.

What must have been twenty seconds looking like a semi-chaste, bordering provocative kiss from a certain distance really got your blood circulating. Baekhyun’s eyes have become yearning.

„If that’s what it tastes like…“

„We have a lot to do when we get home.“

Chapter 5: Are You The Machine?

Being times more the social butterfly, Hwasa told you to buy a convertible sofa when you moved in — very much unknowing of Baekhyun joining your household three years later.

The number of birthday parties and overnight guests you actually found the couch useful for you can count on two hands. Six days ago, you were already pondering to give it away. Who knew you would’ve regretted that big time. You promise to write Hwasa a thank you text for being sensible later.

Despite looking small in its usual state, the couch always proves to be much larger than your actual bed in its extended form, and is much firmer to rest on. A little dull with its mint color, but that you can squarely ignore. It doesn’t creak, smells pretty neutral, and is situated in the precise middle of the living room where soft lighting emanates from three corners of the area at once without it being too obnoxious to the eye.

For a guest, sleeping on it would mean a tough night and tense back. But for Baekhyun, it’s a perfectly steady surface to recline on. He’s been stripping off his top true to his promise from last night, neatly folding it afterwards. He lays it aside just as gently as he leans back, being the first one on the sofa.

„Okay, are you ready?“

His tone is relaxing.

„Yes.“

But you don’t let that fool you, climbing on the sofa yourself now. Baekhyun’s eyes rest on you more observant than ever. Calmly, not remotely rude, but still taking in every clue. You realize that it’s what he’s been made for. It’s his hour. So he’s not going to ignore one little detail true to his nature.

You feel naked even if you’re still clothed even if it’s not Baekhyun’s intent. The way you had no chance in hiding your foot injury, you are now all too aware that he sees your nervous breath going deep.

Whenever you’re vulnerable, you opt for the fast lane. Today is no different. Knowing your favorite safe spot, you head for his chest. Baekhyun’s arms accept you knowingly. You’re snug against him in seconds. And kiss his neck, again and again, until you look up to catch another breath.

„Is, is that good?“

You hate saying that but you still did. Making big eyes at him as if it was the first thing you’ve ever done with a man.

Baekhyun visibly notes your haste and struggle for words just so that something is said. He’s deliberate in taking a moment before his answers.

„Can I ask you something?“ he eventually says, with a silvery overlay in his voice swinging along his words.  

„No problem?“ you cock your head. The request is coming soon. You wonder what’s been on his mind. Maybe he doesn’t like neck kisses. You find yourself holding your breath both out of suspense and not to sound like you’re running out of it. It’s like the faculty all over again. Baekhyun smoothes his right palm into the nape of your neck.

„If I could do all the work…“

„Oh—“

„I think we’d be in the spots we’re comfortable in. Please don’t misunderstand.“

„No no, I get it.“

„You don’t have to overextend yourself for me,“ he continues, in a low tone.

„Sorry, Baekhyun,“ you cast down your eyes. „I’m acting all stupid again.“

„I’m not saying that. What I mean is— I can show you how my body works the best when we try it this way. I want to find out every way to make you satisfied. I’m afraid I’m not suitable the other way around no matter how I twist it. Please don’t be sad because of this. Just tell me what to do. Anything. The best way to please me is still to please yourself. You don’t have to worry about me not getting an experience out of it. It’s just happening in my way that might not be visible to you.“

Baekhyun ends with a serious look.

You remember the phrase of Mr. Kim.

The, well, the only thing Baekhyun needs from you is regular interaction. As I said: Learning is vital to him. Absolutely vital.

Once more, you have to remind yourself. What keeps Baekhyun running is nowhere near the same thing as what makes you do what you do.

You turn a bit red realizing it’s not 50 rapid-fire kisses that he needs. Except to know that you like doing that maybe. But other than that, what Mr. Kim said between the lines is that Baekhyun will stagnate or even degenerate if you don’t talk to him the right way. Not about him, but about yourself.

„You… want the essentials to learn. You prefer when I speak and command.“

He gives a clean nod. You got the point.

„I will do everything else. When I say I want to act— This is not me trying to control you or something like that. I just think it’s good to start out this way. I want the weight off those two,“ he points at your shoulders. „You feel a lot of pressure that you have to do something. Me allowing you draining your energy feels counterproductive to me. I’m not saying you’d be bad at pleasing. I merely can’t help it. Fulfilling your wishes, if you will.“

„I’ve never done this before. I try to instruct you as good as I can. Sometimes I forget what you were made for.“

Maybe that learning process involves not just him figuring you out. It dawns on you that your responsibility for Baekhyun is nothing you can underestimate.

„You think of me as a person you can please. I appreciate this. But I want you refreshed and not exhausted like that. And I apologize if I’m very insisting or stopping you. Or if you feel very watched or transparent because I try to understand you. I just have to say this so we work out well from the start.“

Baekhyun’s eyes drop to your chest quite unequivocally. Of course, he’s seen you getting all worked up.

„I, I get that. I get what you mean. I think I’ve tried to bite off more than I can chew,“ you clamp up your hands. „That was too fast. I’m still running on my old bad habits.“

It strikes you in your gut that you’re the one acting like you’re automatic.

Dull, unreflected. Merely reactive if anything.  Do you realize,  you think,  how fucked up that is. Baekhyun has been behaving more human that you do. Are you the machine?

„I’m not… used to someone watching out for me this way. If I’m not saying what I want… all you can do is take every clue you get.“

Admitting that might make you feel tighter in the lungs, but at least it was honest. Maybe that’s part of responsibility, too. You’re starting to get why interrupted you. There’s a roadblock that needs to get taken down. And that block is inside of you.

Baekhyun very well knows you’re not ready nor really craving to bounce up and down on him for half an hour without getting a cramp or looking mighty weird. Not with that foot injury in the first place.

„I won’t need a clue if I already know I can do something for you. That brings me fun. You can be selfish. Be as selfish as you want to until it’s second nature. I know you have good intent. I can help you learn this. But I take the bulk of things. You don’t have to be ambitious with me.“

Baekhyun’s voice really does make you feel like you don’t have to worry about it. Until it’s second nature, then. Being so new to this really makes you scattered in your thoughts.

„I’ll remember this. I, I think I have something that I want you to try with me.“

Your hands unclamp. At least a little.

„All ears,“ he smiles. You push a strand of hair behind your ear. And another one.

„Is it weird if we try something experimental first?“

Starting out slow and uneventful or taking a dare. You went through either scenario in your head already. Either case, you’d overwhelm yourself or make the first time awkward. At least you hope this one works out.

„You gave me over 280 customizations. We can do something different for almost every day of the year. I think anyone would be curious.“

Talk about being too ambitious. You already saw what kind of stir that caused in the faculty.

„Mr. Kim must have thought I’m crazy.“

„He overworked himself. But he said it was entertaining to construct. Almost everything you came up with is now inside here,“ Baekhyun points at himself.

„Still can’t believe it.“

„And I won’t complain about having more options either. It helps me to cater to you much better. Just ask away.“

Very well. You gather yourself already.

It’s not like you’ve been thinking about a certain thing all the way home from the funfair. You try to make it come out cohesive and confident, but all you can do is mumble. Baekhyun’s face so up close makes your words unstable.

„So, uh. It said on the website you have this special mechanism and… you know what I wrote below that in the questionnaire. I was, I was just giving it a try and, you don’t have to do this if that doesn’t work out or something. It was just an idea. I don’t know.“

Somewhere beyond that word spill, you can still see how Baekhyun already looks like he knows exactly what you mean.

„The  Special Request .“

You swallow hard. That sounds like a brow-raising term that probably the entire faculty departments passed around back and forth in their memos and emails. You feel like hiding for 50 years. Maybe you should resort to digging a hole in your garden and disappear from civilization in an underground cave system. Planting beetroots and carrots shouldn’t be too difficult down there, even in this day and age.  

„The… special request. I mean, this is something that I don’t have to do anything for, technically? Not with my foot, right? But I hope this is not too special or something like that.“

Unlike yours, Baekhyun’s face is completely relaxed.

„I’d be glad to test this out with you,“ he says. „And I have to be frank. Mr. Kim said this might have been the best idea you could have given a robot scientist to work on, you know.“

Now that comes as a surprise that makes you exhale pretty sharply. He can’t lie about this, can he?

Again, you feel the blood shoot up to your face. You couldn’t be any more flustered. Maybe this actually wasn’t a too bad idea.

But still. Out of all things, you really asked him to do  this .

Just about the most perverted thing you could think of at the moment.

Special Request. What a mad thing to do. And now you’re here and he said yes. It’s bizarre. You feel the urge to jolt.

„…I’ll be getting a towel.“

But there’s a loving hand rested on your shoulder as you do.

„Y/N. There might be someone else who’s supposed to do that,“ Baekhyun holds you back from jumping up and rolling off the bed entirely. „Your politeness is quite incredible to me, I must say.“

And you did the same mistake again.

You grit your teeth, snap back into Mr. Kim’s advice. Instruct, instruct, instruct. It feels like you have to rewire your brain from scratch.

„Please— bring me a towel, Baekhyun,“ you rephrase, pause in your movement, and take a deep breath. Giving commands like that wasn’t anything like you’ve done with your previous boyfriend. You never dared. You thought it would bother him.

But Baekhyun is headed down the hallway in almost a split second. He returns with not one, but two towels. And— A hair tie.

He hands it to you with a little smile. Baekhyun didn’t miss you swipe your hair out of your face multiple times.

Concentrated in his work, he gets busy stacking one towel at the end of the bed and splaying out the other across the sheets. Waiting, you sit at the edge and watch. His movements are economical and fast. Once the bigger towel of the two is neatly lined up as a square, he stops to look at you.

Okay , you think to yourself.  Next thing you want, next thing… He’s not here to chit chat nor are you. Don’t be silly and ask why he’s looking at you like that. You can’t just ask for towels and it’s done with the whole instruction thing. He doesn’t mind if you say this with more directness. Bots can’t read minds. It’s not like he’s working on autopilot like some other pleasure models do. It won’t sound weird, it’s what he needs. Say something, say something. Keep it crisp now.

„Come pick me up. Settle me on this.“

That’s more like it.

„All as you wish.“

Baekhyun scoops you up from the edge of the bed without any seeming effort. When you first arrived at your house, you already felt just how easily his arms were carrying you. Who’s to blame? In the online questionnaire, you requested nothing less than that.

Given what he’s made of and how he’s powered, his muscle capacity can’t fade. It’s crafted for endurance. You find yourself transfixed on his biceps gulping. That he’s topless and you can feel his heartbeat doesn’t help.

„Is there something wrong with my arms?“ he stops on the spot.

Baekhyun took only the blink of an eye to notice. You might as well blurt out your entire uncensored thoughts whenever they come up. Maybe you’re wrong about the mind-reading thing. Again.

„I was just wondering… You can’t really tire, right.“

He seems to have anticipated the question. Meanwhile, the shakiness in your voice is hard to conceal.

„Every model,“ he retorts, „is instructed to take that into consideration. We’re not getting together with a fellow bot who works the way we do. Mr. Kim told us many times that we have to mind the difference.“

„So this is part of the testing?“

„Yes. Underestimating it is a bad idea. Not because we want to insult a human or anything. It’s just a mechanical thing to mind. We’re just built this way. By virtue of the material if you will.“

„Yeah. You’re really strong…“

As of yet, Baekhyun’s posture holding you is still the very same. He grips you from underneath your upper back and knees without crouching or wavering. His body’s balance is absolute nuts. Every other guy would’ve shifted your weight or his feet somehow. And Baekhyun isn’t even reaching 5’10 or looks particularly buff from a distance. At the carousel, he even looked as if he was a kid.

„There’s no reason to worry,“ he immediately shakes his head. „I’ll be very careful. I know that I have to harness my strength. I’m not going to do things roughly unless you really want it.“

Now that you think about it. He could probably pulverize you with one thrust. Rest in peace, uterus.

„So, you can adapt to me, right?“

On the inside, you already beat yourself up for questioning Baekhyun like that. He’s your creation. Mr. Kim perfected him. He doesn’t have flawed human intentions or ulterior motives. Comparing him to guys who didn’t have your best interest in mind is an unfair thing. All of his body is regulated and under meticulous control. The way he kissed you at the funfair was done with impeccable measure. Everything down to the millimeter. There is no reason to mistrust him.

„If there’s anything I’m programmed to do, it’s that,“ he says through a smile, causing his cheeks to become adorably full. Up close like that, again you notice how small his face is.

„That’s, that’s true,“ you soothe yourself, and make effort to hold onto him. Although you probably wouldn’t fall off by accident even if you randomly flailed around.

„You don’t have to be afraid. I couldn’t hurt you even if I get a bug.“

„Heard about it,“ you say, recalling one of the first videos you watched about pleasure models online.

„I would shut down and Androtech gets an emergency video call that goes straight to your phone.“

Nothing less than that has also been the first bullet point in the online document you received after sending Mr. Kim your questionnaire. You signed the paper only a week ago.

„Okay. Yeah, there are many precautions. Even if your system runs on an error, nothing’s gonna happen.“

„You got it. I’ll do everything slowly, okay.“

Slowly bending forward, he plants you in the center of the sofa with the spread towel well distributed all underneath. You could roll to the side, it’d still cover the area well enough. With you on your back and feet propped up, Baekhyun joins you kneeling on his heels at a certain distance. Seeing him this way makes him look cute. It’s hard to believe that someone sitting so chastely on your sheets could probably elbow any bypassing truck into a street ditch.

You have to gather yourself again. Deep breaths from the belly. The nervousness is back stronger than ever.

Hey. This is what you got him for,  you say to yourself.

Why’d you be a chicken? Baekhyun is just as sweet as you wanted him to be. Strip and get your orgasms. That’s what he’s here for. Not hurling you to outer space or whatever. It’s rude if you pretend anything else and have him wait. You spent too much time customizing the living hell out of the website and Mr. Kim’s team worked too hard on this for you to ruin it like a scaredy-cat. This is what you wanted. Literally, exactly what you were imagining. Now do him the favor to fulfill that, and do yourself the favor. You’re more of a prick if you deprive him of things he can do for you than if you are selfish for once. This is taking way too long. It’s ridiculous. You can make this so simple.

You have to admit that the sudden inner voice came up at the right time for a pep talk. You make sure to put the right weight into your voice.

„Please take off my clothes.“

Chapter 6: Candy Apples

You exhale, mentally flip through the safeword instructions that the faculty website provided at the top of the questionnaire. Stop for stop, pausefor pause, more for more. Straightforward business. They know they’re dealing with nervous clients.

Once Baekhyun is done peeling your jeans off, he nonchalantly tosses them off the sofa knowing very well you made a strange face at him for folding his own clothes. You have to laugh and almost forget that you’re almost entirely naked in front of him for a moment.

Your voice would probably come out too squeaky and trembling at this point. So you take the liberty of reaching for Baekhyun’s wrist. It’s surprisingly small with your fingers loosely wrapped around it. His pretty fingers couldn’t be any more enticing. You questioningly shoot a glance up at him.

„Yes. Guide me,“ he whispers, and it sounds as intimate as it did last night under the fairy lights. „That’s perfect.“

As good as you can, you at least try to get more comfortable on your back. You don’t dare to laxly spread your legs yet, but manage to bring his hand close enough between them. Your voice comes out in staccato, but it’s still more stable than you thought.

„Your thumb… And your index… Please rub me.“

Baekhyun lowers his hand on your core in a soft pace.

„Okay. Very slowly,“ he says. „I’m starting now. And always say stop if you want me to. You know the safeword system, right?“

You nod.

„It said you’ll also give me clues for tapping.“

At least when the situation requires it.

„I’ll be sending Mr. Kim a message that I’m in good hands just like he thought,“ a very content Baekhyun smiles gently at you.

His touch is quite feathery at first, not lingering for too long as to see how you react. Baekhyun’s hands are sweet and slender on you, nor are his palms very wide. They both alternate on and fit well with the very spot they caress in tender intervals. You can be lucky your underwear is still on. His touch would probably shock you if it was skin-to-skin right away.

How long his fingers really are you start to feel when he drags his index finger down from your pubes, across your clit, between your labia, dusting just briefly over your clothed entrance. Your jaw feels like it’s sewn shut. The noises you want to make are too overwhelming. Baekhyun keeps on repeating his strokes until he changes to using both hands at once. Again, being very dainty how they trace the area, but not missing a single inch.

„Shit… You can use more pressure. But don’t do it for too long, Baek.“

Baekhyun doesn’t waste much time. The rubs of his thumb push down on your clit quite a little more. With the fabric of your panties between his finger and you, the friction turns into a languid heat and a slowly oozing wetness getting trapped in the spot. Only his other hand is necessary to feel yourself beginning to soak.

„That’s beautiful,“ is the only comment from him that you can hear through your upcoming moans, now finally let out.

How damp you are is accompanied by Baekhyun’s either thumb dipping into the little hill your clit makes through the white cotton, probably becoming semi-transparent with every new caress. You could go crazy.

„Do what, whatever. Use your entire hand. I mean hands. Use both. Use all your fingers.“

Your moans are thrilled. And as desperate as you’ve been trying to hide. But he only seems spurred by it. That relief helps you loosen up at least a little more.

„I’ll try something, okay. Say how you like it.“

As if the tension on your clit is not enough, Baekhyun has the compelling idea to switch from his thumbs to using both index and middle finger to prod between your labia as if they were headed to penetrate you.

They push against your entrance carefully enough not to tear the cotton, but as proper as having the juicy, wet bit of skin around the opening feel his two fingertips going for their aim with a steadfast precision. They come in just below your urethra, almost sliding past underneath it, all over the fabric, right onto your hole. He knows exactly where to position them, and keeps his fingers locked and circling in the spot.

„Fuck. You’re too good at this. Push it.“

„Once or more?“

„Do it more. Do it as if you were fucking me.“

The hem of your panties gets pulled down briefly with every tug that results from Baekhyun dipping his two fingers forward. By not even half an inch, but you can feel it. The fabric dents inward where he stiffens his fingers and lets them sink into your pussy shallow, as much as the cotton allows.

In the meantime, the upper part of his left hand is preoccupied flat against your clit, making it swell up by giving a rhythmic pulse with a surprising consistency. You grit your teeth. His expression is as concentrated and adoring as always.

You realize that obviously — Baekhyun doesn’t have a dominant hand. Why would he. Left, right, they’re both able to do the exact same thing with the exact same agility and intensity. Or completely different things without influencing each other.

With the many possible scenarios popping up in your mind by knowing that, your legs open by themselves. Baekhyun keeps on patting your clit, but going much slower to drag out the arousal. He’s taking off some pressure, but softly continues.

Meanwhile, his right hand, still pointed right at your core, pokes through your panties swift enough to deepen their reach. Your pussy is all sticky against the cotton, with the blotch of the fabric getting large enough to seep down toward your ass. Before, the wetness had been thin and trickling, but now grows much more viscous and lubricating.

The resulting slick noises are making you feel more turned on than embarrassed. Baekhyun has somehow managed to make it sound more sexy than you thought it could be.

His eager, lowered brows moving along in the smallest arches with every dip only contribute to your legs drifting further apart. Although he is still kneeling as before, he’s hunching forward now. His eyes are stuck on you like magnets. Baekhyun is mesmerized. Either of your inner thighs can feel his breath. Your left thigh even gets a little tickle by his hair strands, right where you are sensitive.

„Baekhyun, ah shit—!”

It’s so hard to hold it together. With an erratic buck out of nowhere, your hips skew Baekhyun’s aim to the upward right. His fingers end up pressing right into your outer labia with the same momentum he just used on your entrance.

You gasp out. Before he can even apologize, you secure his hand right in the spot with your own.

How fast your reflex was rips Baekhyun’s eyes from your pussy and gives you a spike in adrenaline. His surprised face makes you strangely horny.

„No no, go on,“ you bring his fingers right into place. „Squeeze my lips. Please make them really swollen. I want them as red as the candy apples you saw at the fair. Make them so you’ll want to have a big juicy bite.“

„Oh, you can bet.“

The usually so light and sweet smile that Baekhyun carries so often becomes a lot darker, sexier now. His eyes are like two pieces of coal from underneath his bangs. There’s no doubt in his tone. He will execute everything you say to the last drop.

You can already tell what you got yourself into. Ambition is something that you can leave to him. You gave him enough food to chew and devour. Suddenly, Baekhyun’s pussy crazy face is something you want to provoke even more.

„Show me how much you love them. Don’t hold back.“

„I won’t.“

„Make it really filthy for me. Do it like worship.“

„Time for some lip service.“

Baekhyun’s left hand wanders down from your clit. Together with his right hand, it digs into the fabric of your panties to get hold of your labia. One between his thumb and index each, he gives a juicy squeeze to test them, gathering them up in their full fleshiness.

They’re too wet for Baekhyun to have enough grip on them if he just pinches them from either side. He has to use three fingers at once and even succeeds in pulling them forward just enough to have your clit enclosed behind them.

The crotch area of your panties is not wide enough to cover your lips like that. With Baekhyun massaging their inner edge with both of his thumbs, you soon have to deal with the soaked fabric no longer veiling the entire area. The craving in your voice almost takes you aback.

„Shove it to the middle, now. Let me feel your hands. Skin to skin. Do it.“

Baekhyun instantly complies. He centers and lines your panties across your clit that gets a bulky, rubbing coverage that way, all while exposing your bare lips on either side. The fabric stretches across your pussy almost like a thong. The unspoken wow on Baekhyun’s lips does not escape your attention. Nor does the way his tongue darts out. The way he brings his hands on your labia makes your body jerk and wind, twisting the towel underneath your back. His face is so much closer, both the warmth of his breath and the heat of the friction of his fingers makes your arousal pool into even more wetness.

„We’ll change this up,“ you say, catching Baekhyun fully alert.

„Tell me.“

You’re sweating. The idea that comes up in your mind is so many times dirtier than what you first thought while he was kissing you at the carousel — that you have to gather your breath several times.

„Tug here,“ you bring Baekhyun’s left hand to the front part of your underwear. „Pull it upwards. And press my lips together with one hand.“

Bringing up your panties this way leaves the middle line of fabric thinner, as well as tight and squeezing around your clit and labia minora. It slides between your ass cheeks and pulls against both of your holes at the same time.

That way, Baekhyun has an easier time squeezing the outer lips together quite firmly. They’ve become pink and red like ripe strawberries. Your pulse is racing like crazy.

How Baekhyun presses them with his fingers curling forward, your clit becomes even more closed in. Both the tightened up fabric digging into its sides as well as from the front, and the grip of Baekhyun’s right hand on your entire pussy leaves it attacked from all angles. The squeeze is strong and far too delicious.

„Fuck, so lewd, fuck!“

The arousal is like a luscious burn spreading. But it doesn’t sting or rub your clit enough to give it relief. You’re left in limbo, with your pussy lips growing plumper in Baekhyun’s never-tired, busy fingers. You want him to eat and slurp you up whole and stuff his mouth full, and have him trail his cotton candy tongue all over your big clit, but know very well that you’d come in seconds and probably pass out. Your legs twitch far too much already.

„Pause. I’m, I’m not gonna let you eat it for now. For now, Baekhyun. But you know how it would be like.“

Baekhyun stops. He very well knows.

„Your lips, they—“

You wish you had his cock between them and you know he knows, too.

„Need a good filling,“ you whisper to him. „A big one. Big and glazing and oozing.“

Pouring out as much as possible. You can picture it so well. Baekhyun hums right along.

„Yes, Y/N.“

„I can’t wait for much longer. You have something for me?“

„I have.“

Baekhyun’s fingers loosen carefully now. Slow, as not to give you the accidental push over the edge now that the pressure on your clit subsides and it becomes sensitive, easy to set off. Eventually, he is able to let go completely without triggering your orgasm. It leaves you throbbing and even hornier than before.

„Do you want to, or should I?“ he points toward the hem of his pants. You both end up smirking a little to yourselves. You know it’s your favorite part.

„Won’t be taking chances with this one,“ you breathe out, then scoot forward from your recline to hook your fingers at his abdomen. Time to inspect. It’s a welcome break to let your clit off the hook a bit. He’s even warmer than his wrists there.

You only realize that there’s no reason for him to wear boxers underneath when you’re already halfway nearing the spot that seems too bulged out for your own good. Way too bulged out. Shoving Baekhyun’s pants down to his knees entirely, you get to see that Mr. Kim’s engineers really did overwork themselves.

Just as you requested, this part of him has been left deliberately hybrid — the skin showing an actual silver-blue sheen from underneath. Inside, you see copper and titanium-plated ligaments and movable layers that intertwine like fish scales. Outside, a highly elastic blend of silicone and texture-giving material. It’s matte and a bit opaque, but still akin to actual veins being visible in how it’s sculpted.

Baekhyun’s subtle curve looks remarkably elegant. Almost mathematical. You could put his dick next to the Fibonacci Spiral and it would be uncanny.

Now with his trousers removed, you see how easily everything rises and expands even more. The layers inside his cock glide alongside each other seamlessly without the startling noise you expected them to make. Their sound is absolutely minimal.

„That’s the dick I wanted.“

„All for you, Miss. Try it out.“

Chapter 7: Custom Shapes

You can’t resist the urge to touch him, trace a finger across the right side. How easy to the eye the material appears is evenly matched by how soft and smooth his entire length is, peaking in a subtly formed tip with cascading angles. Neither too broad nor bulbous, nor with a protruding edge, promising an easy insertion and smooth thrusts. There’s a deliberate bit of foreskin adhering to it, closing the transition between tip and shaft in a harmonious way. You love his cock. But one thing you want to kick yourself for.

You’ve entirely overestimated yourself in terms of how many inches you want him to get like an idiot. Not to mention the girth.

It’s almost as big as your whole fist. He’s going to absolutely destroy you. You feel your hands starting to shake. The adrenaline drops into a panic.

„It’s too big, Baekhyun. I’m scared.“

„Y/N…“

„I’m really not used to this. It’s going to hurt me.“

Even before you finish speaking, he immediately shakes his head.

„No, no, I’m sorry if it comes across as that. I can make it squeeze more easily if you want. I can do that.“

„Can you?“

„That’s what the plates inside are for. You can try it out. Press it if you want.“

Calming yourself feels hard to do right now. But you follow his suggestion, giving the middle part a proper squeeze. First hesitant, but then, more firmly.

Kinetic memory, you remind yourself.

And he didn’t lie. Everything becomes a lot more malleable than you thought.

The little scale parts visibly rearrange. Where you apply pressure, and it’s still not much at this point, the girth recedes, and slowly bulges back out after you retreat your fingers again.

„So… okay. Okay. It does feel different. That’s working. But it’s still really huge…“

Baekhyun comes to assuage you with his voice now.

„I’m not going to rip you apart, okay. It also doesn’t expand back once I’m inside you.

„It doesn’t?“

„I can make it adapt to how you want it to be.“

The plating does look like it allows for a lot of flexibility. And decent elasticity for that matter. You soothe yourself by squeezing him again, watching the diameter contract inside your palm.

„That’s, that’s good news. And I thought I’d get impaled.“

„It has a metal core but it doesn’t necessarily stay the same,“ Baekhyun continues. „If you want to take it into your mouth, I can do that as well and make it smaller.“

„It’s what I’ve been thinking. I’d get lockjaw otherwise. You have one fat monster.“

Whatever you were thinking when you gave him almost an underarm worth of length on the website, something got the best of you — despite things being so predictable and his customization being entirely up to you.

„I hope I didn’t scare you too much.“

Baekhyun himself reaches down now to squeeze his cock next to your own hand until the copper layers contract. The firmer he does it, the more it adapts. It’s like he said. Maybe you can actually fit this. A big lump that’s been coiling up in your stomach slowly dissolves with that thought.

You also notice that Baekhyun is completely still even if you’re practically in a death grasp around his dick. Anybody else would be squealing and writhing. You again realize. He feels absolutely nothing.

It is all meant just for you.

You have to get that fact into your head. It’s all crafted for your enjoyment. Of course it’s not going to be some immovable way-too-large-dildo attached him. For the amount of money you paid, anyways. You could swear a third of your budget was used to give Baekhyun a high tech wonder wand.

„The good thing,“ he says, „about being made instead of born is that it can be three in one. I know why men easily envy pleasure models who are built in such a way.“

Wait a second. You perk up. What does that mean.

„Three in one… sizes?“

„Exactly,“ Baekhyun begins to recount. „Mister Park phrased it like this. A big girth to look at, medium size for penetration, and a shorter version for oral. Especially if you are concerned. You have a strong gag reflex.“

It’s hard to believe your ears right now.

„How—How did you—“

„While I was making breakfast. I looked into the freezer to see if we have pizza for lunch. And I saw your box with mixed brands of popsicles.“

„Oh…“

That box.

„The smaller ones are almost all gone.“

He must’ve looked at the back of the box where the types of ice cream are all listed.

„Yeah. The mini cones and such.“

And the sandwiches with three types of ice cream inside. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. Your favorites. But why would that even matter? You look at Baekhyun completely incredulous. What on earth was he getting at?

„But the elongated ones,“ he draws an approximate image into the air with his index, „that you have to squeeze out of a tube are untouched. It’s the type of ice cream that you have to wait to melt to rise up from the paper wrap. And when they do and you squeeze, it can shoot up suddenly. That can be uncomfortable to eat for some people. If you have a sensitive throat, you’ll avoid it.“

You feel caught for something you didn’t even commit. How could he make such an accurate conclusion based on what you didn’t eat? You already saw at the funfair how easily he could look up information about food on the spot. Maybe that’s exactly what he did. But still, he connected two seemingly unrelated things without breaking a sweat. He’s really learning fast.

„I’m dating Sherlock Holmes.“

The colorful breakfast fruit plate Baekhyun served up was too delicious to notice that he’d already inspected and organized every inch of your kitchen. Not to mention he was wearing one of your cute aprons with little dancing piglets and sheep on them which distracted you until the toast got cold.

„I’m not going to ignore the hints if they’re right in front of my eyes. Avoiding your discomfort is my first priority.“

You go figure.

„So… you can make it even more perky, then?“

„Not to an extreme degree. But molded to the width of your jaw and teeth,“ Baekhyun points at your chin. „So it will slide in and out very easily.“

„Oh, alright?“

You raise your brows. So it can actually change its shape even more than how he just showed you. You’re starting to like this.

„It’s not going to be painful or make you choke unless you push for it. But when I decrease the length, that shouldn’t happen anyway.“

It really does seem practical. Three in one. The perky version for oral. Why not, the best of all worlds. It’s an advantage of technology, as weird as it sounds.

You mentally send blessings to whoever in the testing department had the guts to brief the colleagues that the big girth version is more eye candy rather than recommended for use. You’d probably clamp up or scream the roof down if he fucked you like that. Let alone do deepthroat.

„Does this mean… you can make it an imprint that fits my mouth? Can I see it?“

He’s really making you curious. You’ve indicated a vague idea of something like that in the questionnaire, but never assumed that the engineers would bother making it into something complex. Up until now, you have to urge yourself to not underestimate how easily inspired they must have been. Somebody really went off.

„I can give you a short demonstration if you help me a little,“ Baekhyun reaches for the towel at the end of the bed, drying off his hands with gentle rubbing motions.

„Okay, just tell me.“

„All you have to do is take it in very slowly. And consistently. It will shape itself that way. I’ll have to give you a few pointers. Can I do that, you want to try this?“

„Sounds good.“

„You can always pinch here if you don’t want to anymore,“ Baekhyun indicates a spot at his right thigh that is just within reach.

„I got it. Just pinch,“ you repeat for yourself, and settle to get comfortable, push your hair out of your face.

At first, positioning yourself is a little difficult because you have to bend forward from your own seated position to reach his crotch, but you end up figuring it out without having to put strain on your foot.

Little by little, you guide in Baekhyun’s tip.

It immediately begins to waver and bend inside your mouth. Meanwhile, judging by the little nestling and a soft tug at the back of your head, Baekhyun has used the hair tie to pull your hair into a ponytail.

While you had immediately laid the tie aside after he returned from the bathroom and forgot about what it was supposed to do out of nervousness, he kept an eye on it.

Baekhyun is that motherfucker, you say to yourself. Let’s do this.

Given that the keyword seemed to be consistency, you remind yourself to keep going stably, keeping your lips loose around him. As if you were eating an ice cube, you avoid using your teeth like hell. You must look ridiculous opening up this wide.

„Don’t worry about scraping me once or twice, the silicone is sturdy,“ Baekhyun says, letting his right hand glide under your jaw. „Prop your chin on my palm. I show you how wide you have to open to make it comfortable.“

Whatever sturdiness there is supposed to be, all you feel is the slightly velvety surface of his cock’s underside lathering against your tongue. You would have thought it takes some lube to make it glide, but it’s not as painfully dry as you thought. Neutral it does taste, but it’s not a desert dry material.

With Baekhyun’s hand under your jaw, you get a better sense of opening up soon. He’s really touching you very gently.

„You feel how it re-forms itself, right. Is it okay like this?

„N—hm.“

„Keep sliding it in for just a little more. You’re doing great.“

Doing so is really surprisingly easy. Where you thought his dick would bump against, there’s basically nothing happening at all.

„Excuse me when I say that. You have a perfectly shaped mouth cave,“ Baekhyun smiles. „But I already know from kissing you.“

What must have sounded like the creepiest compliment in any other situation actually makes you hum and smile a little. You begin to understand just how seriously he seeks to map out your body. Nobody has ever truly bothered to do that.

In the meantime, you notice your nose approaching a dead stop at his loins and your lower lip pressing against what must be the most supple balls of all time. You’re sure that he didn’t make those shrink.

„They’re as big as they were before,“ Baekhyun confirms, vigilant eye he is. „The rest is already close to fully imprinted by now. I just need you to move your head back and forth a little. That helps me gauge how you angle it and what your lips tend to do. Add a bit of variation if you want.“

Doing just that proves to be more fun than you thought. You bop your head a little slower, a little faster. Shallow, then all the way to have your forehead meet his abdomen. It really is… easy?

His size has decreased significantly. You didn’t gag at all so far. Baekhyun doesn’t feel as if he’s just stuck there and ramming in. That you’ve already taken his entire length in so early makes you feel really accomplished, too.

While you move your head, you can feel his dick change a little on your tongue. You even let it slide in sidewards to poke into your cheek, then pull out to kiss the tip of his dick, making Baekhyun smile even more brightly.

„I see you’re good at this. And I really love your lips. They’re pretty.“

You inspect the very slicked up shaft before you with great interest. Without really going at it fully, you already really salivated a lot on it. But even more notable is the unusual shape it’s changed into. It’s assumed a downward curve and has dents where your tongue and teeth were located a second ago. The tip is also much more streamlined. It could probably reach down your throat a little more without having you coughing all over the place.

„The imprint is done, right? That looks really impressive.“

„As good as finished. I save that in my memory data. It can reform at any time you wish it to.“

So that’s part of kinetic learning, too, then — custom dick shapes.

„Mh, interesting. Thanks for doing this, Baek.“

You straighten from your former position and smile at him.

„I might use a similar shape if you ask me to do anal. Just slightly larger. I think I can fit into you very well overall.“

As if he couldn’t be any more adorable, he puts his thumb up with the most innocent face.

„Oh man. I’m so glad I got you, Baek.“

He’s very well read that your questionnaire had a clear preference when it comes to butt stuff.

„Thank you very much. If you want to do this often and get a little practice, I can even help you slide it down your esophagus a little more. I promise you won’t gag or get narrow.“

You don’t doubt it’s possible anymore. Who knows what other freaky templates he can bend into.

„This dick really is magic,“ you lick off some excess saliva from your lips.

„All it is is being designed so you can do whatever you want with it. Everything to your liking.“

You scratch your head.

„And I thought I’d get into trouble doing this.“

Lord knows every blowjob so far has landed you in making a scene or teary eyes. Especially if you tried to shove it down even if you couldn’t reach balls deep. Silly ambition again. And you thought you’d quit this all together.

„Just because you have a limit to depth,“ Baekhyun wipes a little thread of spit from your chin, „doesn’t mean you have to do away with your oral fixation. I really saw you having fun trying different techniques. And it looked like it was very pleasant stimulation for your tongue and saliva flow. If you want do this, you can always ask.“

You get a little flustered at him saying that. Not that he’s wrong. In any sense at all, actually.

„I think you’ll have to get ready to be in my throat a lot during the mornings. With my favorite cherry lube.“

Oh god. That is going to be… very slobbery and heated.

Nothing screams more ‚already am, come get your face fucked at 4:15AM I don’t care‘ than Baekhyun’s eyes right now.

„If you want something tasty before breakfast I’ll have no problems preparing that also.“

He does an invisible hat tip. So serving up fruit is not exclusive to the kitchen then. You find yourself getting euphoric.

„And… we will get to anal some time,“ you mumble under your breath. „Put some prep stuff on our online grocery list.“

„Yes, Ma’am. Just noted. I hope I can thrill you.“

As if you were getting into your car for the first time all over again, Baekhyun dons his best butler voice and you’re starting to fancy it.

„With that wonder boy you have in your pants, I’m thinking I met my match, you know.“

The type you wanna say I do to in a special ceremony separately.

„Precisely how it should be.“

„And, Baekhyun… With the special request idea. I don’t know how to say it. I want to extend this a little to oral as well. Maybe even today.“

„Will get back to it in about an hour.“

So he’s already calculated the route, then.

One hour sounds like a challenge to you, but at this point: You might as well trust what he’s got on his mind. He estimates you better than you do yourself anyway. You’re glad you didn’t move to penetration right away to begin with. Your pussy had enough time to calm down a bit. The swelling is still very much there, however. And your panties are nothing short of a mess. They’re basically sopping.

„As for going on now… I probably don’t have to tell you how wet I am,“ you take a deliberate look down your thighs.

„If you want to know my exact train of thought. I’ve already planned when I’ll wash your ruined underwear. 3:30PM.“

You have to giggle. The mere thought of that image. And he’s really taken over the household like a whirlwind.

It’s time you get to your part of the equation again. Mr. Kim’s imperative returns to you. Your turn to give Baekhyun some more input. With a dick like that, you can think of more instructions than you could list in one go. You build yourself up and place your hand just where you cupped his chin during your kiss on the fair.

„Then I plan you take them off — at now PM.“

You can almost hear a series of programmes running behind Baekhyun’s flickering eyes. Who knows what he is analyzing in his head again. Eventually, he flashes his cute little smile again and ushers you.

„Here?“ He questioningly points back to the center of the sofa where you started out, and you lie down right there.

Funny how much you sidetracked and moved around in the meantime.

Not thinking about transitioning into another position has made it much more effortless and nowhere near as awkward as you thought it would be.

And in hindsight, you were easily swayed into an unexpected intermezzo. Guess you love sucking his dick already. Which is just how Baekhyun offered it to you. All yours. Big and fat and bendy and perfect, morphing itself in whatever makes you hot. You want to shout it from the rooftops, right at all the Mister Lees of the world.

But upon second thought? Better not tell especially your nosy friends from work how hooked you are before they ask for more details.

Hwasa means well, but she would end up telling your damn boss by accident or something. Or Taemin, he would gossip about it on his twitter without name-dropping you, but everybody would know regardless. Meanwhile, Xiumin would make a vlog about „How To Perfectly Clean Your Flat“ and mention it in passing. Chen’s wife would watch it and tell Chen and Kai. Kai would absolutely tell Hyuna and Lisa. And Hyuna would absolutely tell Lay, and Lay would tell Kai, and by that time, the president would probably know.

Treasuring this all for yourself seems like the better thing to do. You want to protect Baekhyun even if he’s the last person on the block who probably needs it. Maybe it’s also a sense of protecting yourself. Maybe some of your friends wouldn’t be averse to getting a leisure bot themselves, but the rest of them still prized even their toxic partners as better than someone like Baekhyun, even if his kind had been part of the society for long enough.

You take note of making impromptu experiments like that for the future regardless.

By now, Baekhyun undresses you fully. Steady hands, steady eyes. Giving your legs a lusciously slow caress that gives you goosebumps. Pulling down your panties with a lot of deliberation, and giving you a good view of his cock. It’s shaping itself back and grows a little again, adding in girth and becoming less streamlined. It curves upward now, revealing a very plump and tight set of balls underneath. You’ve briefly felt them, but didn’t have the chance for a closer look. Now that you think about it, they’re even bigger than before. How it happened, you don’t know.

They seem to be pulsing and turning something white and silver metallic on the inside now. Making them appear… even larger. Two generous scoops of light pink seaside parlor ice cream. Discernable as a pair, but still perfectly one like a pillow. Not sagging very far down even if they seem to move around quite easily. They can probably slap and cushion against your clit if you go for doggy style with decent speed. The noises would be so nasty, you’d have to record it. You curse your foot for not permitting that anytime soon.

So— that thought will leave you high and dry for some time, then.

Makes that damn Achilles’ Heel getting his ever-loving shit together an even sweeter feat to look forward to, actually. So Baekhyun can really drive it home. You get kind of heated at that image in your mind. He is great at giving it to you from behind, you just know it. Now, everything he does well. But this one in particular. You get all sweaty with that idea again.

Baekhyun is still all the way preoccupied with pulling your panties past the knees, upbeat and kind in his expression. And calm, endlessly calm. Every movement, it’s all in perfect ease. You look like a jittery mess compared to him on your back right now.

„Shit, man,“ you bite down your lips after a desperate sigh. This couldn’t be any more tantalizing.

Chapter 8: The Bigger Picture

„Should I stop?“ his hands linger at your ankles, panties almost stripped off your legs. You can already feel the relief of not drowning in yourself anymore.

„No, I,“ you shift around on your back. How the hell do you explain this. „I wish I could stay calm like that, I’m not gonna lie to you. Sorry if I’m one of those bot envy people.“

No use in beating around the bush. He’d read it out of you anyways.

„And I wish I could shake as beautifully as you, you see.“

A comforting eye smile rises underneath his bangs. It gets a hold on you in a way that’s inexplicable.

Don’t you remember him with the cotton candy taste, you think. If anything, the envy is mutual. You’re pretty slow.

He’s trying his best to understand you.

You might want to start reciprocating that. Baekhyun can’t feel human happiness. But he can feel like he’s fulfilling his task. So help him with that, for God’s sake. Your part of the equation isn’t done after paying some money and taking him home or whatever. Being with a bot is more than that. He doesn’t have the needs of a human, but there are conditions that have to be met regardless.

„Point taken, Baekhyun.“

His cheesiness is cute. No use in not trying to tremble either, then. You can’t be him and he can’t be you. Might as well embrace yourself so he can work with it.

Baekhyun finishes the swipe of his movement and settles more closely, sitting on his heels just as before. You’re starting to think that it’s his signature posture.

„And I don’t mind if you envy me,“ he says, offering his hands for you to hold.

„You don’t?“

„There’s cold envy and there’s warm envy. It’s all about how much you like the person. You don’t hate me, right.“

„No, how would I? I really— like you.“

You close either hand around his.

„Then it’s warm envy,“ Baekhyun nods.

„I think… I understand.“

„And you need to know that I adore you also.“

A little squeeze of his hands accompanies his words. You’re caught off guard. All you can think of as a reply is a nod, unable to meet his eyes. You’re at a loss of words entirely. Here you go again.

Maybe the time has come that machines have a better grasp on emotions than humans. They have to teach it back to them.

You try to hide your embarrassment by a little stutter, but he’s already lowering his head down to you, again facing you close by. Close enough for you to see the light golden fuzz of his skin that actually almost seems silver under the artificial lighting of the room.

„So if you want me to do anything for you. Just do the same thing as before. You’ve done it well.“

„I don’t think so,“ you chew at your bottom lip, very well convinced that all you did was being a mess. Baekhyun must be seriously frustrated with this amount of all-too-human chaos.

„There are clients that take at least four to five trials to instruct their leisure models properly. You’ve already managed at first try, you see.“

Your jaw legitimately drops. Probably even lower than when you saw Baekhyun step out of the capsule.

„Five attempts?“

„Some send their bots back because they can’t get themselves to do it at all,“ he affirms. „But either way, those are likely the clients who’d rather apply to purchase automatic models in the first place.“

Automatic models.

You remember. Now you count one and one together — Mr. Kim talked about these bots. You never even realized. The ones seemingly everybody was ordering which drove the whole faculty staff into an endless scientific boredom.  

„Most client requests we get want some kind of he-man. They only spend twenty minutes customizing their bot on the website, if not less. Our engineers rarely get to equip a bot with so much pizzazz.“

In fact, these are the bots of a cheaper price range that run on the exact same automatism over and over for the lack of not having any other programming or sentience.

You don’t have to look no further than imagining that they work like a generic sex toy. They’re just in humanoid shape. A fruit plate for breakfast they can’t serve. They don’t have any interest in cotton candy either. The client can only switch them on for intercourse and enjoy maybe two or three default positions at best before their bot goes back to sleep again. They don’t talk freely, they don’t think, they don’t ask questions. They do their job, but they’re not…

Boyfriends.

You suddenly don’t regret spending forever at the PC to fill in forms and paying a lot more money to the faculty anymore.

„What? That’s insane. I never knew.“

How lucky you are to have Baekhyun is an overwhelming thought. If you’re entirely honest with yourself— it even gives you something that feels like butterflies. It’s strange.

„We non-automatic models can only do what we’re supposed to when we get asked.“

„Yeah.“

„Even most things a client requested in the past can’t be done again without a second permission. You have to instruct us in every new situation.“

„Yes, Mr. Kim really emphasized that.“

You feel better knowing that you have read between the lines correctly. Mr. Kim said a lot of things that sounded very complex and removed from daily life, but he managed to convey the most important thing about Baekhyun.

„I have always heard from Mr. Park that many female clients who give their bot back aren’t even the type of person who has troubles speaking their wishes. They don’t have any wishes at all. I think they’ve given up on themselves.“

He looks so downtrodden saying that. The image in your mind looks just as depressing. You want to curl yourself up.

„Wow. Wow, that… sounds scary.“

„Already by law, we can’t dictate them what we want as a replacement for their lacking preferences. Even if that is what they’re expecting. And then, they blame it on us if we stay passive during sex. It’s an unfair game.“

You can already picture how many cases like that must’ve happened.

Mr. Kim was absolutely right to let non-automatic bots decide over who they want to match with or not.

For way other reasons you had naïvely assumed. To be fair, you are still a beginner with this and AndroTech’s terms of service page was a jargon novel in font size 4, bearable as a skim at best.

„So it would even break the law,“ you find yourself even more startled. „To engage in acts that were not… requested on the spot?“

„Yes. But it’s not all clear-cut. Some bots are enabled and do try hard to read their client’s true wishes out of them, and they take the lead to get things started. Especially when a client is extremely nervous on the first day.“

„Oh…“

„You’ve seen me do it with you. How to touch you, whether I can drive and cook for you, how we relax before sleeping. You saw that I was forward with you to take the pressure off. I even picked you up without asking.“

„Yeah, I saw. I understand it now.“

Pretty much from the very first moment. Baekhyun probably knew you didn’t want to walk the corridors to the faculty exit the moment he looked at you. And he did take the lead, and asked about your every reaction hoping he anticipated exactly the right thing you didn’t dare voice.

„Which can be uncomfortable, but the client very clearly has something in mind and they end up saying it. But you can’t use coercion or skip that they say it.“

You give a small „M-hm“ in response and feel the guilt rush over your face.

„That shyness or shameful feeling at the start we can deal with. But in other cases, a person only wants the bot to tell them what to do. Which we’re not allowed to,“ Baekhyun’s voice shifts to a much graver tone. „We are the ones who adapt to the client. We don’t have a motivation to give orders, either.“

„Motivation?“

This keeps on getting more and more puzzling.

„If you can’t feel something, you can’t desire something. Take me— I don’t know what a sense of satisfaction is. And our base programming is to be of service. Even if we did something random that we saw fit just to give a command. It’d be illegal.“

At first, you wonder why the rule would not apply to the automatic he-man bots, but it was actually making sense. The client had decided on their limited programming. Switching them on was giving permission itself, and they could be turned off at any moment.

Meanwhile, a bot like Baekhyun had variation to his actions and was constantly running on AndroTech’s special power generator, lord knows what it did to run all day. Now, if any of his actions were against your will, or he did something without being asked: He would be taken away from you.

If he gave you a decisive order completely unprompted: His programming would be permanently deactivated almost on the spot, even. Bots trying to guess what their clients had on their mind were walking a tightrope.

„This is a much more serious thing than I thought.“

You puff out. Baekhyun gives a wholehearted nod.

„You can tell we have to be careful to find clients who know what they want.“

„I never thought of it that way. But yeah. I can see how the faculty gets into trouble otherwise.“

„Yes. It’s a huge problem.“

And you were as silly as assuming that bot abuse was the biggest issue in the industry. Turns out clients who want their leisure models to break the law are the real skeleton in the closet.

It’s starting to become a bigger picture to you. The repercussions are so much more expensive and damaging for the company image. A bot that an angry client kicked around was only a nuisance if repair was concerned. The whole thing was kind of bizarre.

„I’ll be very careful,“ you assure. „To fulfill my side of the contract.“

„Y/N. You are the last person who’d concern me. I have been sure from the start that you are the ideal person to be with. It’s why I agreed so fast to Mr. Kim’s question whether I want to match up or not. Most bots will ask Mr. Kim to postpone that question so they can gauge their client in a testing period.“

„They… do?“

„Yes.“

„But I already made a mistake,“ you say, remembering how you started out today. „I don’t think I’m ideal or something like that.“

Baekhyun’s following blink is more than knowing.

„That you question yourself tells me you’re a good client. Bad clients don’t self-reflect.“

Maybe you’ve done at least that right.

„I see?“

„You might become reserved or berate yourself sometimes. But that you wrote down 280 specifics for Mr. Kim tells me everything. Once the nervousness dissolves, you do the right thing already and I see your nature. You wish for a lot of things. That makes you ideal to me. I can take care of this one thing at a time.“

He plants a brief, but passionate kiss on the back of your left hand. The cheesy motherfucker got you again.

„Baekhyun, I…“

„That gives me a lot to work with. I hope you look forward to all this. We’ll spend many great nights.“

His charming little smile and dark eyes are as encouraging as ever. Thinking about the many options of 280 makes you giddy already.

„I do. And… I really want to see how the Special Request feels like.“

Your legs are like squirming jelly at this point. Very much unlike Baekhyun who’s stable and resting — in promise of great stamina.

„I’m ready if you are. I’m sorry if my talking delayed this. But I think some last few questions had to get out of the way. As for the request: There’s not much I need to prepare for it.“

Chapter 9: You Look Really Beautiful

„We’ll be starting with… you know. Lower medium size?“

You shift in the sheets, stuttering that out like a pre-schooler, but who the hell cares at this point. It’s not like you didn’t invent all of this.

„All as you want it,“ says Baekhyun with just the right touch of yielding in his tone. How he makes this sound so impeccably polite is a mystery.

„This is really easy to insert,“ he continues, giving a light caress against your cheek. You don’t miss just how much it is meant to be an encouraging touch. Your face feels tingly.

„Okay, let’s give it a shot, then.“

While Baekhyun reshapes the plates, you recline with your knees pulled toward your torso, making sure to place your wonky foot in an unobtrusive way. So far, it’s only complained while you were climbing around trying to find a position to suck Baekhyun off. Sweet baby Jesus. If your heel would ruin your first time, you’d curse your clumsiness forever and sign up at AndroTech to get your legs android-ized if that were even possible.

You’d probably make a good cyborg now that you think about it. With your new steel-inforced feet and knee caps, you’d be one robot step closer to blowing and riding Baekhyun to infinity until his dick needs repair, which you… already plan to do anyways.

„Can you stimulate me like before, please. Just by using your cock now. I’m so horny for it.“

„Of course.“

Baekhyun glides the tip up and down your outer and inner labia alternatingly, then lets it rub all over your clit. Which happens so smoothly. You’re more than wet. He’s drenched you so hard.

Shit.

It doesn’t take many prods until your arousal returns at its fullest, and Baekhyun strikes a complimenting tone in the middle of letting the underside of his shaft tap against the swelling rose bud.

„Your pussy is really pretty. It’s like pink clouds to me.“

He makes a little innocent face. He’s too adorable. Still, you swallow. So it’s time to bring the funfair to this sofa, then, is it.

„I really— want you to stretch it nicely,“ you grab hold of his cock. „So that the filling can seep in really far. I want a lot of it. And after you filled me, you make me cum.“

„I will, Y/N. I prepared a lot for you,“ he nods. „And it’s enriched with pheromones.“

Pheromones.

So the faculty did find ways to flavor things. Realizing that, you already feel twice as horny as before.

„Shit, it’s gonna smell so good. Put it in, put it in… I want to know how it feels.“

You fumble with his tip at your entrance, and Baekhyun lifts his hips accordingly. It slides in for an inch, giving your entrance an idea of the diameter so far.

While you first squeezed his dick in your hand, the surface felt very matte. Now, with Baekhyun carefully securing his cock between the soft embrace of your lips, it makes for a great sensation of grip and stretch paired with how wet you are. His medium girth is really not bad at all even if it’s downsized. In fact, it’s pushing at your entrance in the juiciest way. With no panties in between anymore. You realize that it’s really about to go down.

„Baekhyun, oh god. Oh god. It’s good. Put your hands around my waist.“

He swiftly does, no second wasted. His fingers, his palms, his wrists— are so soft. You notice that his right hand sits significantly lower than the left one, pretty much on the hip bone. You already want to ask him to move it upwards that you realize he’s seen the scar from your appendix surgery and avoided putting his hand on it.

„Do you want me to slide in more along the way?“

„Yes, more.“

You can tell that Baekhyun knows the exact angle to glide into you. With his hands suavely placed on you now, he adjusts your pelvis without needing leverage. The sheer given shape of his palms has your body melt into the right posture. Eventually, his cock tip makes its way down your walls, bulging them apart. Baekhyun’s length gliding into you has you feel the entirety of his shaft pushing in with a proper thickness. A perfect languid strain, making your pussy feel amazingly filled and bursting with veiny, girthy cock.

„Fuck. Please use your fingers, Baekhyun,“ you gasp out, feel your lungs contract. „And kiss me all over.“

He keeps on sliding in. Leaves little kisses on your nose and sweat-glazed collar bones, breasts, neck. His plush little lips make pecking noises that sound all the way dirtier when he turns them into desperate moans. Baekhyun sure knows how to push your buttons. You’re about to go nuts entirely.

One hand leaving your waist, he adds a consistent stroke at your clit until he surprises you with slowly hitting balls deep.

Already?

„I’m in. How does it feel?“

It really is good to insert.

The heat from your clit mixes with the satisfaction of Baekhyun now being fully curved inside you. He was so much easier to take than you were afraid of.

„It’s amazing to me.“

A squeeze from your muscles comfortably locks Baekhyun, who gently lowers his posture above you, in the spot. Just enough for you to let your fingertips ghost over the center of his abs. His body is so warm, almost heated.

Then, you reach for his face and kiss him deeply. His tongue immediately picks up your pacing, swirls around yours in an intricate dance. The passion overflows. You want so much more.

„Start thrusting. Stimulate me.“

Accompanied with a faster flick of his fingers on your clit, Baekhyun lets his cock pulse in and out of you without removing much of its length. The inward tug at your walls pushes your womb along with it. Baekhyun’s width is just right in spreading your pussy apart, and how he gets you off brings more slickness to each thrust. You feel yourself getting really swollen up and bubbling wet, even more than before.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

„Make it grow a little,“ you push the words past your tense jaw. „And then give me the first special request.“

Again, he doesn’t hesitate. The sudden growth spurt takes a bit off the speed out of Baekhyun’s plunge, but soon increases again. It’s because his cock has started to leak inside, pouring more and more lubrication around itself.

„Is that good?“

His thrusts make the velvety liquid surface at the base of his cock. Very slowly, but surely. He’s fucking it out of you so well. Almost instantly, the smell is intoxicating. A hefty concoction of vanilla, fruit, and something very sharp and musky layered over it. A very masculine and upbeat spice that is like an electric current. The liquid keeps oozing from your entrance with every thrust, bringing more of the scent to live.

„Fuck. Please more. That’s so good. Hold me when I buck up, Baekhyun!“

The special request is nothing but a liquid mechanism that lets Baekhyun pump you full of milky white pre-cum. Whenever you want, mid-fuck at full speed, or as a quick filling without much prep. With a big load or just a little portion as lube, anything goes. Baekhyun has to refill the material with special cartilages every now and then, but it’s compressed like the foam of a whipped cream bottle. Just a lot more fluid. And way, way too loaded with artificial pheromones for your brain to handle. Your pussy explodes with oozing pre-cum and the tension of pleasure alike. You really can’t handle it. Still dizzy from the kiss, your tongue is all loose and erratic anyway.

„Not, ah—! To ask for something I can’t handle for the twentieth time or something! Fucking shit!“

You take a deep breath. Even a fast look between your thighs has you clenching. Everything is so creamy. And sticky. And milky. All with his cock buried right in the soaking middle of it. Baekhyun really gave you a full-on A class preview for the special request.

„Ask away. Even if it’s unrealistic. I make things feasible. That’s my job if anything,“ he looks more friendly than ever at you. Mr. Kim couldn’t sport a smile any better. Jesus Christ, he’s patient with you.

„I think I got some greed but, uh.“

„No worries. I can work with that. Greedy girls are the best girls.“

„Can you just, cockwarm me and give me another load. With the— bigger… version. If that doesn’t get me to the ER. I just want to try it for a minute or two even if it’s too big. You probably know if I’m built to do that better than me though.“

By the knowing look he gives you, Baekhyun indeed does.

„That works, I already calculated that. You’re stretched enough. If we don’t do it for long and I’m not moving, you’ll just feel really stuffed and full.“

„Exactly what I’m wanting,“ you blurt, and your eyes grow all the more impatient.

„Okay. I’ll be holding your legs up a little more for that if it’s alright. Just keep your ankle very relaxed.“

„M-hm!“

By doing that, you realize he changes how you angle yourself at him. You mentally prepare yourself, and already feel him expand inside. That pushes even more of the scented fluid out of your pussy, spreading over his cock. The smell of vanilla and grapefruit, whatever it is, becomes even stronger. Everything pools and drips from his expanding shaft in sticky threads that you want all over you, and in his mouth, his face, everywhere. Your poor pussy is nothing but a lake at this point.

„I’m gonna burst with this inside of me.“

And he really is monstrously big in his full form.

„Almost there. Does it feel okay?“

It grows and grows. Becomes veinier and all slick, bathed in scent and your own pussy creaming it up.

„Shit… that thing is like a spear! Fuck! Keep it, keep it up—!“

He keeps on growing. The stretch of your walls is driving you wild. You can’t even put a proper grip on him with your muscles at this point. All there is — a bulging sensation of your pussy getting filled out all around. It does make you feel tensed up. Even if the surface of his cock feels only a bit elastic, the diameter is too wide at this point.

„It’s a bit uncomfortable if you focus too much there with your muscles,“ Baekhyun says. „Look at my hands.“

Baekhyun circles into your clit with his index. It mixes relief into the stretch. And more pulsing excitement. Just a light caress wouldn’t do it at this point. He knows he has to rub a little faster.

„You’re all… stuck there,“ is all you can moan. He’s grown sufficiently to let your sensitive entrance feel like it’s going to burn up in flames. In its normal state, there’s no way he would get past it in his large size. You don’t even know just how far up he is inside you. If he’d thrust now, your guts would be as ruined as your panties. The flaring sensation of him spreading all inside you is all that you can think of. You’re starting to think you must’ve developed a cock addiction because of those pheromones, the thought of him not being inside of you all day like this sounds terrible.

Now that he’s entirely erect and stiffened, you can tell his dick has exactly the inner metallic strength you thought it had. He’s pretty heavy inside you. You get a buzzing in your head and accidentally shift your hips a little. The feeling that follows makes you gasp.

„That, that’s hitting something. Oh my god. It’s pressing me. Oh my god. What is that, Baekhyun!“

„Your cervix.“

„That’s deep in. Holy shit.“

„It’s really big and puffy. My sensors are liking it.“

So that’s where he is, then. Buried right there. Hitting the spot.

“Hold it there, Baekhyun. It feels so unusual! Please press it a little more.“

Baekhyun shifts his hips himself, causing you to feel the same bump again. It makes your body jerk and takes you by surprise once more.

„I think it likes kissing my tip the way you do with your lips.“

Either you’re imagining things, or Baekhyun actually sounds a bit accomplished.

„What! Does it react?“

„It’s getting increased blood flow and expands around me. If you want, I can rest a little deeper with my tip at the hole in the middle.“

The idea is so filthy knowing he could shoot you up with more pre-cum any second. All of it would spritz deep inside of you, almost the deepest way possible. You picture Baekhyun mixing up a huge load for you, only to pump it all the way through his immense length.

„Please, please do that, please. Push against it.“

„I’ll have to be really careful.“

„Come on, Baekhyun,“ you firmly grip at his hips to pull them down. „Beat my pussy up. It’s deep enough. Give me the whole length.“

That this means going balls deep entirely is making your legs do funny things.

Baekhyun, squeezing in the last inch, finally makes you feel like he’s splitting you apart. From your legs up to your neck, you can feel the strain. Your pussy can barely take it. It doesn’t know whether to fall apart or to tense up. That Baekhyun’s cock tip ever so slowly pushes, then penetrates into your cervix and stays there, neither opening it fully nor just resting loosely against it, sends you all sorts of arousing signals.

„You’re stretching so well. See how amazing your labia look now.“

The sensation of Baekhyun has distracted you entirely from just about anything else. A quick glance tells you it does just look like that. Your muscles are too pushed apart to grasp his dick, but your pussy lips do that job for you. They’re finally getting their right stretch. Plush, and wet, and wide apart, they hug Baekhyun as if trying to pull him in. It’s as if they’re sucking and gargling his cock and spilling saliva everywhere. They’ve grown amazingly plump and red. Two cock-hungry, endlessly greedy girls just for Baekhyun.

„How do you feel? Describe it to me.“

„I’m feeling so, I can’t, fucking crazy! It’s prodding a spot that’s really far up. Oh God. It’s so big. You… fuck… oh— You—!“

„You can call me any dirty names you want,“ Baekhyun lowers his voice. It sounds so naughty and provoking when he does that. „You know that I’m down to be a huge whore.“

The plain sneering delight in his eyes is so intense that your pussy starts to pulsate. That lewd and yearning Baekhyun hiding underneath the cute smexy smile has ambushed you again.

„Give me that slutty look on your face and stroke my belly. Show it. Moan. If you wanna be a whore, do it properly.“

„It’s really bulging out here, Y/N…“

He whimpers, traces his palm across your abdomen, quick to find the spot. It does form a bit of a bump. Even from your position, it’s quite visible.

„Yeah… Look, you did this.“

„Your pussy is so perfect on the inside, too. Really pink and juicy.“

That his tip is currently making cockwarming love to your cervix you can very well feel. The two of them are already headed to be on a familiar basis with each other. You want Baekhyun to smash and jizz it every fucking night.

„If you have some more cum, now’s the moment, Baek. Pound it.“

„One second,“ he jerks at the base, briefly having his right hand leave your waist. You grip at the nape of his neck to pull his face down. You lock lips, and they are so mesmerizing while Baekhyun makes sure to find a nice angle.

With a loud moan into his mouth, you can feel him stuffing your pussy with a shot of rich fluid. The accompanying thrust is strong, steep, and throbbing. It makes you want to mount Baekhyun and fiercely bounce on his dick until cumming all over it, way until collapsing. His cock reaches far enough through the opening of your cervix to fill your womb with its creamy load. The liquid drips against the upper area until it spreads out and leaks down into your vagina. A lake of his semen now pools back and forth inside your spongy uterus, Baekhyun’s cock stirring it with its light pulses and movements. He’s not thrusting, but making sure to keep his dick swaying and prodding just enough to ease your tensions.

„Another load,“ you part from his lips, craving. „Really make it to the brim. Move it once. Push it in… So good, Baekhyun…“

„Okay,“ he hums, and kisses you again, this time making gentle contact with your lips. „I’ll make it really warm and thick.“

„God, yes…“

„Here, are you ready?“

„Fill me.“

Baekhyun’s fat cock delivers a juicy stab, fucking the meaty, veiny width under the tip right into your cervix. Hard and quick, making your toes shiver. The blow pounds and heavily stretches it apart under your deep guttural moans. He’s really deepening his cock almost to the max, and you can feel how stiff and girthy he’s made it become. 

The first pre-cum load allows for a perfect glide already. The plunge is so good. Your cervix now faithfully grips at his shaft, fully lubricated and anticipating, swelling up, greedily throbbing around him so fast. It pulls his cock in the way you want to deepthroat Baekhyun. You repeat and repeat his name.

Finally, a second spurt comes to seep right into you like a waterfall. Baekhyun floods your pussy entirely without holding back. A gushing injection of white streaks and pearls comes to permeate you so deliciously that your heart skips a beat. The spill is much less fluid this time, but runny just like freshly whipped coconut cream, fanning out into little melted clouds. He’s shot what you imagine as more than the amount of a small glass of water into you. You are creamed up to the last millimeter. If he was fertile, you’d be pregnant with a cute little Baek baby in two seconds, and give birth only three minutes later.

„I love it!“

Your pussy walls loosen around him. Even if it means saying goodbye to your filling, now you wanna see how his semen looks like.

„Rest your hand there while you’re pulling out,“ you guide your had toward your abdomen. „You’re gonna tell me the difference.“

With Baekhyun slowly drawing out his cock and letting the vacuum suck the fluid downward, you become giddy. Your cervix refuses to close and instead stays pulsing open, letting all that he filled you with drip out. It’s a pal size puddle. Baekhyun’s dick looks so gigantic and coated now that he pulled out. You can’t believe all of that was inside of you.

„I really hate to leave you feeling empty,“ he says, and massages your belly very attentively.

„I wish your cum could stay inside all day. It’s so warm. I really miss your cock, too. Shit, Baekhyun.“

After some waiting time, his last bits of semen makes its way down. Your pussy gapes enough to let it squeeze out. It’s so thick and white, completely opaque. How good it smells you only register when you’re already hanging at Baekhyun’s lips again. The scent drives you to kiss him again and again, having your hands all over his body, praising him with your moans. He yields into your wild hug and the making out continues until your creampie no longer flows out. Half of your pussy is full of sticky semen still, warming you from the inside. Between your heavy breaths, you realize that Baekhyun’s laser gaze on you have even more craving than before.

„And this is not even the main event,“ he rasps into your ear. „We’re still headed towards the most important thing.“

You shake. His dark eyes set on you like a panther’s. He’s readier than ever. This goddamn robot stamina. Now he wants to fuck you up entirely.

„Make me cum… really hard, Baekhyun.“

„I’ll have you moaning and arching. Tell me what to do.“

„Remember I talked about some Special Request mixed with oral?“

„Very clearly,“ he nods, helping you get up from your back. „I got you.“

„Leave it at big as it is now. Not the full growth but almost there. Really give me a lot of cum, okay. Empty yourself into my throat. You can also fuck my mouth but keep it shallow. You can hold my head later on.“

„All as you like. Here,“ Baekhyun helps you guide the shaft between your expectant lips.

You suck at the tip, but your mouth doesn’t get very far down. The difference to Baekhyun’s smaller, adapted version is extreme to see, to touch, and taste. While you gobble the far end, a generous spurt of cum shoots into your throat already. It pools on your tongue before you swallow three times.

It tastes mild and sweet.

Maybe you’ve been eating too much cotton candy as of recently, but it does bear some resemblance to it. You shake the girth from one side of your mouth to the other, signalling Baekhyun to fill you again. More cum begins to appear, then burst at the roof of your mouth, and you don’t manage to hold in all of it. Thank God the towel is thick enough.

All the jizz expands on your tongue and you swallow faster, with Baekhyun leaking more of his cock milk. You decide to have some fun thrusting your head forward and have the whole thing explode against his loins and your lower face. With Baekhyun’s dick plunging into you deeper, the remaining cum flows past your lips and lands between either of your legs on the towel.

No wonder his balls do their pulsating thing. He has to keep up mixing and pumping everything out. His cock is now so perfectly slippery that you can glide your tongue around it in fast circles. The faster you go, the more his foreskin retracts, revealing the beautiful sturdy glans that provides you with another milky shot against the back of your throat. The mixture is smooth, allowing for an easy big swallow. For some reason, it’s almost like almond milk conditioner diluted with a bit of water.

Baekhyun adding little thrusts to each leaking makes you moan like a pervert. You suck and lick up every incoming bit of fluid properly until gulping it down. At this point, your entire stomach is a sea of white cream. Your mouth feels like it’s drowning in baby lotion, but without the obnoxious taste. Even now, you’re still not tired of bopping your head and blowing bubbles with the amounts of his sperm that gather around the middle of his cock. The more you get into the rhythm of moving your head, the more heated and loud you get.

Puckering your lips adds the right pressure, and you keep your jaw as wide a Baekhyun showed you earlier. The slicking, slurping and glucking noise of the suction is music to your ears. Him spilling out more liquid helps you glaze his length with warm icing now, and your speed is surprisingly high in doing so. You end up sinking your fingertips into Baekhyun’s shapely ass cheeks and hold onto his body like that while blowing him. You feel they are toned and soft at the same time, even more heavenly when you use your entire palms to hold them.

„Great, you’re doing great,“ Baekhyun wipes off a blotch of cum from his belly and lathers his cock up with it, careful not to disturb your mouth at work. „Do whatever comes to your mind.“

As if that praise was not enough, another rewarding fountain fizzes into your mouth. The vacuum from your tight lips resounds almost like a kissing noise. With another moan upcoming, you blurt out the majority of Baekhyun’s load. This time, his legs are the victim of your slobber, getting their first contact with his cum in dripping white stripes. It looks so hot. Looking at his ruined thighs with your saliva and milk on them makes your pussy throb several times.

In the meantime, your lips are left perfectly coated and big, clinging to the veiny surface slightly below Baekhyun’s tip. Especially your lower lip has gotten much plumper and picks up every relief on his dick. You love the sound of him thrusting in his shaft that is met with a little lake of cum at the farther end of your tongue. The more elegantly he helps you plunge in the tip, the better it stirs the fluid and leaves a nice caress at the top of your mouth and the inner corners of your lips. The taste is breathtaking. After swallowing for the seventh time now, you pop his dick from your mouth and distribute the remaining cum on your cheeks and temples by sliding his length all over your skin.

„That feels so good,“ you pat his cock all over your cheekbones, your forehead and the bridge of your nose. You even glide the tip of his cock against your browbone, tracing its lining and have a few little droplets of Baekhyun’s delicious milk dance stuck in your lashes. The fluid leaves your face feel cooled and soft. The matte silicone surface of his length is perfect enough to slowly glide under the guidance of your hand, massaging your face gently and slick.

And then, you get an idea.

„Hold your cock up for me. Maybe make it curve up a little,“ you instruct, take a few breaths to cool down. When Baekhyun is ready, you slide your right hand between your legs and head your mouth for his balls at the same time.

They really are like scoops of ice cream. Enough milk has distributed over them to make your attention of kisses, licks, feathery light bites and sucking very easy. Everything glides, and you love how they vibrate ever so slightly.

„Tell me I will feel this against my clit as often as possible, Baekhyun.“

„Every day if you want. I can make them buzz a little more than that as well. That goes for my cock, too.“

„What— Really! Please do it! And please, more cum…“

And they do. It must be the weirdest thing your lips and the tip of your nose have felt, ever. A million dancing ants start their party on your skin. Alternating between left and right, you give your mouth a proper ice cream feeding. Baekhyun’s cock vibrates along and produces another waterfall of sperm.

While you let the buzzing ripen up your lips with even more swelling, drops upon drops of cum add from above where Baekhyun holds his cock in an almost vertical position. Since its curve bends toward his stomach, that’s where more of his cum lands. You love to observe the milk trickle over the little veins of his loins, his lightly toned abs, and the perfect V shape of his pelvis. With every drop, you rub your clit to new heights and feel it become spongy. You’re so sensitive and wet that it’s harder to get your finger to the right spot, so you end up using three fingers at once.

Baekhyun glazing himself with all that luscious cum makes you want to lick him up whole. On the other hand, his oozing cock spills so much fluid that you don’t want any of it go to waste.

With the flicks of your index finger speeding up between your legs, you ask Baekhyun to stuff and thrust his cock back onto your tongue and provide you with a final wave of cum for good. He dusts over your lashes to remove the spray they took before, then diligently brings his palms around the back of your head. Baekhyun is so utterly careful and sensual in his expression that you have to groan and feel your pussy twitch. His pretty fingers fit so perfectly around the area under your high ponytail. Having his wrists ghost over your temples makes you want to come on the spot. Now that your head is softly locked safe, Baekhyun asks if he can start, earning the most eager nod.

„I won’t make you gag, I promise,“ he gives his fingers a final arrangement, laying flat on your hair.

You feel like you’re about to implode and already drive your head forward. Aided by the slip of your mouth, he pulls you onto his cock, driving in a bit more length. About a third of his cock gets in, and you feel only a slight bit of tension. Your lips close around him, but remain flexible, still. Your hand between your legs rubs faster. And faster. Your clit is begging for a second rush. By the time, your jaw has become perfectly loose and receptive, ready to take a pounding. You moan in frustration from all the suspense, and finally he begins fucking his monster dick into your skull. 

The girth stretches your lips and leaves your mouth completely stunned. Baekhyun properly angles himself into your head and showers you with complimenting little wows, then continues the speed and screwing until half of his dick pumps into your mouth. It’s pushing in and stimulates your lips with every thrust. The buzz is amazing. 

Your throat is perfectly accepting of Baekhyun’s tip. The vibrating stimulation at your tonsils sends excitement through your entire body. His cock is amazingly big, hot, and jittery. When he drills it into you with a little ‚your mouth… so soft… like cotton candy…’ under his breath, you can’t take it anymore.

When your rubs escalate and your pussy begins to contract, he blows up your mouth with an avalanche of extra sticky and flavorful cream. Unlike when he was pumping out the cum against his belly, his cock now powerfully empties in one go and overwhelms your tongue with taste. 

The portion is so huge and almost foamy. Now you’re filled double. Your leaking pussy, stuffed with his bubbling semen, and your mouth, rich with the potent vanilla taste. Your clit thumps hard with a series of twitches, about ten, eleven, twelve times, with another strong rub from your middle finger pushing it over the edge.

The load of cum bursting into your mouth is so large that your cheeks slowly bulge out a bit. Baekhyun holds his cock in place to help you keep it centered. A look at his hands alone is enough to fasten your rubs and make you feel your climax peak. Your eyes get large from the extremity of pleasure surging from your clit, having your body rock, making you yelp out and spill Baekhyun’s semen back over the pulsing curve of his dick. It’s so messy, but you don’t care.

He takes the opportunity to thrust back into your mouth in sync with the twitches of your pussy, blasting your way too impatient esophagus with more sputtering threads of hot milk. Your clit throbs even harder when you hear the wet noises your throat makes. Every thrust has you blowing out cum with stifled, slobbery gargling. Baekhyun penetrates you so well and won’t waste a milliliter of cum. It’s so thick and so good, and distributes so nicely every time he fucks it into your throat a little further. The vibration of his cock makes your tongue so swollen against the underside of his shaft and even more sensitive to how his cum feels.

Liquid satin, gliding so well down into your stomach that you wish he could penetrate, too. You slurp and gobble the last shots of cum, and enjoy Baekhyun’s thrusts feeding you his fully sperm-decorated cock. With your saliva flowing into the mix, the load gets perfectly blended and has you produce the nastiest sounds around the meaty base of his dick. You want to lap it all up, slather it all over you, bathe in it. He drenches your mouth completely. You swallow and swallow until he knows you’re feeling full and stops the flow.

You still try to suck the leftover liquid out of him until only drops remain on your tongue. A final swallow, and you lock eyes with Baekhyun who’s gently smiling and cupping your head.

„B—woah,“ you gush out, slipping your lips off his dick. You look down on your body and Baekhyun’s, finding your skins coated all sticky as if a pot of joghurt spilled all over your chests and legs.

The special request indeed leaves nothing left to be desired.

„Really incredible,“ Baekhyun says.

„Warm…,“ you lick your lips, and shake, move your tongue about to loosen it up. „And so much— Fuck!“

„Not a drop left. I’ll probably need half an hour to gather an amount like that again.“

„I want this all the time. This, this is so much fun.“

„Yes. You were really enjoying yourself. You look really beautiful.“

Probably really messy and funny with your drying lips and tousled ponytail. You have to chuckle.

„Brace yourself, Baekhyun. I hope you have enough hair ties prepared.“

Oh, it’s gonna be a ride.

After you settle your breath, Baekhyun goes about cleaning your face and neck, and bits of your chest. He has to get a third towel from the bathroom to get the job done, including rubbing himself down. As ruined as he looks, AndroTech has to send him into the fucking robo deep cleaning room or something if you keep this up.

Eventually, Baekhyun helps you up the same way he put you down on the sheets two hours ago. You coo to him, and he carries you to the bedroom softly humming. You feel a strange serenity. Protection. Baekhyun looks so sweet and calm. A warm feeling spreads across your abdomen, and you listen to your blood rush in your ears. He really got you going,. He offers a glass of water that you accept and nip at while he sorts his and your clothes, dumping all the towels into the laundry basket and switching off the living room lights afterwards.

Alongside carrying a paddle hair brush, he returns with your favorite strawberry bubblegum chapstick. He must have picked it up next to the washing machine in the bathroom. You keep a little shell-shaped metal bowl next to the basin where all your cosmetics are scattered in. How he knows that it’s your go-to lip product will remain another mystery, although you are sure he has a page-long analysis on it. 

After asking for your permission, Baekhyun applies it for you and makes sure to kiss you not once, but twice. He loosens the tie out of your hair and goes about brushing it, smoothing it. Lying down in your bed for the afterglow with the fairy lights on gets even better when Baekhyun offers his chest to lean against for dozing off.

Chapter 10: Pulling Out The Carrots

You wake up to the smell of waffles and cocoa coming from the kitchen. You sit up in bed. Feeling more gloriously fucked out than fucked up, actually. The floor, even if it’s still the exact same as before, feels different when you set your either foot on the ground. It’s not only your heel feeling at least a little better. It’s also the fact that it’s the ground of an apartment with two people in it.

Bothering to put on socks, you find that your closet has a new stack of clothes where Baekhyun normally sorts in his white vest. So Mr. Kim sent a new batch of attire for him as promised in the email you received last night. Seven sets of midnight blue, carnelian, and more white cuts of similar fabrics and varying shapes. Your closet looks strangely complemented with his clothes in it. Not to mention much tidier since he folded each and every piece.

Before you waddle to the bathroom, you check your phone and see an avalanche of shy emojis from Hwasa in your notifications. You did manage to send a little comment on the sofa before you went to bed.

„Guess whose car is fixed,“ Baekhyun sets a plate on the table. The whole kitchen sizzles and looks as if a restaurant chef just let a huge cloud of steam loose from his souffle in the oven. There’s juice, there’s blueberries, there’s syrup on the table. His smile is even brighter than it was yesterday.

„You gem!“

Falling around his neck makes Baekhyun laugh. You cling in the hug and pepper his forehead with kisses until the waffle machine bleeps.

„Dig in, princess,“ he stacks up three waffles on the plate, golden brown and drizzled with syrup.

„Sit down with me when the last one is done,“ you fork the top waffle, separating it into five hearts each. Crispy outside, vanilla-colored and juicy on the inside. Back in the day when he was still active, Gordon Ramsey couldn’t have done it any better. Baekhyun nods, now busy with a large blue bowl. He’s kept his smile and hums a little. The kitchen radio is playing in the background.

„And something else,“ he swipes the wooden spoon through the bowl. You realize what’s inside. He steps toward the table to masterfully place a generous amount of whipped cream on your stack of waffles.

„What was it?“

„I talked to Mister Lee.“

„You what?!“

With a clattering noise, your fork drops right back onto the plate. If the sweet scent in the kitchen didn’t fully wake you, then this definitely did.

„I first checked the databank as I said,“ Baekhyun puts down the bowl on the table and takes a seat opposite to you. „There was no record of him interacting with androids anywhere. He didn’t own one, nor did anyone else in his social environment or the area around here. Except you of course.“

„A—alright, and?“

Judging by Baekhyun’s picture-perfect appearance that doesn’t seem to sport a single scratch, at least Mr. Lee didn’t get out his golfing equipment then.

„I went over and met him on the porch while he was having his coffee. I introduced myself and asked about his garden.“

„His garden?“

„Mister Lee has taken up quite a bit of work with his vegetables,“ Baekhyun pours some orange juice from a jug into the chunky little glass in front of your plate. „He was busy with carrots yesterday.“

„What— What does that have to do with…?“

„He was huffing out loud because he couldn’t pull out a particularly large one.“

„That’s what I heard when we arrived?“

„Precisely you did.“ As if your jaw couldn’t hang any lower, now you’re also flooded with embarrassment.

„He was squatting right behind the large bush that blocks the view,“ Baekhyun continues. He said he didn’t even hear us arrive because he had headphones on.“

„Jesus, really?“

„I was already wondering why I didn’t notice any danger when we arrived at the house. You only heard the noise and made a conclusion. But actually, Mister Lee was in his own world.“

„Oh…“

„I helped him plug out the remaining carrots just half an hour ago. It was really easy. He gave me a few potatoes from his garden, too. I’ll make you fries for lunch today.“

„You really hear what you want to hear,“ you say to yourself out loud and start chugging the orange juice. Maybe moving into the underground tunnel system you’re planning to build for yourself to disappear from the face of this earth is still a very good idea.

„And don’t worry. I didn’t tell Mister Lee about your reaction. He doesn’t know about the misunderstanding. I just said I heard him shout in his garden and he readily explained what he was working on.“

„That was very sensible, Baekhyun. So I was accusing him for nothing, then.“

You bury your face in your palms. Goddammit.

„Mister Lee is as harmless and unbiased against bots as this waffle,“ Baekhyun points squarely at your plate.

„And I thought this would end up in a fistfight.“

„The funny thing is. Mister Lee said he used to be a boxer back in the 1980s and had muscles like I do. He was really amused how fast I was pulling out the carrots.“

„B-Boxer? Was he trying to intimidate you?“

Maybe you need to muster your rusty karate skills again. Who knows what Mister Lee was really up to. You didn’t know much about his family, but you’re sure a more detailed Internet search would reveal that his grandfather was indeed called Bruce.

„No worries,“ Baekhyun picks up the jar again, re-filling your juice. „He called me a dapper young gentleman and offered we could come over to have carrot cake at 4 PM. He says the house is a little empty since his grandkids moved to San Francisco. Mrs Lee is also looking forward to congratulate us. If you’re free after work?“

„They… invited us?!“

„In the most friendly way possible. And their potatoes are really huge. That’s going to be a lot of fries.“

Looks like Baekhyun has found your neighbors to be much more trustable than your paranoid robot gf brain. Before you can really deliberate whether to say yes or no, your intuition does the work for you and makes your strained jaw blab the words.

„I’m free, sure I—“

The doorbell rings twice, ripping you right out of your thought flow.

Baekhyun swiftly gets up. You already expect Hyuna or Chen with the latest gossip in town about your universally heard late-night moaning noises.

Setting up what feels like another Guinness world record, you stress-eat two waffles at once before readying yourself to get up, too. Another loss of face right around the corner but at least you have something in your stomach and Baekhyun’s beautifully cooked meal isn’t getting cold which would be the ultimate heresy.

To your relief, however, Baekhyun returns with—

A post box.

„Delivery for my princess,“ he chirps from the kitchen entrance. „Wow, it’s really heavy, too!“

„God, I’m a mess,“ you shake your head at yourself.

„Pardon?“

„Nothing, I just said it’s actually for the prince, you know.“

Your castle might be an outdated yellow house, but it has a creaking palace door and splendid clothing parlor. And pancakes for dinner. And the prince has a really big dick, so.

„For— me?“

„Yes, yes. If Mr. Kim can send you something nice, I can do that, too.“

There goes another portion of your salary but fuck it. You act as if you were puffing yourself up a little, with flared nostrils and a dandy eyebrow wiggle. A laughing Baekhyun uses his mere nails to loosen the tape from the packaging in one smooth go, and also doesn’t seem to extend any efforts prying it open. You’ve never seen anyone open a box this elegantly.

„That’s the kind of rivalry between creators I didn’t expect,“ he says. „I hope you’ll like the new clothes, by the way.“

You’re starting to get the hang of this whole bots-and-boredom thing. Keeping Baekhyun on his toes is paradoxically both less and more of a big deal than you thought but you’re working it out.

A note of calling your declared friendly rival Mr. Kim to ask him for a few more pointers is what you decidedly jot down on your own mental to-do list. He explicitly said that Baekhyun can very well explain himself, but getting some more insider knowledge to ambush Baekhyun with surprises doesn’t hurt. And whatever this kinetic learning thing is, you certainly need some more ideas from the source, too.

„You can model them after we return from eating cake.“

„Nothing I’ll love more,“ Baekhyun removes some of the crumpled up paper cushioning inside. Since the box is fairly big, it takes a bit until the content becomes apparent to him. Once he realizes what it is, Baekhyun’s eyes light up and he starts jumping up and down through the kitchen.

„It’s a pink clouds machine!“

boyfriend bot on ao3

NOTE: oof, that’s a big ole fic :D i hope you liked it. talk to me about baek 😭❤️ 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2020. all rights reserved. reposts prohibited. portrayals are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

[pen-paper-and-ink]

Champagne Problems

Chapter Two

Masterlist

Aelin Galathynius was tired, but that was what you got when you decided to wake up at six in the morning. Aelin doesn’t remember how Rowan convinced her that 6:30 was a perfectly acceptable time to run in the morning, or how six a.m. really wasn’t thatearly, but she despised him for it.  She knew that was a lie, that she adored Rowan, but every time her alarm goes off, she can’t help but silently curse her best friend.  

Aelin was not a morning person.  One of the only ways she could actually meet Rowan on time most mornings was by sleeping in her leggings, or her gym clothes, that way most mornings all she would have to do was push her feet in her sneakers and pull her golden blonde hair into a pony and be out the door.  Coffee also may or may not help her get her day started.  

She had a Keurig in her apartment, and the sugariest, most creamy coffee creamer in the fridge to help her wake up in the morning.  So that how she usually started her mornings: shoes, hair, and coffee.

The caffine and the sugar in her drink wakes her up as she sips her drink on the way to meet Rowan in front of the campus library, managing to recycle the empty cup just before she sees Rowan.  

They have been going on these morning runs for nearly two years now, since they decided to put their differences beside and become friends. They hated each other when they first met, both dealing with their own inner demons and not realizing that the person they each hated reminded themselves a little too much of what they saw when they looked in the mirror. When they finally called a truce, they decided the both needed a better way to deal with their loss and the stress of the world, hence the near daily jogs.

Even though she hated the early mornings, Aelin would be the first to admit that the runs helped.  She was no longer drinking herself half to death and getting into fist fights, and instead was feeling the steady pound of her feet on the pavement and the beat of her heart as she pushed her body to its limit.  Aelin had always been active in her childhood, avidly practicing karate and mixed martial arts until she was sixteen, she didn’t realize how much she craved the endorphins of exercise and a runner’s high until she was nineteen and started to run with Rowan.

Early on into her friendship with Rowan, Aelin decided becoming friends was one of the best things she had ever done.  Together they had decided to walk the path back to the light, and it had changed Aelin’s life for the better.  Nearing the end of her Junior year at the University of Terrasen, Aelin no longer felt like that angry and bitter freshmen she once was.

Aelin noticed Rowan seemed tired as she approached him, though she supposed that wasn’t odd.  She knew from Sam that he and the guys went out get drinks last night, he usually just wasn’t quite so hung over.  As one of the “healthy lifestyle choices”, as Rowan liked to put it, that they would partake in together was to no longer overindulge in alcohol, and drink their problems away.  Though perhaps this time it was in celebration, as he was approaching the end of his senior year, and she knew how beyond excited he was about starting his master’s program coming that fall.

Though they no longer overindulged, Aelin missed drinking with Rowan.  Rowan got goofy when he drank and damn her if it wasn’t one of the cutest things she had ever seen.  Especially how he giggled when he was tipsy, and she was telling some stupid joke.  She missed him, their lives had been so hectic lately between finishing up the semester and splitting their time among their various friends.

Rowan sighed as they began their run.  Aelin glanced over at Rowan. Who was scowling his way through his morning workout, that at least was semi-normal.  Rowan was not the mostly openly happy man on the best of days, scowling while running through his hangover seemed just like Rowan. They made their way through campus and ran past some of the historic buildings of downtown Orynth.  Aelin always loved this part of the city, she liked to imagine the lives of the long-ago royals as she ran past the palace and what used to be the mansions and hot spots of the wealthy.  

The buildings still belonged to the wealthy, but now they mostly made-up high-end apartment buildings and trendy boutiques and restaurants  near the U of T campus. Aelin should know, her apartment was located inside one of the former mansions, now a trendy apartment complex, near the palace and just a fifteen-minute walk to the campus library.

Aelin and Rowan’s pace began to slow down as they reached the end of their five-mile run, they had almost made it back to the library, the halfway point between both of their apartments.  When they finally reached their stopping point, Aelin flashed Rowan a smile over her shoulder which her warily returned.

“Well, you certainly worked your alcohol consumption off now.” Aelin joked towards Rowan, who just scowled in return.  “You can now go out again tonight, and not feel guilty about all the drinks you downed yesterday.”

“I didn’t drink that much,” Rowan protested.

“Really? That’s not what Sam told me,” Aelin shot back snarkily.  Rowan just sighed, and Aelin flashed him a triumphant grin. “Will I see you at the Cadre tonight?” she asked, naming their local haunt for cheap drinks near campus.

Rowan just solemnly nodded and said “See you tonight, Ace.” As he trudged his way back to his own apartment.

Aelin smiled to herself as she strolled at a leisurely pace as she made her way back to her own apartment.  Aelin loved her apartment.  She loved the white marble counter tops in her kitchen, her sofa in her living room, perfect for lounging the day away, it was her safe haven.  Aelin purchased the place right after her freshmen year of College ended, she would soon be moving out of her dorm and she needed a place to call home, since she could not stand to be alone in the house where she and her parents once lived.

One of the newer fixtures in Aelin apartment was her boyfriend, Sam Cortland.  She had just recently given him a key, so he saw fit to come to her apartment whenever he pleased.

“I see you let yourself in.” Aelin called as she walked through the door.

Sam looked up and grinned at her from his seat at the kitchen island, “Just thought I’d check on my beautiful girlfriend, and see what she was up to today.”

“Besides finishing my English lit paper and getting out of these disgustingly sweaty clothes?” Aelin asked.

“Yes, besides that.” Sam laughed over his cup of coffee.

“I told Rowan I’d meet him at the Cadre tonight.” Aelin said, as she watched Sam’s face become closed off, as he stared deeply into his mug.

“Rowan didn’t say anything about last night, did he?” Sam asked cautiously.

Aelin snorted, “No. It seems you guys had fun last night, judging by Rowan’s hang over though,” Aelin laughed. “I’m surprised you’re up and functioning this morning,” Aelin said as she went over to poke her boyfriend in the stomach.

“Well, I clearly didn’t have as good of a night as Rowan did,” Sam laughed, “but I was thinking we could have a good night soon.” Aelin perked up. “How about Mistward’s next Friday night? We can invite the whole gang. It can be our celebration for graduating and finishing our sophomore year.”

“Mistwards, huh?” Aelin was skeptical, Mistward’s was one of the nicest restaurants in all of Orynth, and one of the most expensive. “Do you really think our friends would be up for that? I don’t think Lorcan can dress nicely enough to get into a place like Mistward’s.”

At the end of every school year, Aelin and all her friends would gather, usually at the Cadre, and have a huge blow out celebration for finishing up the school year.  This year was different since both Rowan and Sam were graduating, this celebration had to be better, and to reflect all of them, and MIstward’s definitely did not reflect Rowan.

“I think I can convince them,” Sam said with a sly grin.

“I don’t Know…”

“Come on, Aelin,” He was still smiling, “I got it covered.” He set his mug of coffee on the counter and got up to kiss her. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close.  She relaxed into his warmth.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to touch me; I’m covered in sweat.” Aelin mumbled into his chest.

Sam laughed heartily, “Maybe my intentions weren’t so pure, we’re both fairly sweaty now. How about I run us a shower.”

Aelin laughed and began to walk into her bathroom to run a shower for the both of them.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 134

Since I am queueing this chapter the same that I queued the last one, I just want to say:

If you have found my story in the last week, and liked it, thank you. It makes me smile when that happens.

If you shared my story with others, and they liked it, or even found a little bit of themselves in it, I’m very glad. Thank you for sharing something with your friends that they enjoyed.

As always, thank you to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog for being my ports in all storms and the family everyone deserves to have.

Annnd the podcast. Don’t miss the podcast!  I don’t profit from it in any way, shape, or form, but the idea of a version of this story that is more accessible for people who would struggle to read it is something that should always be supported! 

A week later, I was wincing and out of breath when I reached my office for the day.  Tyche had enthusiastically agreed with Arthur’s suggestion, and after some tests from Maverick showed that I could apparently kick hard enough to break a grown man’s pelvis - although not without also breaking my foot - I had been expected to be in the gym for nearly two hours every day.  My legs hurt and my feet looked worse than the time I tried to learn ballet en pointe.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was also apparently very slow in reacting with my legs as a result of years learning to fight with, you know, my hands. Like a normal person.  This meant I was also wearing five pound weights on each ankle, all day, including when sparring.

So far, the only thing I had noticed was a demonstrably shorter patience and a reduction in how much I bounced my legs. Or sat comfortably.

I was so absorbed in my bad mood and how badly my legs hurt that I had already gotten coffee, greeted my mentees, and sat at my desk before I noticed something out of place.  As usual, Parvati and Hannah were across from each other at the table they typically sat at, but Parvati was standing and demonstrating something.

While using the table emitter, which they only ever used for my benefit.

Tilting my head in what probably looked like what Sparkle’s expression when she was denied a treat, I watched as Parvati picked up a vaguely pen-shaped object - it really looked more like a sonic screwdriver than a writing implement - and started making neon pink lines of various widths, swirls to test the slant it would make, and using it at various speeds before closely considering the color of each line.

“What in the world is that?”

“Paint testers,” Hannah explained. “Charly dropped them off with Vati last night, along with the programming to simulate how they work so we could test them with an emitter and not a wall.”

“Paint?”

“For the Festival. Charly designed these for us to use instead of trying to get permission to use actual spray paint.  The fumes of spray paint are apparently very caustic to Noah.”

I shuddered. “Yeah, no spray paint, clearly.”

Apparently satisfied with the pink, Parvati keyed her datapad to clear the emitter and picked up a different pen.  This one was a beautiful lapis blue. “She’s quite brilliant,” she murmured as she tested the pen. “The pens work like an airbrush, but she took some inspiration from something Arthur Farro gifted her several years ago and ensured the pigment will only last three Ark-days.  It also only appears under certain lighting.”

“And it’s non-toxic, of course,” Hannah added with a smile. “Because, you know… Charly.”

I hesitated before asking the next question. “How non-toxic are we talking?”

To my utter horror, rather than respond, Parvati opened her mouth and used a different button on the pen to paint her entire tongue blue. “They’re edible.” She closed her mouth with a smile before her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! That one is pomegranate!”

Hannah furiously made notations on her datapad before looking back up at me. “Vati already tested them on canvas in her quarters, but we also wanted to make sure the simulation software works so that we don’t waste pigment trying to figure out the design elements.”

“We’re also rather curious about what flavor each one is,” Parvati admitted before swapping to a toxic-looking green. “This one is peach, I do remember that. The pink was popcorn.”

I shook my head. “Do you want people licking the walls? Because this is how you get people to lick the walls.” I walked over as I was speaking and idly picked up one that was labelled as Titan Black.

Hannah snatched it away quickly. “That one is scotch bonnet flavor. I found that out the hard way.”

“I get making them non-toxic, but why are they flavored?” Hannah arched an eyebrow at me and I held my hands up defensively. “Other than the obvious application. Why design flavored paint pens for the Food Festival murals?”

Parvati blanked the emitter again and swapped pens. “That is going to be part of the design and experience,” she started to explain. “We originally wanted them non-toxic in case of the non-zero event that Else tries to eat the paint off the walls.” I nodded since ‘non-zero’ was putting it lightly. “Then I had the idea to include the possibility of Else eating the mural into its design.  Rather than worry that Else will eat it, I am planning on it: I am going to create a piece that changes as the various colors are devoured.”

“Annnnnd how do you plan on controlling what order Else eats everything in?”

She waved to the row of pens on the table. “These are each in a flavor that we know Else likes. I am currently testing in my quarters what the order of preference is.”

As my mind started to catch up, I started nodding. “Your test swatches last night.”

“Precisely. I have them laying out in a grid, easily accessible to Else, and they are being monitored. We will take the recording and determine what the order of preference is from there.”

I shook my head with a huge grin. “That’s one hell of a performance art piece.”

Hannah straightened her posture in an imitation of Pravati’s normal ramrod-straight demeanor. ���There is nothing more fitting for a celebration of how humanity persists in surviving, despite how transient and brief life can be, along with a clear showing of how we intend to welcome and embrace the differences between ourselves and those most different from us - even those who once nearly destroyed us but wished to make peace.”

“That’s frighteningly good,” Parvati praised nonchalantly as she squirted a fluorescent yellow into her mouth. “It makes no sense for that one to taste of something spicy.”

I took the pen and forced myself to spray it in my mouth. I perked up when it was actually very familiar and delicious. “It’s gochujang…” They both looked at me skeptically. “Apparently Else likes spicy food?”

“I’m starting to think this is how she flavors her popcorn,” Hannah murmured.

My head shook on that one. “No, all her popcorn is decidedly popcorn-flavored. The coloring is added while it is being made, along with the flavoring. Same thing with her ice-cream, and with the candy bars.”

“I agree,” Parvati added. “This pigment is quite wet, it would never work on something like popcorn.” Pausing in her testing, she turned to me. “She has made popcorn in your quarters before, did you notice how she colored it?”

I thought back to the movie night, fighting through how nostalgic and relaxing it made me feel. “It has to be a high-saturation powder.  Other than the actual oil she used to pop it, everything she put in was powdered.”

“But it was toffee popcorn,” Parvati argued. “I remember because it was such a lovely shade of purple.”

Hannah and I both glanced at each other before turning concerned looks to Parvati. I was the one who eventually spoke. “You make toffee popcorn by adding sugar and salt while it’s being popped, Vati. Both are powders.”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” she demanded with a scowl before picking up a pen.

I looked back at Hannah, who was as baffled as I was. “Vati? Do you cook?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. Xiomara is a brilliant cook, why would I give that up?”

“But you know how, right?” I prodded. “We always have cooking classes going on here.”

She decidedly ignored us.  I gaped at Hannah, who eventually crowed with laughter. “Oh my god! We found something Vati doesn’t know how to do!”

“Xio does make a wicked roti with veg curry,” I tried to defend her. If she was deflecting, Parvati clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

“And I can cook,” Parvati argued. “I can roast meat, and forage edible plants, and clean them both.”

“Works for me!” I chirped, trying to defuse the situation before Parvati actually got upset. “If you can cook enough to feed yourself in an apocalypse, I consider that a solid fundamental basis.”

Hannah finally took the hint. “Well, if you ever want to learn more, gods know you have plenty of friends who can teach you. Hell, Sophia taught Maverick to cook, and when they first met he had a very iffy relationship with the concept of food in general.”

That got me a look. “He had been through a lot, okay? You spend thirty years with everyone blaming your sensory issues with food on just ‘being picky’,” I used air quotes for emphasis, “and yeah, you start living on the three foods you like and a lot of vitamins and protein drinks.”

Parvati stopped in her tracks and slowly turned her head toward me before taking a seat. “How did someone who doesn’t even eat to live end up with two people who live to eat?”

I felt my face heat up, but managed to limit my reaction to a shrug. “If he said he didn’t like something, I took that at face value and didn’t make him eat it. If he never had it, I thought really hard about how similar it was to things he did or didn’t like, and offered it to him - or didn’t -  based on that.  I never took it as a challenge I needed to make him overcome, just as a challenge I needed to rise to.”

She considered this for a moment, glancing to Hannah who nodded in confirmation, before speaking. “This is why you cook.” It wasn’t a question. Parvati stated it as a fact.

And I confirmed it was, indeed, a fact. “One of the few things Huynh and I agree on is hospitality. I don’t want anyone to come to my table and feel they can’t eat.  It’s how I was raised.  There will be food they like, and plenty of it.”

I heard a popping noise from Hannah’s direction, and turned only to realize that it was her neck popping when she turned from Parvati to me.  Eyes wide, she was barely audible when she whispered, “That’s why the Food Festival is so important to you…”

It took several attempts and a lot of nodding to swallow the lump in my throat. “We were all scared, and all strangers in this insane reality that we weren’t even sure was actually real.  I thought - knew - it would ground us, and even start uniting us. If we could all see that arroz con pollo, paella, chicken biriyani, chicken etouffee weren’t all that different? What’s more familiar than chicken and rice, or fried puffs of dough, or pancakes?” I shook my head. “I remember my first day on the Ark. I was in a mess hall, and even with my sister and cat, I knew I was luckier than most but so lost.  I just - “ I gulped and fought back tears. “I wanted shepherd’s pie so bad it hurt my soul. And I tried and tried to get it from the food consoles, and it was never the right thing. I must’ve tried eight times. It was so frustrating!” I didn’t catch myself in time to keep from slamming my fist a couple times on the table. “I felt even more lost.  Someone came up to me and asked what I was doing.” 

I took a deep breath to banish the concept of Arantxa from my head. “And dragged me to Conor because she realized that what I was saying and what she was hearing weren’t the same thing.  That’s how I actually met him. And, bless his face, he knew exactly what I was asking for and got it for me if I promised to help him get French toast, of all things.”  The memory made me smile. “Believe it or not, that moment mattered more to me than even waking up on the Ark when I should have been dead. Just… the idea that this person who knew nothing about me except what I wanted for dinner, was able to fix that lost feeling.  I want everyone to have that.”

Parvati was staring at me like she was watching the most romantic story in the world, but at least Hannah nodded seriously. “Steak and ale pie. I always want that when I’m stressed.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly. And multiply that by every type of steak and ale pie anyone can possibly make on the Ark? I know I don’t have to convince you two to keep the Festival anymore, but yeah.  That’s why it matters so much to me.”

I turned to Parvati, who was drumming her fingers and looking down somewhat sheepishly. “Most cultures have a kind of curry, so I never really thought about it,” she admitted. “But it makes sense, from that perspective. I never thought about it.”

Reaching out to pat her hand, I gave her a serious look. “That doesn’t mean you have to learn to cook anything more than what you already know,” I assured her. “It’s my motivation. No one else’s. If you ever want to learn to make something you don’t know how to, I’ll be happy to teach you. If you never want to learn how to make anything you don’t know how to, I will be happy to cook for you. Just… don’t ask me to bake? That’s a Tyche thing.”

She groaned. “Those mini black forest donuts….”

“Exactly. Don’t ask me to make them, I’ll ruin them ten times out of ten,” I laughed.

“She should make donuts for the Festival,” Hannah suggested wistfully. “Do you think we could talk her into it?”

I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not asking her to do it, so have fun.”

“But you’re her sister.”

“How the hell do you think I know not to ask?” I gave them both a flat stare that set them giggling. “Donuts for the family? Fine. Donuts for the whole entire Ark? Not touching it.”

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[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 21.5 OR Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is a mastery. It’s an ability that needs to be practiced and refined. It requires discipline and patience, especially when things go wrong. It’s problem solving and creative with never one right answer. It’s practically magic in a silver bowl, a whisk, and an oven. And Jungkook is the best wizard in this kitchen.   He preheats the oven to three hundred and seventy five degrees fahrenheit. Then he cuts parchment paper to line a baking sheet and moves to brush the ramekins with melted butter. Jungkook adds the tablespoon of white sugar and rotates the ramekins until the surfaces are coated in it.   Five ounces of seventy percent dark chocolate is put into a bowl with two ounces of semisweet chocolate and he melts it over a saucepan with hot water on low heat. Afterwards, he adds the egg yolks until the mixture stiffens. Jungkook wipes his sweat before he mixes in the tablespoon of flour and butter, reducing the heat to low and adding in some cold milk.   It’s thickened after three minutes and he adds salt, a pinch of cayenne pepper as a secret ingredient, and mixes.   The bowl is left over hot water while he whips egg whites with a pinch of cream of tartar, adding sugar after a bit to create glossy, soft peaks.   Jungkook transfers the egg whites into the soufflé base, folding it in gently one third at a time and then he divides the mixture to bake for a full fifteen minutes.   What he’s left with at the end is the best chocolate soufflé on the planet.   “What do you think?”   “It’s really good.” Aeri politely smiles and you roll your eyes.   “You don’t need to feed his ego. He’s been raving about it for days now.”   “And you’ve eaten at least ten of them.” Jungkook grins and you mutter incoherently, unable to really protest against the claim that’s all too true.   The soufflé is puffed and crusty on top, but still gooey and jiggly in the center. It’s risen to its maximum height without collapsing whatsoever, uniform all around. And the texture is cloud-like, soft with the chocolate taste melting on the palate.   It took two weeks to perfect — but the outcome made the effort all worth it.   “I call it the ultimate soufflé.”   Your brows raise. “The ultimate? Not Jungkook’s ultimate?”   “Nope. The ultimate.” He smirks and leans into you. “Want another one?”   You hope he doesn’t know that it takes a lot of strength for you to reject.   Jungkook’s good at baking. That much is clear. You’re not sure if he’s as good as you are of course, but anything that has to do with chocolate practically has his name on it. His chocolate soufflé is no exception. It’s fucking delicious. Enough that even Yoongi asks for seconds and Taehyung almost starts to cry.   But you don’t want to admit just how good it is since his ego’s been boundless these past few days.   “How does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?” he pipes up suddenly when you haven’t even said a single word for the past five minutes. And when you tell Jungkook he’s not a chocolatier yet, he laughs and tells you he will be soon while condescendingly patting your head like you’re his pet.   As if that wasn’t enough, he interrupts snuggling time by rolling over with a pompous look on his face. “I’m just so happy right now.”   “Why?”   You’re expecting a corny answer along the lines of — ‘because you’re here’. But instead Jungkook sighs dreamily and says, “I really nailed that soufflé, didn’t I?”   It’s annoying. You’re just trying to live your life peacefully but in every shape, way, or form, no matter the context, he just has to bring up that goddamn soufflé like it’s his child he’s so proud of. It’s not like you aren’t happy for your boyfriend — frankly, you wouldn’t mind if he bragged or boasted about it to others. But he’s been constantly chirping about it in your ear. And any complaints from you would just warrant his grins and questions of if you’re jealous of his skills.   “I don’t know what to add to my portfolio,” you mention passingly one afternoon after much contemplation.   Your boyfriend hums. “You need something with chocolate, right?”   “Yeah.”   “Well, you could make my soufflé. I’m sure it would help with your grade a lot, but—,” Jungkook draws out the syllable with another sly smirk, “my recipe’s a secret. Sorry, babe. Wish I could help.”   In spite of your inner exhaustion and vexation, for the sake of being a good girlfriend, you simply nod and let him have his moment. Even if Jeon Jungkook was being unbearably arrogant and reminding you of why you hated him about a year ago, he was clearly happy with the recipe he worked so hard on and you didn’t want to step on that.    He deserves some personal limelight, so you let him have it.   But luckily, you don’t have to bear the weight of his smug ass by yourself for long.   “Yuna!” Your arm waves over your head. The high schooler smiles, rolling her luggage behind her and meeting with you halfway. Immediately, you engulf her in your arms even when she grumbles and resists. “How was the trip here? You’re not hungry, are you?”   “God, you’re like my mom,” she huffs. “It was fine. Hey, Jungkook.” Yuna shifts and smiles warmly at your boyfriend who nods, greeting her as well.   “Hey.”   “So this is the school you go to?”   You grin. “Sure is!”   The last time you were with Yuna, she expressed interest in the professional baking and pastry arts program. You didn’t expect that she would actually come visit during the week-long break for a tour but it was a surprise you welcomed. You hope you can take her interest and curiosity and inspire her.    “Namjoon and Sejeong packed some cookies for you. They told me to say...thanks….for showing me around when you’re busy and stuff.”   “It’s not a problem. I’m happy to.” You smile. “Tell them I said thanks too.”   “Taehyung’s joining us,” Jungkook reads off his phone and then pockets it. “Apparently, he’s bored.”   You shrug. “Fine by me.”    “Who’s Taehyung?” Yuna asks.   “Just a friend of ours,” you say to ease her obvious worries of the stranger.   The three of you wait a few minutes, getting caught up with one another as Yuna talks about what her last classes were about. But soon after, the tall brunette is strolling over with his hands buried in his white hoodie pockets. His hair is disheveled like he just rolled out of bed and you don’t think that’s too far from the truth.    “Jimin ditched me to go on some date with the chick from his classic desserts class,” he whines when he gets in ear-shot distance. “I thought I was going to die of boredom.”   “Tough life,” you scoff and don’t notice Yuna who’s frozen next to you. Her eyes are wide on the stranger, gaze sweeping up and down at him.    She swallows hard before stepping forward and making herself known. “H-Hi. My name is Kim Yuna.”   “Oh yeah.” Taehyung grins easily. “They told me about you.”   “Did they? I’m glad.” She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. You exchange expressions with Jungkook. This was an awfully familiar situation. “I’m Namjoon’s niece, their boss during their internship.”   “I’m Kim Taehyung.”   They shake hands and Yuna goes in for the kill without hesitation— “Does your girlfriend know you’re here?”   Taehyung is flustered, taken aback by the blunt question. “I….don’t have a girlfriend.”   “Great.” Yuna answers swiftly with a big smile.   You have to admit, she’s bold. The girl has some guts even you don’t have. And you’ve never witnessed Taehyung this perplexed either. It’s hard to catch someone as spontaneous as him off guard.   “How old are you?” Taehyung frowns, an apprehensive expression etched on his features like you’re telling him to touch a gooey substance in the corner of some dirty bathroom stall.   “I turned eighteen in May,” she declares bluntly.   But Taehyung looks unconvinced despite his slow nod. “That’s barely legal,” he mutters and only you and Jungkook catch it.   It’s hard to hold back laughter, but you try your best and interrupt— “Should we start the tour?”   You show her around campus, walking through the corridors, directing her where the lecture halls are and what classes are where. You tell her what it was like for first years and you show her the dormitories, the lockers, the dining hall, and the kitchen area.   All in the meanwhile, Taehyung sticks to Jungkook’s side like gum. It’s obvious that he’s intimidated by the petite high schooler and it’s an amusing sight.    But Yuna is a go-getter and somehow manages to get Taehyung beside her to answer her numerous questions. You and Jungkook fall back, no longer showing her the way and you’re reduced to watching their backsides.   “You know what I want to eat right now?” Jungkook turns to you, mumbling, “My soufflé.”   Here we go again….    You internally sigh, but maintain a stiff smile. “Uh-huh.”   “I should make it for Yuna. She’d be blown away.”   “What?” The younger girl twirls around at the mention of her name.   Jungkook grins at her. “You like soufflé? I make the best chocolate soufflé here.”   Yuna blinks, too innocent to know better. “Really?”   “Your soufflé isn’t even that good.” It’s a lie. “I bet I could do it better.” That’s an even bigger lie, but you can’t stop it once it’s spewed out of your mouth.   It goes silent.   Jungkook stops walking. Taehyung turns around.   “You think you can make a better chocolate soufflé than me?” Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow, taking personal offence.   You shrug — it’s too late to back down now. “Why not? Can’t be that hard.”   Jungkook scoffs with a stupidly smug expression, calling your bluff. “You can barely temper chocolate.”   “You underestimate me, Jeon,” you bite back and his lips curl.   “Fine. Let’s see then.”   //   It was a mistake — something said on impulse, after days of irritation bubbling in the pit of your stomach. It came tumbling out before you could know better, before you could think twice about the consequences, but now you’re standing in the kitchen at an impromptu competition.   “Welcome to the annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!”   “This isn’t annual,” you mutter at Taehyung’s unnecessary extravagance.   He corrects himself— “Welcome to the first annual Jeon and L/N competition, everyone!”   The word spread like wildfire, but luckily kept only in the group chat. The last thing you needed were acquaintances, classmates, and teachers coming to watch. The guys were noisy enough. And it’s a testament proven with Yoongi coming over, Hoseok sprinting to get here, and Jimin calling to tell everyone to wait for his date to be over. All of it was enough pressure you could handle at the moment.    But even Aeri had caught wind of what was going on and decided to come by.    It’s clear that there’s still tension between her and Hoseok. You don’t miss the strained expressions they exchange with one another before taking seats on the opposite ends, but you’re glad that they can at least be in the same room as one another. It’s an improvement. A sign of moving on.   Yet you don’t dwell on them — not when you have bigger fish to fry at the moment.   “Over here we have Y/N who believes she can make a better chocolate soufflé than Jungkook, an aspiring chocolatier who literally took weeks and weeks to perfect this recipe of his to make it the ultimate soufflé—”   “Alright, that’s enough,” you cut off Taehyung, the self-designated commentator, before you start actually sweating.   Jungkook is competitive. Everyone and their mother knows that. And that fact alone makes you nervous. He might just throw you entirely under the bus and burn your relationship to the ground for the sake of winning. You’re worried — but you don’t show it. You can’t.   If he knows you’re fearful, he’ll have the upper hand. So you feign indifference.   After all, if there was one similarity between you and Jungkook, it was that you weren’t going to back down without a fight either. You were born a winner and it was going to stay that way.   “And to make it more fair and maximize the amount of desserts we get to eat, over here we have Jeon Jungkook who will be making éclair. A pastry made with choux dough filled with cream and topped with chocolate icing. It is a specialty perfected by Y/N, an aspiring pâtisserie chef who dreams of running her own wedding cake catering services someday.”    “Two very different dishes that the opposing member has a speciality in.” Taehyung continues to narrate and nods his head, inadvertently making Yuna giggle, “Who can make it better? You’ll be the judge of that.”   It’s ridiculous, but you’re not going to cave in or surrender. Not when Jungkook’s ego was insurmountable and you’d never hear the end of it if you gave up.   An hour and a half is put on the clock. Your counters parallel to one another while your friends are gathered at the other, ready to watch, eat their snacks and hang around. You momentarily wonder why you never have the privilege of relaxing like them.   But you don’t think about it for too long. The moment Taehyung starts the time, you begin.   You preheat the oven and begin buttering the ramekins.    “How do you feel, Y/N?” Suddenly a whisk is thrusted in your face, almost puncturing your cheek. It’s a makeshift microphone that you push aside.   “Fine.”   “What are you doing now?”   “What does it look like?” You push Taehyung aside, grabbing sugar to coat the dish.   “Well alright then.” He laughs and slinks over to Jungkook’s side who’s humming underneath his breath. He’s much too casual as he finishes greasing a cookie sheet and moves to combine butter and water in a saucepan. “How about you, Jungkook?”   “Never been better.” The side of his lip is curled. Jungkook’s black long sleeve is pushed up to his elbows to reveal his forearms, and one peek at him is enough to feel your blood boil. It’s obvious that he doesn’t see you as a threat whatsoever.   “You think you’re going to win?”   “Unfortunately, I do.” Jungkook plays along with Taehyung’s antics, head so far up in the clouds.   “Why unfortunately?”   “Well, it’s not everyday I want to crush my girlfriend, but sometimes I just have to.” Jungkook twists to you. “Sorry, babe.”   You ignore him, too busy glancing at the label and dumping the chocolate into a small bowl with butter. In the meanwhile, Yoongi chews on his chips and scrutinizes. “Are you sure that’s the right kind?”   “Fuck off, Yoongi.”   It’s not like you haven’t done this before — you’re just not sure if yours can ever beat Jungkook’s.   You whisk in the six egg yolks and add a pinch of sea salt until the melted mixture thickens. At the same time, Jungkook is singing under his breath, forming his pastry dough and piping it out onto his baking sheet.   You don’t know how he works so fast, but you concentrate harder, ignoring Jimin asking Yuna if she likes the place so far, disregarding Yoongi’s snarky comments and Hoseok’s music that he turns on as background noise.   Once you place egg whites and half a teaspoon of cream of tartar in the electric mixer to beat, you’re finally able to take a moment of relief. Jungkook is also at his mixer beating his heavy cream for the filing. “Nervous, babe?”   You scoff at him. “As if.”   “Alright then.” Jungkook smirks, almost as if he finds your snobbery endearing.   You hate how he can see right through you, but you still maintain the facade anyhow. At this moment, he was your rival first and your boyfriend second.   “It smells so good.” Yuna inhales.   Aeri smiles at her. “That would be Jungkook's choux pastry in the oven.”   “Who do you think is going to win?” Taehyung suddenly asks the high schooler, thrusting the whisk in front of her.   She smiles gingerly. “I don’t know. Who do you think will win?”   Taehyung hums and ignores the protest of his friend when he says— “I’ll put my money on Y/N.”   “Want to bet on it then?” Yuna asks, lashes batting back and forth. “Loser takes the other person to dinner.”   “What about you, Chim?” Taehyung immediately diverts his vision, pretending that he doesn’t hear her deal. He even disregards Aeri and Hoseok’s stunned expressions of Yuna’s forwardness. “Who do you think?”   You add the sugar carefully, one tablespoon at a time until the egg whites hold glossy, stiff peaks. Then you’re gently folding the egg whites into your soufflé base until it’s a light and fluffy mixture ready to be put into the ramekins. But you know it’s too basic.    It would never beat Jungkook’s.   So in the midst of your inner hysteria, you sprinkle in a teaspoon of cinnamon and nutmeg. Yoongi, the only person who’s actually watching, quirks his brow but doesn’t say anything.   The soufflés are popped into the oven and by then, Jungkook is still working.    He’s letting his pastries cool on a rack, his filling already in a piping bag, and he’s busy making the icing.   “How do you feel now, Y/N?”   “The same.” You shrug. “I know I’m going to win, so…”   Your boyfriend lifts his chin, a small smirk gracing his lips. “We’ll see about that.”   “You aren’t intimidated whatsoever?” Taehyung asks. “I mean Jungkook’s soufflé was fucking deli—cious. It was like gooey on the inside and so soft, but really crispy on the outside and very, very chocolatey. It felt like an explosion of flavour—”   “Alright.” You shut him up and move over to steal Yoongi’s bag of chips, much to his dismay.   In the few minutes that you finally get to sit down and rest, you observe Jungkook.   In spite of his arrogance, he’s working quite hard. You’re impressed he agreed to make éclairs in just an hour and a half since it usually takes two. But Jungkook works quickly, efficiently, and your eyes can’t help lingering on his exposed forearms, the furrow of his brows, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his pink lips.   God. As competitive as you are, a part of you doesn’t even care who wins — you already feel like a winner.   The beeping of your oven breaks you out of your daydream.   “You should wipe off your saliva,” Yoongi mutters out of the corner of his mouth, knowing full well that you were ogling Jungkook in silence. You glare at the dark-haired man, a silent threat not to say anything lest it becomes clear you have other priorities other than winning.   You take your soufflés out of the oven, breathing a sigh of relief when you see them.   They all rose. A few with them have cracks and they’re not uniform whatsoever, but it’s more than you hoped for.   The aroma of chocolate fills the room, making Yuna antsy in her seat.   You begin dusting the top with powdered sugar.   “Two minutes left, chefs,” Hoseok warns with a grin, peeking over at Taehyung’s timer.   Jungkook is long finished piping his éclairs, already drizzled the chocolate icing over top of it and allowing them to set in the fridge. You step back from your counter as well. “I’m done.”   “Same here.”   “Finally!” Yuna is cheering. “Can we taste them now?”   You’re the first to go since the soufflés are still piping hot. It’s six servings with Yuna receiving the first one since she’s the guest of honour. Then the rest are passed to Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Aeri. They dig in without hesitation and you watch with your breath hitched.   “It’s really good,” Hoseok says, chewing in his cheek.   “I like it a lot.” Aeri smiles. “You did a good job, Y/N.”   “Thanks.” Even if you don’t win, you feel great at your attempt.   Yuna hisses when it burns her tongue and she hums after letting it cool. There doesn’t seem to be any complaints from anyone.   “The top can be crustier. It’s baked well through though,” Yoongi notes pompously after sniffing his spoonful for the past minute to take in the scent. “Not half bad.”   “But is it better than Jungkook’s?” Taehyung asks.   It’s silent. No one can give a blatant answer. Jungkook is appalled that they even need to think about it.   “Give me that.” He grabs Jimin’s and takes a spoonful. Jungkook bites, chews, and his brows furrow. “What...is that? There's something in there that’s weird. Like the aftertaste is off.”   In hindsight, cinnamon and nutmeg probably wasn’t the best idea. But you don’t say anything and you plop your hand on Yoongi’s shoulder as an implicit warning not to speak about it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”   It’s your turn to take a taste and the moment it hits your tongue, you know the outcome.   It’s miles and miles away from Jungkook’s standards. Your soufflé is good, but not crying-worthy. It doesn’t bring tears to your eyes and make you remember your mother’s home cooking, how you gathered around the table for dessert during warm holidays.   The situation only gets shittier when you take a taste of Jungkook’s éclair. The custard is tangy and smooth, pastry crispy and buttery, chocolate icing sweet at all the right places. And all you can think is — what. the. fuck.    This guy had to have a cheat code for life. There’s no way he can be so good at everything he does. It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. It’s unfair.   “What do you think?” Jungkook stares at you in particular, trying to gauge your reaction.   You swallow hard, managing a half-hearted shrug. “It’s decent.”   It’s clear with his smile he can see you’re trying to hide your true feelings. “Want me to save you seconds?”   “I’m fine.” You wave your hand at him, despite your heart saying otherwise. It causes Jungkook to chuckle, but he doesn’t push to spare your pride.   It’s hard to tell if his éclair is better than yours — but the mere fact that Jungkook hadn’t even had time to perfect his recipe or practice yet made it this good has your knees weak. You’re glad you don’t have him as your competition on a daily basis anymore.   “This is pretty good,” Yuna admits, licking off her fingers.   Yoongi seems to be enjoying it as well, eating quietly as he studies it. Hoseok is making noises at the back of his throat and Taehyung nods in approval. “Have you only made this once before?” Jimin asks.   “Once or twice. Can’t remember.” Jungkook grins and that’s even more impressive.   You’re conflicted of being proud of having such a talented boyfriend and being spiteful of him as a rival.   Eventually, Taehyung dismisses the two of you for the rest of them to ‘deliberate’ and judge.    You step out into the hallway and Jungkook throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close.   “Don’t be too sad when you lose, babe. I’ll comfort you with my golden trophy.”   “There is no trophy.”   “Hmmm, how about a kiss then?” His nose bumps against you, smiling wide.   You feign a pout. “I’ll think about it.”   “Alright, love birds.” Taehyung pokes his head out of the door in less than two minutes. “We’ve made our decision.”   You gather back together again. All of them are pretending to be very experienced pâtisserie chefs with decades of experience. It’s both an amusing and lame sight — but you don’t comment in case they decide to deduct your points and Jimin grins, reading off the paper he has in front of him.   “Y/N, your chocolate soufflé was very moist and delectable. It had the perfect amount of sweetness. We found your techniques to be very competent and proficient. The presentation was great. The texture was very soft and the flavour was very deep. The aftertaste, on the other hand, was unique and different. It caused many to continue tasting to pinpoint what it was. You obviously accomplished what you set out to do and you made a very tasty dessert.” Jimin clears his throat. “And Jungkook, your éclair was alright.”   “Y/N wins,” Yuna announces with giddy laughter, arms in the air.   “Wait.” Jungkook frowns. “What?”   “Me?” You point to yourself, starting to laugh. “I won!”   “It was a consensus,” Taehyung spits in the midst of giggles.   “This is obviously rigged!” Jungkook protests loudly.   “Don’t be a sore loser.” Hoseok shouts and the rest ignore his outcry.   Yoongi nods in approval. “Congratulations, Y/N.”   You put your hand over your heart. “Thank you.”   You didn’t plan this — maybe they were sick of Jungkook’s ego too or maybe they just thought it would be hilarious to see his reaction, but whatever the case may be, you’re glad that they have your back.   You lean over to your boyfriend, giving a brief peck on his pouting lips.   “This is so rigged,” he mutters, less upset after your kiss.   You smile at him and quirk your head to the side. “Life’s rigged, sweetheart. But tell me, how does it feel to be in a relationship with the best chocolatier on Earth?”   Jungkook scoffs, a grin spreads into his face.   //   Informal baking competitions are all fun and games, but it’s not so much at the end when there’s a mountain of dishes to wash in the sink and a whole kitchen to clean. The others have long left after satisfying their sweet tooths, so you and Jungkook have been hard at work yet again.   But in the midst of wiping down the counters, your eyes stray to Jungkook’s pastries.   He’s stepped out for a moment, so you take the opportunity swiftly by its throat.   You lurch across the floor and grab an éclair to eat.    But as you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while relishing in the deliciousness, you don’t notice the man creeping up on you.   “Having those seconds, huh?”   You’re scared shitless, jolting, and you whirl around to see Jungkook with his shit eating grin that just screams ‘I knew it’. You’ve been caught in the act. There’s no denying it now.   All you can do is swallow your mouthful.   “So you liked it that much? You should’ve just admitted it from the start, Y/N. You know I can read you like an open book—”   You grab Jungkook by the back of his neck and pull him in for a smothering kiss, just to shut him up. It’s a slow kiss, one where he cleans the cream off your lips and tastes the sugar on your tongue.   It’s ambiguous who the real winner is. When you pull apart, you know you both feel like it.   “Happy?”   Jungkook laughs, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “Very.”

[withastolenlantern]

What do you think it was like?” Rafael asked as he hacked at the tough vegetation with his hoe, pulling the dense vines into a pile in the pathway. The soil was nitrogen poor, even when heavily fertilized, and the local flora had a fibrous root that was always threatening to choke out their transplanted species. The ground cover was too thick for the harvesters to handle, so the crops were still pulled by hand at the end of the wet season.

“Why do you always ask that?” I said, stooping down to the ground and dusting the dirt from the now exposed potatoes, gently brushing them clear like an archaeologist might some ancient, precious treasure. I pulled the tubers from the ground and put them into the cart.

“You don’t wonder?” He leaned on the handle of the hoe, brushing the sweat from his dark brow.

“I try not to.”

“Come on, Shan. If I have to have one more meeting about soil nutritiation, I’m going to kill myself. And you’re down there all the time…”

“We’re not having this conversation again.” I hadn’t come out to the fields looking for a fight, but I was always prepared for one. “Stop changing the subject.”

He frowned. “Please don’t start.”

“I’m just saying. The season’s almost over, and we’re not getting any younger.”

He put down the hoe and knelt down next to me, lifting another potato and cradling it. He looked at me plaintively. “I just… are you sure this is what you want? To spend your life toiling in the dirt? I mean, your father…”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “My father is a drunk, and he has nothing to do with this.”

“He didn’t used to be. He might snap out of it. Some of them do,” he said. “I’m just worried you’ll get bored of me, of this. It’s not a glamorous life.”

“No, but it would be our life, Rafe,” I pleaded.

“One more season. The bureau is due to review the allotments soon, and I almost have enough saved up for a down-payment on my own forty.” He kissed me gently on the forehead, then stood, and stared up toward the sky and sighed. “You honestly don’t wonder? What it was like, knowing what was happening out there?”

I stood too, matching his gaze. I put my arm around his wrist and held it gently to my chest. “Come with me. I have to check on him, and then maybe you’ll see why I’d much prefer to farm potatoes with you.”

It had been one-hundred fifty-nine years since we’d last heard from anyone outside the system. The Network had gone down July 17th, 2938, or at least that’s what the history books said. And that is only if you went by the original Earth calendar, which no one did anymore. With a twenty-eight hour day and a rotation period of six-hundred seventeen days, matching time here on New Caledonia to that on Earth was pointless. With The Network, information would take an interminable time to transit the two-hundred eighty-four light year and four relay distance between us; even then, relativity was unclear on whether there was any such thing as simultaneous events at these stellar distances anyway. For me it was irrelevant: the Earth might as well not exist, may not exist, and Sol was just a very dim star you could barely make out in the southern sky.

For us, it had been a normal Sunday, Wet Season 12, CSY 134. New Caledonia is an eccentric planet with a single landmass in its northern hemisphere surrounded by a large planetary ocean. Because of its near forty-five degree axial tilt relative to the ecliptic, the year is divided into two seasons of nearly equal length. During the Wet Season, the more direct sunlight heats the seas, driving strong currents that bring strong storms to the western coast. The moist air blows in and dumps copious rain across the western plains before climbing into the central mountain range that separates the continent, the only remnant of the clash between the two gigantic tectonic plates that formed the land we now call home. This quirk of a jetstream leaves the eastern plains beyond the mountains in a giant rain shadow, barren and dry. For this reason, all the major settlements are here in the west, and in the Dry Season, the ocean gyres cease and we hunker down for a long, cold, arid winter.

The rains were strong that Wet Season, or so the stories go. At first they though the heavy cloud cover and unstable air was interfering with communication to the satellite arrays. Minkowski Transmission provides a supraliminal link through the interstellar void, but it was still subject to the space-time warps of a heavy gravity well; we are forced to rely on more pedestrian broadcast methods to communicate with the Network Relays out in longer orbits free from gravitational interference. But they checked the dishes and the transmission center and everything was fine. Then they checked again. Then they waited until the Dry Season, and checked again. And then they waited.

We walked up the path to the main road where I’d parked my truck, and Rafe loaded the cart, only half-full of potatoes, into the rear cargo bed. “How is he doing?” he asked, hopping into the cab and pulling on his safety belt.

I pushed the ignition switch and the engine purred to life. The battery chimed a plea that it needed to be recharged soon, and I felt that deep in my soul in a way the inanimate vehicle could never understand. “He has good days and bad.”

“How much longer?”

“Too long.” I put the truck into gear and programmed the destination into the navigational system. It lurched forward, the tracks catching slightly in the soft, damp clay of the plain. “Honestly I stopped counting a long time ago.”

We made it maybe half a mile before the rain started again, at first light pricks ricocheting off the windscreen of the truck, but quickly growing to fat blobs that exploded with a violent thud. I opened the valve to the distillation unit on the roof and a slow drip of cleansed water trickled into my canteen. After a few seconds I closed the valve and took a sip; the water was cool and clear. I offered some to Rafe, but he demurred with a slight wave. “Do you think he’ll go back to his career, after?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. At the beginning they said they’d welcome him back, but I think we all expect that was just a pleasantry. I’m… I’m not sure if he could handle it, now.”

We rode in silence for a few more minutes before he spoke again. “I’m not sure he’ll approve,” he said with subtle defeat. “Especially if he goes back to work.”

“He doesn’t get a say,” I replied. I reached across the seats and took his hand in mine. I smiled as brightly as I could in reassurance. “I’ve made my choice. This is what I want, for myself. For us. He can object if he wants, but what’s the worst that happens? It’s not like we can be further apart, not after what’s happened.”

It was several days into the Dry Season before the panic really set in. The original settlers had always known it was a one-way trip out here- four hundred years was a long time in stasis, and there was never a guarantee the planet would provide a sufficient fuel source to power the generation ship’s massive thrust engines back up. So like seeds in the wind humanity scattered itself across the stars, secure in the knowledge that the Network Relays would prevent them from ever being truly alone. Mankind might diverge physically and spacially; over time genetics and environmental factors would certainly breed out several new homo subspecies. But with the Network we could at least stay connected enough to share our stories, our art, our discoveries, and what else has humanity ever been but that?

The governor made an address and appealed for calm. New Caledonia had been self-sustaining since the beginning, she reminded everyone. They’d be fine. It was always a known possibility that this might happen, and the best everyone could do was to go on with their lives. The Network would come back, or it wouldn’t; they’d keep trying to re-establish communication.

The rumors started swirling immediately. The panel show ratings skyrocketed. We watched some of the footage in school, when I was younger; one talking head insisted it could be an alien threat, splitting us up before some pending invasion. There’s never been any sign of extraterrestrial intelligence even exists, let alone in competition for colonization, the other shouted. A third argued it was a sign from God, that humanity had outreached its grasp.

A popular conspiracy stream posited that maybe it was just New Caledonia. What if everyone else’s Network connection still works, and they’re cutting us out? The opposition party saw an opportunity and ran with it- what if the government shut down the link? On purpose! What if this was all a ploy to consolidate power and rule the planet as an oligarchy? The riots lasted three days, with violence and looting in the city streets before cooler heads prevailed. The government stayed in tact, and the opposition leaders were purged for fomenting insurrection. And thus was born the New Caledonian hermit kingdom.

“I don’t think I’d even want it to come back, at this point,” I groused. “Not after all of this.”

“How can you say that?” Rafe asked, incredulous. “You’re not the least bit curious?”

I thought for a moment. “Curious, yeah, I guess. But I don’t know that it would change all that much. It’s been so long. What if it comes back and it’s just… too different?”

“Yeah but think of what we might be missing out on,” he argued. “It might have helped with The Rot. It might have…”

“Don’t,” I warned, feeling the threat of tears welling my eyes.

For one-hundred fifty-nine orbits we’d tended our flocks and tilled our soils alone. Without a broader knowledge base, technological progress slowed. In CSY 204 a plague came, some meta-organic compound released from a pit mine dug too deep. The Rot claimed thirteen percent of the population before we could quarantine it out. When I was nine they finally found a way to inoculate against it. I remembered wincing at the shot as my father looked on, relief evident in his face that I’d be spared the fate that had claimed so many lives, including my mothers.

Maybe Rafe was right; maybe someone out beyond the stars might have helped us avoid that tragedy. And maybe someone here might know or do something that could save lives elsewhere. But in the years since the Network went down, we’d persevered, raised generations on our own. And inevitably just like Rafael they would stare up at the night sky with the same wonder as those before. And then they’d also ask about the abandoned broadcast center in the empty valley beyond the outskirts of the main settlement, grown over with the local moss-analogue from years of disuse.

The truck crested a small hill, the tracks struggling for purchase in the mud as they pulled the vehicle over the incline, and we looked down into the valley where that broadcast center sat. Every two years an adult was selected by random lot to man the station, in the increasingly unlikely event communication with the Network was re-established. The government called it “The Receiver” in an effort to present it as some important position, but everyone knew it was a joke. It came with no real benefits, just a small stipend and the obligation of a community. We all prayed at the Harvest Festival that our number would not be drawn from the bowl.

My father was a proud man, an engineer who helped manage the settlement’s geothermal power station. His luck had run out eight-hundred sixty-three days ago. He swore up and down that the lottery was rigged; that the government thought him being a technical expert instead of a field-hand, that the fact that his wife was gone and his children all grown, made him expendable. He might have been right, but that didn’t absolve him the responsibility. So he’d resigned himself, and us with him, to the doldrums of minding an interface that may never come back online.

He read a book a day, or at least he claimed, and while the library did have a fair amount of humanity’s literary efforts prior to the cutoff, their plots and concerns were divorced from life here on the frontier. He took up drinking, inevitably, as did everyone else assigned to the posting. What they don’t tell you when your name is pulled from the bowl is that the sacrifice is not yours alone- the burden is your family’s to bear. My brother’s and I took turns minding him, bringing him food and checking on his mental well-being but they all had families of their own now, and I was desperate to start mine too. We were all ready to move on, and I hoped by bringing Rafael with me he could see that I was serious about starting our life together.

We pulled up outside the comms center and dismounted from the truck.

“Hang on a second,” Rafe said. “I want to talk to him.”

I looked at him quizzically.

“Just… let me do this, okay?”

I smiled and kissed his cheek gently. He went inside while I unloaded a tote filled with fresh fruits and a sandwich I’d laced with some amphetamines to help keep him lucid. The interior of the building was dark; the lights hard burned out several months ago and no one from the government could be bothered to maintain the place on any expedited time scale. I brushed some of the local vines from the threshold of the entryway as I entered. “Dad? It’s Shan. I brought some food.”

As I passed from the mottled grey sunlight outside to the dark interior I could make out blurry figures backlit by the eerie glow of his reading lamp.. They were both standing, which was odd. Dad was usually in the chair when I visited, most of the time asleep.

Rafe emerged suddenly from the shadows and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Shan. Stop.”

“What is it?” I asked, taken aback. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s… here. Let’s go outside.” He pulled me gently but forcefully toward the door.

“What the fuck, Rafe, stop it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s your dad. He…”

I shoved Rafael out of the way and stepped forward into the comm station. My father came into clearer focus, and I could tell immediately something wasn’t right. I came closer and dropped the basket to the floor in shock. His body hung limply, his feet swaying gently five centimeters from the floor. A length of electrical cord, half-stripped from the wall behind him, was wound tightly around his neck. I grabbed his feet and lifted, crying. “No no no no no, dad, fuck.” I pushed and contorted his body, trying to free him but to no avail. Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and wet.

I pulled a short table across the concrete floor and climbed up onto it, my vision blurred with anger and fear and sobs. I yanked at the cable, trying to unwind it, to free his body. I pulled and wrenched and screamed in desperation, banging on the overhead truss that supported it until I nearly broke my hand. I collapsed onto him, my hands around his shoulders, my face against his chest. His skin was cold and pallid. I was too late to save him.

“Shan.” Rafael stood in the entryway to the station. He offered his hand I took it gingerly, climbing down from the table and following him outside. He pulled me in close as I wailed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t…”

I pulled Rafe to the ground and cried for another few minutes, my chest heaving with agony. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered finally.

“It’s not yours either. You did the best you could.”

“I know.” I pulled the sleeve of my jumper up over my hand and wiped my eyes. “I think a part of me knew it would always end like this. It has so many times before. In a way it might be… I don’t know. Better? I’d always worried about what he would be like after.”

I gulped in air as my breathing stabilized. “Come help me get him down?”

“Sure,” he said, mustering a weak smile.

We went back into the station and looked upon him once more. He looked frail, fragile in a way he hadn’t before. Being alone this long, it just did things to a person. Rafael grabbed his feet as I climbed back up on the table. With Rafe bracing his weight I was able to loosen the taught cable and slip it free, and we lowered the body gently down to the table. He went out to the truck to get a bag to cover my father, and I stood silent vigil, until in the quiet I heard a strange humming noise from across the room. I turned and saw that the Network terminal screen was activated. “That’s… weird.”

I walked across and stood in front of the terminal, suddenly alive with activity. Rafe entered back in with the bag. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know. It’s not usually… on.” I leaned in close. “It’s displaying something.”

A line of dots and dashed appeared on the interface. “I… I think it’s old morse code. Dad had to learn it. I helped him practice.”

“What’s it say?” he asked, a sudden dread in his voice I didn’t recognize. I could feel my stomach welling up in anxiety as well.

“It says.... HELP.”

[misssophiachase]

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime. 

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile. 

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time. 

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted. 

But yet here she was running his life. 

Still. 

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder.  “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed. 

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display. 

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that. 

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea. 

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind. 

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that. 

Although this one was another kind of beast. 

The effortlessly attractive kind. 

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. 

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself. 

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious. 

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.  

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?” 

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly. 

It was paralysing. 

But good paralysing he decided. 

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it?  Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.   

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”  

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him. 

Until now. 

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional. 

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile? 

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever. 

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke. 

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?” 

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.” 

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought? 

Care Bear.  Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again. 

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act. 

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out. 

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone. 

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear.  Again. 

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised. 

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface. 

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance. 

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day.. 

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly. 

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef.  He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression. 

He didn’t smile.

Not once. 

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject. 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped. 

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile. 

“What was her specialty?” 

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory. 

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame.  According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.” 

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?  

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

 “Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself. 

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory. 

That’s what scared him the most. 

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours. 

He wasn’t this guy. 

At all. 

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left. 

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course. 

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.” 

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.  

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed. 

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?” 

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.” 

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her. 

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away.  She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable.  It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans. 

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Finding Courage

Written for the Kidge Spring Event! 

Prompt 6: Edelweiss | Courage, Devotion

Summary: AU - Canon Divergence. Five years after the end of the war, Pidge finds herself wanting to go back out and see the universe with her own eyes. Luckily, she knows someone who can help with that, but only if she can find the courage to ask.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

The time had come.

Pidge looked in the mirror as she ran her hands down the sides of her shirt, trying to smooth out the few wrinkles that had accumulated. She wanted to look nice, but not too nice. Lance and Hunk would notice if she was trying too hard and they would poke and prod until they were satisfied with the answer she gave, and that wasn't something she really wanted to deal with. (Shiro was likely to notice as well but at least he would be polite enough to keep it to himself.)  

Which was why she'd selected a pair of jeans, her signature green shirt (at least according to Lance), and her nicer lab coat that didn't have oil stains all over it. And while for most of their Team Voltron get-togethers she would forgo the lab coat for something nicer, she had plans to drop by the hangar where Project Lionheart was in the works to grab a few things from the lab she shared with Matt.

Text appeared at the bottom of her glasses.

Matt: I leave in 10 minutes if you want a ride.

Pidge pressed her finger to the right side of her frames. “Send message: I'll be down soon.”

Her new glasses were a labor of love that were nearly five years in the making. She'd spent countless nights trying to link it to her computer and then to get the voice recognition to work and then to devise a lightweight battery that would both hold a charge for a minimum of twelve hours while also having the capability of being wirelessly recharged. She'd wrangled Matt and Hunk into helping her, which sometimes involved 2 am conversations when she couldn't sleep because an idea wouldn't leave her alone, but she needed someone's brain to pick and see if she was crazy or on the right track.

She still had a hundred new ideas to try out for it, but for the moment it was the perfect way for her family to contact her when she was eyeballs deep in some new project. (Not to mention, it was also remarkably helpful in displaying measurements and any other schematics when she needed them.)

Pidge slung her bag containing her laptop over her shoulder and then headed downstairs to join Matt and tell her parents they were headed out.

Colleen pulled her in for a tight hug, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I'm so proud of you!”

“Mom, I haven't even asked him yet,” Pidge complained, her voice muffled against her mom's shirt.

“Oh, please, like he's going to say 'no'?” Matt remarked from the doorway. He grinned at the glare his sister cast in his direction. “I'm just saying that I talk to Shiro a lot. And you know who else talks to Shiro? Keith does. Trust me, he'll be tripping over himself to agree to let you join him.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. The very idea of Keith being anything other than composed and unshakable by something she had to say was silly. Maybe it would have been different when they were younger and just starting out as Team Voltron, but not after all of their experiences during the war and throughout Reconstruction.

“You're all getting way ahead of yourselves,” Pidge said as she extricated herself from her mom's arms. “And making way too big of a deal out of this. All I'm doing is asking if I can go with him and help with the Outreach Program.”

With Kolivan serving as the interim Emperor of the Galra until he either stepped down or Reconstruction reached its ten-year mark, it had fallen on Krolia to lead the weakened, but not fully depleted, Blade of Marmora. She split the Blade into two separate but equal groups – one to continue their undercover work and root out any insurgents before they could cause too much trouble and the other a much more public branch dedicated to reaching out to affected planets and offering aid in whatever way they could.

Pidge, who felt like she was stagnating by staying on Earth and doing the same thing day in and day out, thought that going back out and seeing the universe with her own eyes was exactly what she needed. And sure, she could ask Hunk if she could tag along with his crew and he would gladly welcome her on board, but she wasn't sure she'd really find what she was looking for on a ship devoted to the culinary arts of the universe. Pidge had thought about it for a long time and, in the end, came to the conclusion that asking Keith was the way to go.

That was months ago and she'd seen him twice since then. She'd chickened out both of those times.

Because maybe she had a second motive for wanting to go with him. Something beyond wanting to explore the universe and even more of a... personal desire.

“Leaving already?” Sam asked, poking his head into the entrance hall.

Matt nodded. “Yeah, I have a few things to check on in the lab and Pidge wants to get to her meeting on time, so I figured we should head out.”

Pidge and Matt wrapped up their goodbyes and then set off to the Galaxy Garrison, where Matt dropped her off close to the Voltron Memorial before continuing on his way to the parking garage. Pidge watched him leave before she began making her way up the gleaming white stairs, which led to the top of a hill where a massive stone sculpture of Voltron stood watching over the land.

Normally the area was crawling with tourists, but once a year it was reserved for a group of 7 as they celebrated the day they first met.

As Pidge reached the top of the steps, she saw most of her friends were already there and seated at a round patio table. Shiro was smiling as he listened to whatever story Lance was enthusiastically telling, while Hunk leaned back and occasionally interjected.  Lance paused his story as she approached.

“You're on time!”

“Like you haven't been late a time or two,” Pidge shot defensively shot back. Seriously, she was late once or twice (or a lot) because she got wrapped up in something she was working for and the man would never let her forget it.

Lance grinned at her. “I was just telling Shiro and Hunk about the time you came out to visit the farm.”

“A memory I'd rather forget,” Pidge said with a wince. She sat down between Hunk and Shiro and gently set her bag down on the floor at her feet. “Where's everyone else? I figured Allura and Coran would have come with you, Lance.”

“Dropping the twins off with Romelle. She agreed to babysit,” Lance responded.

“Even after last time? Brave woman,” Hunk joked.

Pidge couldn't help but smile. The twins were Lance and Allura's 3-year-old children, Alfor and Maribel, and were a handful even for the most experienced and patient people. Romelle was practically a saint for being able to watch them on her own and Pidge wished she could know how she did it. (Maybe then she wouldn't end up covered in mud or running from bees or locked in the attic, all of which had happened during her first and last visit to the farm and was undoubtedly the story Lance was telling when she walked up.)

“You could have brought them along. I would love to see Alfor and Maribel again,” Shiro said.

Lance shook his head. “No, trust me. This is the better option. If we take our eyes off of them for even a second they'll have climbed to the top of the Voltron statue. Somehow. And good luck getting them down.”

Shiro made a sound to indicate his disbelief. “They're not that bad.”

“Yes, they are,” Lance and Pidge deadpanned in unison.

And honestly, they were sweet kids, but the amount of trouble they could get into was staggering and, in some ways, only reinforced Pidge's feelings that she never wanted to have any of her own.

Lance soon launched into a series of stories of the more interesting antics of the twins, which Allura and Coran backed up once they arrived. Pidge found herself laughing over some of the ones she hadn't heard before and because of that, she completely missed Keith's arrival via one very special cosmic wolf. He easily inserted himself into the conversation as he took a seat between Shiro and Coran – directly across from Pidge – and it was like he'd been there the whole time.

They soon branched off from stories about the twins so everyone could describe what they'd been up to since the last time all seven of them were together.

Lance and Allura, of course, had the kids and their farm on New Altea, which they ran with the help of Lance's family. In the beginning, Allura tried to split her time between them and trying to rule as Queen, but it eventually became too much and she turned to Coran for help, who suggested a council of trusted individuals to run the day-to-day duties that were necessary for the new planet to flourish. No one was surprised when he was elected Head Chancellor of the Council.

Even once things calmed down, Shiro retained his role as Captain of the Atlas, if only for the fact that he was the only one the ship responded to. The big, bulky ship didn't have much use outside of exploration and assisting with Reconstruction (sometimes by providing extra muscle for goods, sometimes just for transporting more sensitive or bulky materials), but Shiro spoke of his job and crew with pride. He even mentioned that he started seeing someone, though he wouldn't say who.

(“It's still new to both of us,” he said in response to Lance's begging. “We want to wait and see where things go before we start telling everyone.”)

Hunk had a myriad of new stories about all of the new recipes he created, as well as some of his worst failures. He had them all laughing so hard that it brought tears to their eyes at some of his descriptions. He then spoke of future plans and how he was looking to hire more chefs to help with the increased demand for their food before turning the conversation over to Keith.

“There isn't much to say,” Keith said with a shrug. “It's not like anything has changed since the last time we talked. You all know what I've been doing.”

“Are you really going to sit there and say that nothing interesting has happened to you? You're traveling with Zethrid and Ezor and yet you have no stories?” Lance asked incredulously. “Nope. I don't believe it.”

“You don't have to believe it, but it's true.”

Some things never change.

Pidge tried not to laugh as the two bickered. They only stopped because Shiro stepped in to put an end to it and then it was her turn to gloss over what she'd been working on. Project Lionheart was largely still a secret, though they'd be ready to announce its existence in a few months.

Hours bled together as the seven friends sat and talked and laughed together. Eventually, the sun began to set and Allura and Lance stood to say their goodbyes and go collect the twins from Romelle. Shiro followed soon after, giving the excuse that he had a “hot date” to get ready for, and then Coran and Hunk left together, talking about food supply and whether or not Hunk was willing to make a stop by New Altea during his next round trip.

That left Pidge with Keith.

Alone.

With no one else around to watch her make a fool of herself.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked.

Pidge jerked her head up to stare at him with wide eyes. “Y-yeah, of course! Why wouldn't I be? Everything's great!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You've been more quiet than usual.”

Pidge opened her mouth to protest and then immediately shut it. He wasn't wrong. She'd spent most of the afternoon trying not to blurt out her question in the middle of someone else talking and she was dying to get it over with. Finally, they were alone and it was the perfect chance, but everything she wanted to say had suddenly fled her mind.

It was ridiculous!

Keith was her friend!

Her rather handsome friend who she'd developed a large crush on, but her friend nevertheless. Talking to him was easy. She just needed to keep it simple.

“I was wondering... If I asked to go with you the next time you head out, what would you say?”

She watched as Keith sucked in a breath as her words registered in his mind, his eyes widening slightly, and then...

“I'd say that I'd be lucky to have you by my side. You're welcome to come along whenever you'd like.”

[rjhpandapaws]

A Cup of Something Better

Ch 10: Down to the Wire

This was it, the week that had been two years in the making, his last finals week as a gen ed student. Assuming he passed all his tests, he would be able to take the nurses exam the following Friday. If he passed that he be enrolled into the nursing program for the fall semester. Five tests over three days, not the worst test load that he'd dealt with. The fact that they were between five and eleven at night was a pain in the ass.

He'd asked for the week off from the cafe so he could have more time to study. Some of the time he spent studying was also spent at the cafe, he preferred the idle chatter over the silence of his apartment.

Connor was spending the morning at the cafe again, going over calculus today. He had an Iced Americano that was helping to keep him concentrated. He'd had a few late nights that he was beginning to feel the effects of. His first set of tests was tonight, calculus and art history. Tomorrow was biology and mythology. The day after being his sociology final. Hank thankfully didn't have a final for his class so Connor had a chance to recuperate before his nurses exam.

He finished the problem he was working on and sat back rubbing at his face to try and wake up more. He needed to focus. He took another drink of his coffee and looked around the cafe, it was almost empty. As one would expect at ten in the morning on a Monday. He finished his coffee and figured he could use the break to order another drink. Hopefully he'd be more awake afterward.

He headed for the counter and ordered his usual before heading back to the table. Refueled and somewhat ready to go again, he sat back down and got back to work.

Connor woke up sometime later to North knocking on the table. He looked up to find that it wasn’t North, but Hank, though the red haired she-devil was behind the counter laughing.

“So, uh, North asked me to bring you this.” Hank said after a moment, setting the bigger of the two cups on the table, “she also said that knocking on the table would wake you up.”

“Thanks.” Connor took the cup and yawned, “you can sit down if you want. I’m just studying.”

Hank chuckled as he took a seat, “planning on learning through osmosis? I was lead to believe you had to be awake in order to study properly.”

Connor rolled his eyes as he took a drink from what turned out to be a large cup filled with just espresso shots, “I’ll do whatever works at this point.” He covered a yawn and leaned forward, “how do you like having the week off? Getting any writing done?”

Hank laughed as Connor got back to work on his calculus, “I’ve gotten a couple of chapters into my manuscript and started a couple of short stories.”

Connor took another drink from his cup, “you’re planning to release another collection then?” He yawned, “how is Sumo doing?”

When Connor looked up Hank was looking at him with a concerned expression. HIs brow was furrowed and his sky blue eyes were clouded over with worry. Connor knew that he looked rough but he was pretty sure he wasn’t bad enough to warrant that level of concern.

“Sumo is doing fine.” Hank leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, “can you answer something for me Connor?”

“Hmm?” Connor sat up from where he had been slouching into his textbook again, “what’s up?”

“How many days has it been since you’ve gotten a full night’s rest?” Hank watched as he took another drink of his ‘coffee’.

“Today is Monday so...” He counted back on his fingers, muttering the days of the week under his breath, “Saturday, I think. Why?”

Hank sighed, and the sound was pure disappointment, something that if it hadn’t been directed at Connor would have impressed him, “Since you’re the one of us going into nursing, I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s wrong with that Connor. Do me a favor and get some rest. You can’t keep going like this.”

“I sleep two hours before classes. I’ve increased my calorie intake and added more caffeine into the mix as well.” He stumbled over his words as he yawned again, “five hour energy and espresso have been life savers for me.”

“Connor.” Hank groaned, “I was in college too, so I can’t argue with you, but try and get at least get four hours today alright?” He put a hand up when Connor opened his mouth to argue, “I know your nurses exam is important to you Con, but what happens if you burn out before then? You’ll have to wait a whole semester to take it again.”

In theory Connor knew him to be correct, but he had so many tests and he wanted to make sure that he was ready, “I just don’t want to fail Hank, if I can’t pass these then I won’t even be taking the nurses exam.”

Connor could feel tears pooling behind his eyes from the lack of sleep as well as the stress. The nickname made Connor give a watery smile as he rubbed at his face trying to collect himself.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” Hank reached out and squeezed his wrist reassuringly, “I’ve gotten to see you at work Con, you’ve got these tests in the bag. Go home, get some rest.”

Connor let out a wet laugh and wiped his eyes with his free hand. After another reassuring squeeze Hank let go of his wrist and Connor began packing up his things and putting them back in his bag not quite managing to bite back another yawn. He was starting to think no amount of coffee was gonna help this. With everything packed he sat back and rubbed at his face again hoping to wake up a little more.

“Alright.” Connor said before he drank more of his coffee, “time to go home and nap I guess. Sorry you had to wake me.”

Hank chuckled, “Its no problem. Do you need a ride? The weather looks like its going to take a turn for the worse.”

Connor looked out the windows and despite it being early afternoon apparently, the sky was almost black and the wind was howling through the streets, “thanks, but I’ll just get a cab.”

Hank nodded and stood. They walked out together and parted ways at the parking lot with a wave. Connor hailed a cab and checked his phone which had been vibrating consistently since Hank had stood up. There were several new messages in the coffee shop group chat, probably because he had been crying.

The Coffee Crew:

Northern_Lights: Aww, you two are so cute together

Northern_Lights: Why are you crying?

Northern_Lights: Is it his fault? I’ll kick his ass if I have to

Northern_Lights: Holding hands?

Northern_Lights: You’re good then?

Northern_Lights: Connor?

RunawayArkait: North, everything is fine.

SimonSays: Are you sure? We saw you cry

RunawayArkait: I haven’t been sleeping and the stress from finals got to me

RunawayArkait: Hank kind of gave me a pep talk is all

SimonSays: Aww his name is Hank, that’s fitting

Northern_Lights: That had better been all. Or I will fight him.

RunawayArkait: It’s fine North. I’m gonna get some sleep then get to class

Northern_Lights: Sleep well

SimonSays: You got this!

Connor smiled at his phone as he paid and got out of the cab. He walked up to his apartment and set an alarm for a half hour before he needed to leave. He set his backpack by the door and went to change into pyjamas. Connor was still fighting off the embarrassment from having cried in front of Hank, if he needed to sleep anything off it was that. Hank probably found him to be weak and pathetic for having cried ever a few tests. Whatever chance, if he’d even had one, was gone.

He sighed and rubbed at his face again and climbed into bed, double checking that his alarm was on and also at full volume. He plugged his phone in and rolled over falling asleep almost instantly. When his alarm went off he hadn’t moved. The song blared to life yanking Connor violently back into consciousness. He groaned, sat up, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes He turned off the alarm and checked his phone. He had quite a few messages.

The Family Feud:

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ve got this Connor!

UnluckyNine: You’ll be a nurse in no time

RunawayArkait: Thank you

The Coffee Crew:

Northern_Lights: Good luck college boy!

SimonSays: Don’t worry alright? You’re a genius

What.Josh.Does: See you in calculus. Who ever scores the lowest buys drinks on Friday

RunawayArkait: Thanks guys. You’re on Josh.

Made-By_Markus messaged you!

Made-By_Markus: Good luck Connor!

RunawayArkait: Thank you Markus.

Connor dressed in his day clothes again and made a pot of coffee. Travel mug filled, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He pulled up his hood as he got to the parking lot since the storm picked up since his nap. He walked toward the road and caught a cab to head to the university. On the ride over he pulled out the notes he had taken for his calculus class and got in some last minute studying.

He arrived early and made his way to the Math and Science building. Josh was waiting at one of the hallway tables and waved Connor over. There were two paper Hand Brewed Hope cups on the table, when Connor took his seat Josh slid one over to him.

“Figured you could use the pick me up.” Connor took a drink of what turned out to be Chai Tea with cinnamon and nutmeg as Josh spoke, “I know finals week is rough on you.”

Connor gave a dry chuckle, “It’s just stressful, and even more than usual this time because of the nurses exam.” He sighed softly, “You had tow tests earlier today. How do you think you did?”

He was distracting himself, but thankfully Josh let him, “Good. I was more confident for my philosophy exam than I was for chemistry, but it is what it is. Once I finish this up I’ll get to move on to student teaching. Which I’m looking forward to.”

Connor smiled, Josh was excited to becoming a teacher. He was going to be missed at the cafe but he would have more fun as a teacher, “You’ll be great at it. Those kids are going to adore you.”

Josh beamed at him and Connor took another drink from his tea, “I’m gonna miss the cafe though.”

“We’re gonna miss you too.” Connor said kindly, “I’m sorry that I can’t join you guys this weekend but I’m going to be getting ready for my nurses exam.”

“It’s alright Connor. We know how much this means to you, so no one is holding it against you.” Josh responded with a gentle smile.

When it came time to, they grabbed their things and headed for class. Josh gave Connor’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he headed for his seat at the back of the class.  Connor headed for his as well, letting out a shaky sigh. He had an ‘A’ in this class, he could handle one last test. Probably.

The two hour test block seemed to crawl by. He fell into routine, solving the problems as he went and then checking them over when he had finished. Then, just to be sure, he checked them again. With a half hour left in the test block he grabbed his things, turned in his completed exam, and made his way to building one to study for his art history final. Having found a bench to sit at and go over his notes, he sent a few messages.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Calculus is done, just Art History left

RunawayArkait: Just finished calculus

UnluckyNine: Good job! You’ve got this one in the bag too

Sixty-Second-Set: Look at you go!

SimonSays: Bet you nailed it

Northern_Lights: Nicely done, you beat Josh

_

RunawayArkait: Calculus is done

Made-By_Markus: Congratulations Connor!

Connor was smiling as he put his phone away as he put his phone away and began to study, wanting to be as prepared as possible for the final. He packed up when the door to the lecture hall opened. When the class had emptied he took his seat and got ready for his exam.

This two hour block went by a little. Though that was probably because he had the confidence of having finished one already. When he finished this one he could go home and sleep for a couple hours before he got back to studying. This final took him a little longer but he finished it with ten minutes to spare. If he napped in the cab he could spend even more time studying. He probably wouldn’t though, he hated sleeping in cars. He sent messages as he headed out.

The Family Feud: 

RunawayArkait: Done for the night

UnluckyNine: Nice. Now you can get some rest

The Coffee Crew:

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ll be a nurse in no time

_

RunawayArkait: First day of finals is over

What.Josh.Does: Congrats! Meet me at building 27 and I’ll give you a ride home

SimonSays: Three more to go, you’ve got this

Northern_Lights: You’re doing great

@Made-By_Markus

RunawayArkait: Thanks. I’ll be there soon Josh

_

RunawayArkait: One night down, two to go

Made-By_Markus: Don’t forget to get some rest.

Tuesday morning found him back at the cafe, is biology textbook as well as the semester’s notes spread over the table. He’d been at this since about midnight; rotating between biology, mythology, sociology, and subjects that would be covered on the nurses exam. His travel mug still had some coffee in it so he hadn’t bought a drink yet and he also had a couple of five hour energy shots in his bag if needed them. He figured he would, because despite the extra sleep he had gotten yesterday, Connor could still feel exhaustion hanging off of him.

After a couple hours he switched from biology to mythology when his concentration started to wane. When that didn’t work he grabbed a five hour energy bottle and got in line to order. He tossed the bottle between his hands without looking at it, occasionally tossing it straight up only to catch it and start the cycle over again. He had put it back in his university sweatshirt pocket by the time it was his turn to order. He was ordering a drink that North had made up that wasn’t on the menu, so he said it out loud.

“I’ll take a large Due North, Simon.” Connor said around a yawn and Simon looked at him with concern.

“You do know that drink is basically just straight espresso with a couple pumps of chocolate syrup right?” Simon was typing the drink in anyway, “with how much coffee you drink in a day, I’m worried you might vibrate out of existence.” 

“I’ll be fine Simon,” Connor said as he paid for his drink, “I just need a little extra help staying awake today is all.”

“If you’re sure Connor,” Simon said as he handed the cup off to Josh who looked at it with worry.

While he stood in the crowd to wait out his drink he got out his lucky quarter and began to toss it between his hands. He would stop and roll it over is knuckles, toss it straight up, catch it and then start over. On the third pass his drink was called, he pocketed the coin as he walked up to the counter. He thanked Josh and took his drink. When he got back to the table he took the lid off of the cup and added the energy shot, stirring it with the straw so it would mix in. He put the lid on and took a drink when he finished. If the sheer amount of caffeine didn’t keep him awake, the taste probably would.

Connor was surprised that he actually finished the monstrosity that North had created. He’d moved on from mythology to sociology, and despite all of the caffeine pumping through his body, he could still feel himself fading. He knew he couldn’t go up for another coffee so soon after pumping so much espresso into himself, Simon wouldn’t let him. So he would just have to tough it out. He leaned more into his notes, resting his arms on the table.

He woke up to talking, “North, why are you drawing on him?”

“Because, he fell asleep and he knows the rules.” Came North’s reply, and now that Connor was slightly more coherent, he could feel something moving against his face. He opened his eyes with a tired groan and whatever had been on his face was yanked away. North laughed, “Shit.”

“Morning Sunshine.” Hank said with an amused smile as Connor sat up, “how is your studying going? I can see you’re trying that learning by osmosis thing again.”

He gave Hank a tired smile as North laughed, “it seemed to work well enough yesterday.”

“Alright Point Dexter, go wash the dicks off your face. I’ll have another Due North for you when you get back out.” North said as she pulled Connor to his feet.

As Connor made his way to the bathroom to clean his face North retreated back behind the counter. He checked the mirror to find that, yes, North had actually drawn cartoon dicks of various sizes along the left side of his face and a detailed shooting star down the side of his neck, He wet a paper towel and started rubbing at his face, glad that they didn’t use permanent marker to write on the cups.

With all the marker washed off his face and neck Connor went back to the table to find Hank had settled in and gotten to work on his laptop. As promised there was another large Due North beside his sociology notes. He sat down and gave Hank a tired half smile.

“So why was North drawing on your face?” Hank asked as he looked up from his typing, “she said something about rules.”

“Yeah.” Connor laughed rubbing at the back of his neck, “the first time you fall asleep in public is a freebie, after that whoever catches you gets to draw on your face. Either she caught me, or Simon chickened out again.”

“So you fall asleep while out and about pretty often then?” Was Hank’s follow up as he watched Connor get out his biology textbook.

“Sometimes,” he said with a casual shrug, “usually during midterms or finals week when I spend most of my time studying.”

“Your nap yesterday was your freebie then?” Hank’s attention was returning to his work, as was Connor’s.

“Probably, or your timing saved me.” With that the conversation fell away to be replaced with the clicking of a keyboard and the occasional turning pf a page.

It was a few hours later when Hank stood, “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want anything?”

Connor looked up from his notes, “A Chai Tea please. Thank you Hank.”

“No problem kid.” He said as he headed for the counter.

Connor put his biology book away and got out what he needed for mythology. He had about two hours until he needed to leave for the university. Time to concentrate on his test subjects. He sat back and stretched, his back popped like a line of fire crackers since this was the first time he had moved in a few hours.

By the time Hank got back with the drinks, Connor was once again absorbed in his work and jumped when a paper cup came into his line of sight. Hank laughed as he sat down.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got tunnel vision Con?” He remarked with a laugh, “I called your name three times before I gave up.”

There was that nickname again and the bubbling warmth that came with it. Connor was fighting not to grin like an idiot when he spoke, “A few times. Sorry though, I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

Hank chuckled as he got back to work, “I get the same way when I work sometimes too. Don’t worry.”

“After tonight I’ll at least be getting my sleep schedule back,” Connor said as a way of making conversation, “I just have sociology tomorrow and then I can pace myself for the nurses exam.”

“North won’t be able to draw on your face anymore,” Hank laughed, “but honestly, I’m glad you’ll be catching up on your rest.”

“I’m honestly just looking forward to getting back to my normal work schedule.” Hank gaped at him.

“Connor, do you ever take time off?” He asked, worry lining his voice.

“Yeah. When I’m sick, for finals week, and whenever Silas has a performance that’s within travelling distance. Why?” Connor asked with a tilt of his head.

Hank shook his head, “Let me rephrase that. Do you ever take time off for yourself Connor?”

“Well no. But I don’t need to, I’m happy.”

Hank sighed and leaned forward resting his forearms on the table on either side of his laptop, “Connor are you working this weekend?”

“No. I have-”

“Great. You’re gonna meet me here at noon on Saturday. I’m going to bring you to my place and you’re gonna meet Sumo. One day, that’s all I’m asking.” Hank’s tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to be taking no as an answer.

“Alright.” Connor wouldn’t have turned down the offer anyway, not when it came to spending time to Hank.

With that taken care of, they both got back to work. Connor nearly jumped out of his skin when the alarm on his phone went off. From the looks of it, the sound had startled Hank  as well. Connor turned it off quickly and began packing his things.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he said with an awkward laugh, “I’m gonna grab a drink for the road, Want me to get you anything?”

When he looked up, Hank was also getting his things together, “how about you get the drinks Saturday. I’ll join you in line though.”

Connor waited for Hank to finish getting his things together and then they joined the line. Now that he was standing, Connor stretched slightly to alleviate some of the stiffness in his back and let out a satisfied sigh when he finished.

“Do you have plans for the night Hank?” He asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Go home, order take out and pend time with my dog.” He replied, “What about you?”

“Take my finals. Then when I get home check to see if I passed the ones I took yesterday and either order victory or pity pizza.” He responded which got a laugh out of Hank.

“How about this. Since I’m so certain it will be victory pizza, I’ll pay for it.”

“But you don’t have my number,” Connor said turning to face Hank.

“You’ll have to give it to me then, won’t you.” He said with a wink and Connor died. Or maybe he was already dead. Adding that energy shot to the Due North probably killed him and this was just a hallucination.

Hank tapped Connor’s shoulder to get his attention and he took the offered phone. He put his number in and set his contact as Connor :). He handed the phone back and by the time he got to the counter he felt his phone vibrate with a message, he could guess who it was from. Josh gave him a suspicious smile.

“Don’t even start.” Connor muttered, cutting him off, “a medium black coffee please.”

Josh put one hand up in mock surrender and used the other to put in the drink order. Connor paid and headed for the end counter, fighting a smile the whole way.

He checked his phone for new messages, and sure enough there were two from a new number.

3132480705: Hello

3132480705: This is Hank :)

Connor: Hello Hank :)

He added the other to his contact list under Hank <3, because he had a crush and couldn’t help himself. He put his phone back in his sweatshirt pocket as Hank joined the group at the end counter.

“So what tests are you taking tonight,” Hank asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner.

“Biology and then mythology. Tomorrow is sociology.” Connor pulled his phone out to double check his calendar, then put it away again, “then assuming I’ve passed those I’m scheduled to take my nurses exam next Friday.”

“It’s good that you gave yourself a week to study,” he said as Connor went up for his drink, when he came back Connor was wearing a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, didn’t plan it like this. The first testing block was full when I applied.” He waved at Hank as he stepped away, “anyway I’ve got to go. I can, um, text you updates if you want.”

“Sure. Good luck Con.” Hank said as Connor left the cafe.

As soon as he got a cab he texted the group chat which had been suspiciously quiet the whole time he had been with Hank.

The Coffee Crew: 

RunawayArkait: Hank gave me his number!

RunawayArkait: Also! I am meeting Sumo this weekend.

RunawayArkait: So, progress. I think?

What.Josh.Does: You have his number and you’re meeting his dog. Yet you’re still questioning if you made progress

Northern_Lights: Go get your man!

SimonSays: Be safe please

RunawayArkait: I mean, Saturday is more of a hostage situation

RunawayArkait: I don’t take enough time for myself apparently

Northern_Lights: Oh. So you’ll listen to him on that!

Northern_Lights: What does that make us?

RunawayArkait: Friends who I love dearly

What.Josh.Does: Well either way, congrats

SimonSays: Don’t forget to tell your brothers

RunawayArkait: Thanks

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Guess what?

Sixty-Second-Set: Your finals were cancelled!

UnluckyNine: You passed your exams?

RunawayArkait: Close, but no

RunawayArkait: Hank gave me his number

UnluckyNine: Nice

Sixty-Second-Set: It’s about fucking time

Sixty-Second-Set: If I had to hear you shine about him one more time I was going to pose as you and get it myself

RunawayArkait: Silas!

UnluckyNine: Just be glad it didn’t come to that

Connor rolled his eyes as the cab pulled up to the university. It shouldn’t surprise him that Silas would threaten him with something that extreme, in Silas’s opinion the more dramatic the even the better. Connor was glad it hadn’t needed to come to that, he knew Silas had meant it. He paid for the cab and made his way to building 27 for the last time this week.

He made his way to the second floor and took a seat at one of the hall tables. He took out his biology notes to go over them again before it was time for the test. He had half an hour, he wouldn’t get through everything but it was better than nothing. Science was a bit like math in that following a predetermined procedure would lead to one of a few results.

The half hour passed quickly since he was preoccupied, when students began leaving the lecture hall he began packing up his things. Just like his two previous finals, he didn’t feel like he was ready. He knew his grades by themselves were good enough to get him into the program, but the tests also came with a passing margin and he didn’t want to rely on his grades alone.

HIs  father had raised him and his brothers under the belief that it wouldn’t matter how hard they worked toward their goals since there would always be someone out there that could do it better. He had meant for it to encourage them to go to school and help with the business, but Connor had taken it to mean that he needed to be the one working the hardest to get where he wanted in life. Silas had done similarly albeit in a very different way, and Richard had worked to make himself as close to invisible as possible.

He was waiting outside the classroom for the last of the students to leave when his phone vibrated and pulled him from his thoughts. He pulled it out of his hoodie to put it on silent and saw a message from Hank. He had time, so he opened it.

Hank <3: You’ve got this kid

Connor: Thanks :)

Connor smiled and put his phone away. The room was finally empty and the professor allowed them to come in. He took his usual seat and took a moment to mentally prepare. He got drawn into the test into the test and what he needed of the two hour block flew by. He finished with fifteen minutes left after having gone over his answer just to be sure. He texted Hank first as he left the classroom.

Connor: One more then I’m done for the night

Hank <3: You’ll do great, don’t worry

Connor: :)

He waited until he was in building 1 to message everyone else. He sat in the second floor study area and took a break from his notes.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Just mythology left

UnluckyNine: That should be easy

Sixty-Second-Set: Hopefully there aren’t any essay questions.

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Last test for the night is mythology

SimonSays: You’ll be able to get some decent sleep tonight

What.Josh.Does: Good Luck

Northern_Lights: God I hated that class

He spent the hour before his mythology final studying for it. Working his way through all of the lecture and reading notes he had taken during the semester. This particular professor didn’t believe in midterms so the final covered everything they had gone over during the semester. It annoyed Connor slightly, he would rather take two smaller tests than one massive one. They had been told that there would be at least ten questions from each era of mythology they had covered. it was a daunting undertaking and Connor didn’t think he was ready for it. Not that it mattered much, considering as he didn’t have a choice, but the sheer size of the test made his looming anxiety seem heavier. If he didn’t finish in time he would fail automatically and could kiss his shot at the nurses exam goodbye.

Connor did his best to shake those thoughts from his head as he go this things together. Maybe if he got there as the first exam was finishing he could get an early start. He grabbed his bag and made his way to the classroom waiting across the hall for the other exam to let out. He got his quarter out again to calm his nerves. He went through the same motions as the cafe. Rolling the coin over his knuckles before tossing it in the air and catching it. He did all of this without looking. On the fifth toss the door opened and Connor caught his coin putting it away. He waited for a gap in the students so he could enter the classroom. The professor wouldn’t let him start early, but he did gain extra time to study as he waited on his classmates. He hoped it would help him get through the test faster to have some of the information fresh in his mind.

When the exam was handed out Connor silently cursed Silas and came to understand why North had hated the class so much. More than half of the test was made up of short answer or essay questions. This was going to take forever. With a sigh that was just as much annoyed as it was anxious Connor started on the exam. He finished with a little over five minutes left in the test period. He was one of the last students in the room. He turned in the exam and left quickly, letting out a relieved sigh once he was back in the hall.

Connor: Done for the night and about to head home

Hank <3: How are you feeling?

Connor: Stressed and relieved

Connor: Happy that this is almost over

Hank <3: Take a break tonight. Alright?

Hank <3: Try and unwind

Connor: That sounds like a good plan

Connor: When I get home I’ll let you know if you owe me a pizza :p

Hank <3: Cheeky bastard

Connor: That shouldn’t be news to you

Hank <3: Its not ;)

Connor smiled at the conversation and opened discord as he got in the cab. He tapped his apartment address into the terminal before he messaged his brothers.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Silas you jinxed me

RunawayArkait: More than half the test was short answer or essay questions

Sixty-Second-Set: Oops. But you finished didn’t you?

UnluckyNine: Obviously. Congrats by the way

Sixty-Second-Set: Then everything is fine

RunawayArkait: Anyway, I’m gonna be offline for the night

Sixty-Second-Set: Enjoy talking with Hank

UnluckyNine: Don’t do anything Silas wouldn’t do

RunawayArkait: That leaves me a lot of options

RunawayArkait: Also I hate you both

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Done for the night

RunawayArkait: We can compare test scores tomorrow Josh. I’m going to be offline tonight

SimonSays: Tell Hank hello

RunawayArkait: Why is everyone assuming that!

Northern_Lights: Are we wrong

RunawayArkait: Well no

What.Josh.Does: Alright. Tomorrow then. Have a good night Connor

RunawayArkait: Thanks

He opened Canvas in his phone’s web browser to check if the exams from yesterday had been graded. They had been and he had passed them both. He had gotten 100% on his calculus exam and a 95% on his art history exam. Both above the cut off. It was definitely going to be victory pizza. Then he was going to unwind with a glass of wine and a bubble bath. He’d use what was left of his night to catch up on his sleep.

The cab pulled up to his apartment complex, he paid and got out to head up to his unit. Once he was inside and had put his backpack away and sent Hank a screen shot of his test results.

Connor: So, victory pizza?

Hank <3: Victory pizza. You got any place you usually order from

Connor: Nope. You can pick

Connor: Medium with cheese and mushrooms please

Hank <3: I really should have known that your pizza order was going to be fucking weird

Hank <3: I need your complex name and your apartment number

Connor: Ridgewood Apartments building B5 apartment 205-B

Hank <3: Alright. It’ll be there in an hour

Connor: You’re the best

Hank <3: You only say that because I bought you pizza

Connor: And coffee ;)

Hank <3: You’re the worst

Connor: I try my best

He put his phone on full volume and walked into the kitchen and got out a stemless wine glass as well as the bottle of white wine Silas had bough him the last time he came over. He poured himself half a glass and put the bottle away. With the glass in hand he made his way back to the living room sat back on the couch and kicked his socked feet up onto the coffee table. He turned on the tv and turned it to the true crime channel, quickly getting absorbed in what was on. An hour or so later when there was a knock at his door Connor just about jumped out of his skin. He collected himself and answered the door. He took the pizza and tanked the delivery person before heading back to the living room. He opened the box and set it on the coffee table beside his wine glass. He took a picture and sent it to Hank.

Connor: The right way to celebrate finals (almost) being over

He received a picture in return. It was of Hank’s coffee table, there was a half full whiskey glass and Chinese take out. Sumo was sprawled out in the background.

Hank <3: You’ve got the right idea Con

Connor: Glad we can agree

He moved to the floor in the space between the couch and the coffee table so he could use it as a dining table. He had a couple slices of pizza and finished his first glass of wine before he put the left overs away. He poured another glass of wine and made his way to the bathroom. He started the bath added bubbles and let the water run as he went to his room to get pyjamas. He texted Hank again before he got into the bath.

Connor: Now for the best part of the night. Relaxing with a glass of wine.

Hank <3: I’m more of a whiskey guy myself, but that sounds like a good plan.

Connor let out a content sigh as he sank into the water and relaxed into the warmth. He played music from his phone and stayed in the water until it went cold. He rinsed off and got ready for bed and texted Hank as he plugged his phone in for the night.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Sleep well Connor

Hank <3: We wouldn’t want North drawing on you again :)

Connor: No we would not

The next day he didn’t wake up until around noon, his body deciding to try and make up for all of his lost sleep in one go. He got up and got ready, taking what he would no longer need out of his backpack and heading for the cafe. Deciding to walk since it was nice out. While he was waiting to cross at a crosswalk he sent the screenshot of his test results to Josh.

What.Josh.Does: Nice! I got a 97%

What.Josh.Does: I’ll cover your first drink as promised

RunawayArkait: You’re the best

What.Josh.Does: You’re only saying that because I’m buying you a coffee

RunawayArkait: See you soon

He tucked his phone away and crossed the street and continued on his way to the cafe, He put his bag at his usual table and went to stand in line. Connor hadn’t been in line long when Hank’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Late start today Con?” Hank asked, the nickname he had given Connor rolled off his tongue like they had known each other for years. The dopey grin it caused to curl over Connor’s lips made him glad that Hank was behind him, “you’re usually passed out at your table by now.”

“That’s only happened like twice this week,” Connor argued, it was weak but it was all he had.

“Connor, its Wednesday,” Hank continued, “two out of three days this week you’ve been asleep at the table. A two-thirds average isn’t that great when you’re on the third day.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that today considering as I didn’t wake up until like noon.”

“So you finally made up for your lost sleep.”

“Apparently.” Connor said as he stepped up to the counter, “a large Iced Americano please.”

Josh put the order in and Connor walked to the end counter to wait. He was tempted to pull out his coin but the cafe was pretty busy today and the sound tended to annoy people. So he settled for signing the alphabet in reverse. This would be his last test for the semester, he’d had plenty of time to prepare and yet his anxiety was still eating at him. He finished one cycle of the alphabet and started over.

“So what are you doing with your hand?” Hank asked, scaring the life out of Connor who had retreated into his own thoughts.

“Signing the alphabet backwards.” Connor replied once he had collected himself.

“Why?”

“I need something to keep my hands busy when I’m anxious and I don’t want to annoy anyone with my quarter.”

“Test anxiety? Is that why you’ve been studying so hard?’

“Yeah. I want to do everything in my power to make sure I pass my exams.” His drink was called and he went up to the counter to grab it. He pointed to the table where his bag was and when Hank nodded Connor made his way over.

Connor took his seat and got out his sociology textbook and notes. By the time he had gotten his stuff out Hank was taking his usual seat across the table. He got out his laptop and they both got to work. They passed the time in busy pleasant silence until Hank asked him a question.

“So what do you do with your quarter that annoys people?” Hank asked as he looked up from his work.

“This.” He said as he pulled out the coin rolling it over his knuckles then flicking it up in the air, catching it in his other hand and then showed it off with a ‘tada’ motion.

“That’s a pretty neat trick.” Hank said with a half smile, “but i can see why you wouldn’t want to d it in a crowded place.”

“It annoys some people so I try to avoid doing it if I can.” He said, returning his attention to his notes.

The conversation fell away after that. Hank was the first to leave today, Sumo had a doctors appointment. They said their goodbyes and Connor got back to work. A few hours later when he was on his way to the university he sent Hank a text.

Connor: Last one. Wish me luck

Hank <3: You’ve got this Con, luck or no luck

Hank <3: But good luck

Connor: Thanks Hank. You’re the best

Hank <3: I try to be

Connor was smiling at his phone like a love struck idiot and it took all of his strength not to send a heart back. He didn’t want to make Hank uncomfortable. They were only friends and most friends didn’t do that. He set his phone in his lap and used his hands to cover his blush and matching dopey grin. He knew he had it bad. Going back over the texts, some of them sounded like flirting. Connor took a deep breath trying to collect himself, he needed to focus on his final for the time being.

He was somewhat back to himself when he got to the university. Once this test was done he had four days of what amounted to free time. Thursday, Friday, and Sunday were days he was going to use to study for his nurses exam and Saturday he was going to meet Sumo. Monday it was back to work as usual and then that Friday he was taking his nurses exam. Then it was back to business as usual until the fall semester started, He got out and made his way to building 1 for the last time this semester.

He made his way to the classroom as the previous class left. There wouldn’t be any last minute studying this time. He took his phone out of his pocket to double check that it was on silent then put it away. When the last of the students filed out Connor entered the class and took his usual seat.

Once it started, the testing block seemed to fly by. He finished with half an hour left. Surprisingly this test was the one he felt the most confidence for. When he got in a cab, he messaged Hank first.

Connor: I’m done!

Connor: My finals are finished!

Hank <3: Congratulations! For the next two weeks you’re free

Connor: I’m going home and taking a fucking nap

Hank <3: It’s well earned

Hank <3: Sleep well Con

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: I’m done

UnluckyNine: Congratulations

Sixty-Second-Set: Time to celebrate

RunawayArkait: Time to take a nap

UnluckyNine: That works too

Sixty-Second-Set: Boring

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: I’m free

SimonSays: Nice

What.Josh.Does: Good for you

Northern_Lights: Party time!

RunawayArkait: Sorry to disappoint, but I’ll be taking a nap

Northern_Lights: That’s boring

Connor rolled his eyes as he closed discord going back to his conversation with Hank.

Connor: Apparently I’m boring for wanting to sleep off my finals

Hank <3: They’re your tests. You get to pick how you celebrate

Connor: Exactly. So I’m going to make up for lost sleep

Hank <3: Sounds like a good plan to me

Connor: Thanks

The cab arrived at his apartment and he paid and got out. Exhaustion weighed down on him as he made his way up to his unit. He’d reheat a couple slices of pizza for dinner and then head to bed. He fumbled with his keys for a moment before getting his door unlocked

Once he was inside he dropped his bag by the door and kicked his shoes off. In the morning the mess would probably bother him, but he was tired now so that was future Connor’s problem. He opened the fridge and grabbed two slices of pizza and put them on a paper towel then in the microwave. Tonight was a lazy night. He changed into pyjamas and came back into the kitchen when the microwave went off. For the sake of convenience he ate over the kitchen sink. He rushed through his nightly routine, Before he climbed into bed he pugged in his phone and messaged Hank one last time.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Sleep well Connor

Thursday found him awake around eleven. Unlike yesterday there was no sleep hangover, for the first time in a long time he felt well rested. He spent the first part of the day cleaning his apartment and doing laundry. Giving his brain a break from the bookwork, which felt pretty nice.

Around three o’clock he made his way to the cafe. He stood in line and looked around. He found Hank at their usual table, he was absorbed in his work and had earbuds in. Since he had the time, he messaged him to see if he wanted anything.

Connor: I’m in line. Would you like anything

He scanned the menu deciding on a chai tea rather than coffee since he felt well rested for once. He looked down when his phone vibrated.

Hank <3: Fist of all, you scared the ever loving fuck outta 

Hank <3: My usual with two shots please

Connor: Got it :)

Connor: And sorry. I just thought I’d ask since I was up here

When it was his turn he noticed one of the new trainees, Echo, he believed, working the register while North worked the bar. He smiled at the blue haired woman, “Could I get a medium Chai Tea with cinnamon and nutmeg as well as a Vanilla Latte with two shots of espresso.”

She seemed to struggle with the first drink and North came to her aid, staying to help with the second and writing on the cups to make things easier. Connor always spoke his orders to the new hires since knowing how to sign wasn’t a requirement and he didn’t want to assume they knew it.  Shifts were designed so that at least one person who knew Sign Language was there. Once the drinks were up, he headed for the table.

He sat across from Hank in his usual seat and slid the cup across the table while Hank took out his earbuds, “so manuscript today or short stories?”

“Manuscript surprisingly enough.” Hank said before drinking from his latte and letting out a content hum, “what about you? What book are you rubbing your nose against today?”

“Today I’m going over the notes and study guide Markus gave me to make flashcards to go over on my breaks since I go back to work on Monday,” Connor said as he got out what he would need. Typed out notes, a hand written study guide, a stack of one thousand notecards, and a pencil pouch with that said ‘always look on the bright side’ on the front.

Hank gave an amused chuckle and shook his head, “I still think you should go over the definition of the word break Con.”

Connor drank from his chai tea to cover the involuntary grin that the nickname caused, “I’m taking an ‘actual’ day off on Saturday. Remember?”

Hank rolled his eyes but seemed to accept Connor’s flimsy argument. They lapsed into a companionable silence. Connor was working on his flashcards and Hank was working on his manuscript. Occasionally Connor would catch himself staring at Hank, but would look away before he got caught and forced himself get back to work. Until his luck ran out and Hank met his eyes cracking a smile that lead Connor to believe he hadn’t been nearly as stealthy as he had thought.

“See something you like Connor?” Hank joked, and it had to be a joke. Despite the way some of their messages read there was no way Hank would ever flirt with him. Connor turned into a tomato anyway.

“I was, um, I was just staring off into space...” he trailed off never having been all that great of a liar. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow them whole.

Hank didn’t look like he believed Connor but he didn’t comment on it. They went back to their easy silence until Hank had to leave.

“Sumo is getting groomed tomorrow, so I’m not gonna make it to the cafe,” Hank sounded almost upset that he was going to miss a day. Like he looked forward to these days too.

“That’s alright,” Connor said with a slight shrug, “we’ll see each other on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday then,” Hank responded with a half smile as he turned to leave.

Connor watched him go before getting back to his notecards. It took him a few hours and a couple cups of coffee to get them finished, and once he was done he headed home. He would probably stay home tomorrow too. Take a day to himself and mentally prepare for meeting Sumo and what that would bring.

He finished off the pizza and did the rest of his laundry. With his apartment mostly clean and his laundry done, Connor decided to call it a night. Once again messaging Hank before falling asleep.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Night Connor

Hank <3: Don’t work too hard tomorrow

Connor: No promises, but I’ll try my best

He spent most of Friday morning fretting over what to wear. Eventually deciding on a black short sleeve button down that was patterned with gradient grey roses, black jeans and grey converse. It wasn’t a date, but looking nice couldn’t hurt anything. He hung the outfit on his closet door and paced into his living room debating on if it would be better to message his brothers or his friends. Richard hadn’t dated anyone before so seeking him out for romantic advise probably wouldn’t be the wisest. Silas preferred a friends with benefits arrangement over dating so he wouldn’t be any help. North would just make fun of him. That left Josh, Simon, and Markus. Simon and Markus were dating so that would probably be the best bet.

RunawayArkait has started a group chat with Made-By_Markus and SimonSays!

RunawayArkait: I need help

RunawayArkait: What does one do on a not-date visit to their crush’s house to meet their dog

SimonSays: Send their kind and supportive friends pictures of said dog. Obviously

SimonSays: Keep a level head, but pay enough attention to see if he is flirting back

RunawayArkait: Flirting back? That implies that I flirt with him. Which I don’t!

Made-By_Markus: But you do. I’ve heard all about it from Simon

RunawayArkait: Rude!

Made-By_Markus: As cliche as it sounds, just be yourself

SimonSays: Relax. Like you said, it’s not a date

RunawayArkait: Thanks I guess

Made-By_Markus: Anytime. Also Simon, I’m in the lobby

SimonSays: Alright. I’ll be down soon

RunawayArkait: And that’s my cue to leave. Enjoy your date!

Made-By_Markus: Thanks

Connor groaned at the lack of help. Figuring he was stressing too much over something that was decidedly not a date, he decided to spend the rest of his Friday curled up on the couch catching up on all of the true crime shows he had missed on his study binge.

He woke up at eight in the morning on Saturday. He took his time getting ready and once he was satisfied with his appearance he left for the cafe at around eleven-thirty. He decided to walk so he could work off some of the anxiety that was thrumming beneath his skin. He debated cancelling several times, but eventually decided that he deserved to meet a new dog after having worked so hard to pass all of his finals. If it so happened that he was reading too far into this, which was incredibly likely, he would have at least gotten to see a new dog. He would be able to add a Saint Bernard to his mug which he would have to edit and then reorder. He won either way.

Connor arrived to find Hank waiting outside the cafe with one of the biggest and most fluffy dogs he had ever seen. Sumo sat neatly beside Hank looking to be very well trained, which was probably pretty helpful considering the dog’s size. He took a picture of Sumo with is phone before greeting Hank.

“You’re here early.” Connor said in way of a greeting and Hank turned to him with a smile.

“So are you Con,” he said, lifting his free hand in a lazy wave, “but that’s more expected of you than me.”

Connor laughed, “Yeah.”

Hank changed the subject, “So I didn’t find a no pets sign but I just wanted to check if Sumo would be allowed inside.”

“Unfortunately no. We do have a service animal policy tough.” Connor kept himself from gesturing at the door with his free hand by reaching it out toward Sumo so the large dog could sniff at it, “I can go inside and get the drinks then meet you back out here, since I’m covering drinks today anyway. Your usual?”

“Sounds good to me,” Hank said with a thankful smile. “I’ll let you know if we head back to the car.”

“Thanks/” Connor said as he headed inside.

The line was thankfully short and it didn’t take long to place their order. An iced Americano for Connor and a Vanilla Latte with two shots of espresso for Hank. When he exited the cafe, both Hank and Sumo were at the bench.

“Ready?” Hank asked as he got up, Sumo obediently following suit.

“Yup.” He handed the latte off as they walked to the car and Sumo happily snuffled at his free hand as they went.

When they got to the car Connor opened the back door on the passenger side so Hank could get Sumo in. With that taken care of, Connor got in on the passenger side, only to have Sumo lean forward and lick a stripe up his face when he turned to look in the back seat. Hank laughed at the sight.

“Hello to you too Sumo.” Connor said, using his jacket sleeve to wipe the drool off of his face then reaching back to pet him, “its nice to meet you.”

“What kind of dog do you think you’re gonna get once you graduate?” Hank asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to his house.

“Either an Australian Shepherd or a Golden Retriever,” Connor replied, “small enough to keep in an apartment but big enough to socially be considered a dog. I hope to be able to put them through search and rescue as well as service training.”

“Why am I not surprised you have all of this planned out.” Hank shook his head with a fond smile.

“I like being organized.”

“I can tell.”

Connor rolled his eyes, “What made you decide on a Saint Bernard?”

“I picked him up from a shelter a few years back.” He paused for a moment, seeming to consider his words, “my fiance and I had split and I didn’t want to be alone in the house. Took about a month to realize i was going to need a bigger yard and then we moved. Whoever had him first had already trained him which has made things a lot easier.” He looked in the rearview mirror at Sumo for a moment, “the big lug even knows a couple of hand signs.”

Hank had a fiance at one point, a few years back apparently. Connor wanted to ask about it, but the rapid change in topic made it clear that Hank didn’t want to, “Really? What commands does he know the signs for?”

“I’ll show you when we get to the house, how about that?” Hank suggested.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

As it turned out, Sumo knew the signs for sit, stay, laydown, and roll over. Connor spent the next few hours teaching him the sign commands for speak, play dead, shake hands, and high five. It didn’t go well, which was fine because hank seemed to get a kick out of it. Once he gave up and settled beside Hank on the couch they ordered take out and talked enjoying each other’s company. It was a few hours later, when they were getting ready to leave that Hank asked him a favor.

“So I kind of had an ulterior motive for asking you over today,” Hank started with a tentative smile. “There’s a writers’ conference next weekend, I was wondering if you would mind stopping by to check on Sumo while I’m away since he seems to like you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Connor said as he headed for the door. “He’s well behaved and a sweetheart.”

“Thank you so much.” Hank sounded genuinely relieved. He opened the front door and called over his shoulder to Sumo, “I’ll be back soon. Be good while I take Connor home.”

“I’ll see you next weekend,” Connor called to the dog as he left.

The ride to Connor’s apartment was filled with idle chatter, broken up occasionally by Connor giving Hank directions. It was nice, and his anxiety over today seemed distant and unnecessary. Today had been easy and comfortable. They arrived at his complex about twenty minutes later and Connor wasn’t ready to be done yet.

“Uh, today was nice,” Connor said eloquently. He was pretty sure he couldn’t have been more awkward if he tried.

“Yeah, it was,” Hank said seeming just as nervous, “um, if you want to come by again just let me know I guess.”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks then.” Hank unlocked the door as Connor reached for the handle, “I’ll um, I’ll watch Sumo whenever you need me to.”

“Thanks Con,” he said as Connor opened the door and got out, “have a good night.”

“You too Hank.” Connor gave him a slight wave before he shut the car door and went inside the complex. He had been so awkward. Hank definitely know now and he was probably uncomfortable.

Connor let out a frustrated groan once he was in his apartment. He made himself a cup of tea to help wind down before bed. The best thing he could do would be to act like nothing had changed and maybe they could still be friends. He sighed and finished his tea and got ready for bed. He texted Hank as usual before calling it a night.

Connor: Thanks for today Hank. It was a lot of fun

Connor: Good night

Hank <3: I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Sleep well Con

Connor smiled at his phone before setting it aside and falling asleep. As long as he could keep his feeling tucked away, things would be fine. 

Sunday went by in a blur of studying and self pity. He answered messages as they came, trying to make it seem like things were normal. Like he hadn’t potentially fucked everything up. He was thankful he had today to wallow because come tomorrow he had to be a functioning human being. When he was getting ready for bed, he checked the messages from Hank like he hadn’t been avoiding him all day.

Hank <3: Are you coming to the cafe today?

Hank <3: Is everything alright?

Hank <3: Connor?

Connor: Sorry

Connor: My exhaustion from the week came back with a vengeance

Connor: I didn’t mean to worry you

Hank <3: It’s alright

Hank <3: I’m just glad to see that you’re okay

Connor: I’m going to call it a night

Hank <3: Sleep well

Connor: Thank you

Guilt clung to Connor as he drifted off making his sleep uneasy and restless. He didn’t mean to make Hank worry he just hadn’t known how to face him. When morning rolled around he was exhausted. He went through his morning routine on autopilot. He made coffee and poured it into his travel mug before walking to work. He was almost late, but made up for it by working part of the lunch rush. He didn’t see Hank before he clocked out for the day. He walked back home and took some time to himself before studying. 

The rest of the week went similarly. His texts to Hank throughout the day and before bed became the parts of his routine he looked forward to the most. he had Friday off so he could take his nurses exam. Connor didn’t feel like he would be ready, but this was all the time he was going to get. He would deal with it come Friday.

He woke up early on Friday and spent his morning studying. He left for the university around two and messaged Hank first when he got in the cab.

Connor: On my way to the exam

Hank <3: Good luck

Hank <3: Let me know how it goes

Connor: Will do :)

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Time for the exam

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ve got this

UnluckyNine; You’re more than ready

-

The Coffee Crew

RunawayArkait: Exam day

Northern_Lights: Bet you’ll be in the top half of the class

Echo-Over-The-Water: Good luck Connor!

SimonSays: You’ll do great

What.Josh.Does: Here comes the cafe’s second nursing student

Connor put his [hone on silent and spent the rest of the cab ride going over his notecards. Markus had given him a general idea of what the test would cover, though the specific questions were changed every testing period. The test was a mix of essay, short answer, and multiple choice questions. They would have three hours to finish. Connor wasn’t exactly confident that he would pass, but he was fairly certain he would finish before the testing period ended. The results would be posted on Monday and he would have time to register for the recommended classes and buy books after that. Not to mention a whole weekend with Sumo to help with his worry.

He took his time on the exam, and then more time to go back over and correct some of his answers. He turned in the exam with fifteen minutes left in the period. He ordered a cab and messaged Hank, knowing that the other was on a flight and he wouldn’t get a reply.

Connor: Finished my exam and I’m feeling pretty good about it

Connor: I’ll swing by in a couple hours to check on Sumo and send pictures

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: It’s done

UnluckyNine: Congrats

Sixty-Second-Set: Look at you go Mr. Nurse

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Finished!

RunawayArkait: I’m gonna be gone for the weekend

SimonSays: Give Sumo lots of love for us!

Echo-Over-The-Water: Congratulations!

Northern_Lights: You did it

What.Josh.Does: Enjoy your weekend

When he got to his apartment he set his bag on the couch and set an alarm on his phone for three hours from now and laid down for a nap. When he woke up he would pack for his weekend with Sumo.

[captainseaweedbrains]

Ship: Everlark #48

Thank you so much for sending me a prompt! I hope you enjoy! As always, drabbles don’t exist in my world. So it’s a bit longer than I anticipated. :P 

Prompt: Meeting again at a high school reunion AU

Ao3: X

Send me a ship and a prompt and I’ll write a fic/drabble!

“If you don’t go over there and talk to him, I’m going to and you know I won’t edit out any embarrassing details,” Madge warned when she saw Katniss looking over at the Welcome table yet again. 

Katniss scowled, the alcohol clearly not kicking in yet. “I don’t need your help, Madge.” 

“You’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, Katniss,” her friend pointed out, “watching that table like a scared hawk.” 

“Can a hawk be scared?” Madge glared at her and she conceded. “All right, all right. Yes, I am acting like a scared, made-up hawk, but I can’t help it! I made a total ass of myself back in high school. I’m afraid he’ll remember.” 

“Of course he’ll remember.” 

“You’re no help. Why’d I bring you as my date again?” 

Her friend smiled a winning smile and rubbed her swollen stomach. “Because my dearest husband decided a fishing trip with his brothers was more important than coming with me to our ten year high school reunion and he bribed you with anything you wanted from his store as thanks.”

“Right, right,” she laughed. “So why are you trying to pawn your date off on some stranger, Madge Hawthorne?” 

“Please!” Madge scoffed. “Peeta Mellark is so not a stranger to you. How many times did you two hook up in high school? In the band room, under the stage in the auditorium, the Home Ec room, and correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you two do it in Abernathy’s office?” 

Popping the maraschino cherry from her drink into her mouth, Katniss smiled. “I’m not confirming, nor denying, anything of the sort. We were total saints in high school.” 

“Uh huh.” Madge sighed and readjusted herself in her seat. “If you were total saints, why not go over and talk about your sainthood with Peeta, then?” 

Because she had broken his heart? Because 18-year-old Katniss panicked and ruined a great thing? Because she knew for a fact, thanks to Facebook and small town busybodies, that Peeta had just gotten out of an engagement with some gorgeous blonde who looked like a model and showing up now felt like cutting open an old scar? Because she was scared of telling him how she really felt then? And how those feelings haven’t really gone away and seeing him there, smiling and laughing next to Delly Cartwright as they welcomed old classmates, reminded her those feelings were definitely still there?

“Because he’s busy working the Welcome table,” she said instead. “Don’t you hate when people chit chat you up while you’re trying to work a table?” 

“No, but that’s because I’m not weird about people like you are.” 

“I miss the shy, barely-spoke Madge from high school,” Katniss teased, bumping her foot against Madge’s. “What happened to her?” 

“I joined a sorority in college and had to do three years of recruitment,” was all she said, still giving Katniss a pointed look. “Go talk to him, Katniss. Rip the band aid off.” 

She looked over at the table and frowned. “What if he tells me off? I don’t think I can handle that kind of rejection.” 

“He won’t,” Madge comforted, resting a hand on Katniss’ knee. “But you won’t know until you go over and say hello. Here,” she tore off her name tag and ripped it in half, handing the two pieces over to Katniss. “Ask for a new name tag for me as your excuse to talk to him.” 

She gratefully took the stickers and stood up, glancing over at the table. Two people were in line, the first person animatedly talking to both Peeta and Delly she didn’t recognize from behind. Yes, she can do this. With one long shot of her drink, she went and stood in line, Madge giving a whoop of cheer in support. 

The wait wasn’t long. Five minutes tops before she was walking up to the table, the two pale blondes smiling up at her, reminding her of all those times in high school they’d be managing the ticket table at lunch for Student Council or the ticket booth for football and basketball games. 

“Katniss Everdeen!” Delly welcomed in her high-pitched squeaky voice that hasn’t changed a bit in ten years. “I thought I saw you around! You silly goose, how are you? What have you been up to? How has life been treating you? How is that lovely sister of yours?”

“Delly,” Katniss smiled. Even now, after all these years, it was hard not to reciprocate the woman’s warmth and energy. “Life’s been good, thanks. Can’t complain. Still living at home with my mom and sister. Prim’s fine. Going to school to be a doctor.”

“That’s amazing! And you’re a teacher now, I hear, right?” 

“Um—yes, I am.” Her eyes shifted to Peeta, who was all smiles as well, before focusing back on Delly. “I’m a high school choral director at the high school next town over.” 

“You did always have a beautiful voice,” Peeta stepped in and her legs almost turned to jello at the sound of his familiar yet somewhat deeper voice. “Inspiring students to find their voices.” Ever the wordsman, Peeta Mellark was. 

“Yes,” she blushed, unable to help herself. “Um. That’s a really nice way of saying I spend half my time telling my classes to quiet down so we can get some work done.” They laughed and that helped calm some of her anxiety. “How are you both? I haven’t seen either of you since we all left for college!” 

Delly answered first. “I’m a proud Stay-at-Home-Mom—” 

“Don’t get her started on her triplets or else we’ll be here all night,” Peeta teased, happily accepting Delly’s shove. 

“Wow,” Katniss breathed. “Triplets. That’s—that’s a lot of babies!” 

“That’s what Thom says—you remember Thom, right, Katniss? We all had gym together in eleventh grade. Well, he’s my amazing husband now and he’s always joking how we nailed it out of the park on the first try.” She held out her phone to show a picture of three chubby toddlers, two girls and a boy, smiling cheekily at the camera in nothing but their diapers. “Gretchen, Analise, and Tommy,” Delly explained, pointing to each happy baby. “They just turned three last month and boy, are they keeping me busy!” 

Katniss nodded. “They look adorable, Delly. Look just like you.” 

“Thank you. That’s what everyone says.” She put her phone away. “Anyone in your life, Katniss?” 

“Oh, um. No.” She looked down at the stickers in her hand, realizing she didn’t need it now with Delly talking a mile a minute. “Work keeps me pretty busy and most guys don’t understand why I prioritize a bunch of high schoolers over—well, everything.” She laughed, feeling a bit awkward now talking about her non-existent love life. 

Delly looked over at Peeta, a knowing look in her eyes. “Peeta knows exactly how that is.” 

“Delly,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “I’m a high school art teacher,” he explained to Katniss. “And I run the school’s debate and speech teams for some extra money. So I get prioritizing your students over everything else.” 

Oh. She didn’t know he was a teacher, too. Well that made a lot of sense why it was a pain hunting him down on Facebook. How had she not put two and two together? “Elective teachers unite,” she joked half-heartedly, feeling nervous again now that the attention was on him. 

“May our program budgets always just barely make the cut,” he joined in, all smiles. She smiled back, unable to help herself. His smiles, familiar despite time away, always made her feel more at ease. 

“You know, ever since I had the triplets, my bladder has never been the same,” Delly abruptly said standing up. “I have to visit the potty. The bathroom,” she corrected herself. “We’re working on potty training right now. Peeta, guard the table while I’m away?” 

“Oh. Uh, sure thing, Dells.” 

“You keep a close eye on him, Katniss. Make sure he doesn’t cause any mischief,” Delly warned with a wag of her finger before walking away, waving to those she knew as she went, which seemed to be everyone.

Katniss stood there for a moment, forlornly watching their buffer leave. She barely knew Delly, but now as the curly-haired blonde left, she felt a bit of a betrayal of being left alone with Peeta. 

“You don’t have to watch over me,” Peeta said, her attention snapping back to him. “Delly was just teasing.” 

“Oh no, it’s okay.” It wasn’t, not really, but admitting that would make things ten times more awkward. “Madge is my supposed date tonight, but she’s been spending more time in the bathroom than with me. So it’s fine. Um.” Just get it over with! “How are you, Peeta?” 

“I’m fine, Katniss. Thank you for asking.” 

“Of course, of course.” Wishing she’d consumed more alcohol before pursuing this quest, she went forth, “I heard you moved back into town. With your brother?” 

He shook his head. “I forgot how small this town is. Yeah. I moved back. Go on and ask.” He motioned at her, rolling his eyes. “About my engagement. Everyone’s been asking about it.” 

Katniss winced. “I didn’t want to pry, but yeah, I heard.” 

“As did many others.” He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m fine, really. I broke it off with her, actually. Wasn’t a right fit,” he explained. “I didn’t think it fair to either of us to continue further, but it still hurts a little.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Peeta.” But was she really, though? Was she seriously happy about a guy she hadn’t spoken to in over ten years being single again? God, she was a horrible person. “But it sounds like you did the mature thing. Breaking it off like that.” 

He shrugged. “That’s what everybody tells me.” 

Someone came up behind her and she stepped aside as Peeta snapped into greetings mode. It was amazing watching him change so swiftly like that. Some people truly never changed, she realized, remembering how quickly he seemed to change moods at the flip of a switch. He did it the day she broke things off with him. How his eyes cascaded down in disappointment and she’d wondered if he might cry after confessing how he felt about her for all this time, but then someone had walked in, calling out to them, and he became all smiles and acted like nothing drastic had happened between them.

It was a bit unsettling, the more she thought about it now. 

The line of late comers started growing and Delly still hadn’t returned. Deciding to keep her promise, Katniss took a seat next to Peeta and smiled as another former classmate stepped up, ignoring the quizzical look he sent her as they were asked questions about times for the planned events and how they both were doing. Many assumed they were married now, remembering how close the two were in high school, and thank god for Peeta stepping in and saving her stumbling tongue, explaining how Katniss was just keeping Delly’s seat warm until she returned and that they hadn’t seen each other until tonight. 

After the third or fourth classmate assumed their matrimonial union, Katniss laughed, picking at the ripped sticker she’d stuck to her skirt for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize so many people remembered us together.” 

“Small town school,” he reminded her, his tone light and joking. Like she didn’t stupidly break his heart. “I’m not surprised they remembered you. You forget how much of an effect you have on people, Katniss.” 

Her cheeks warmed. “I think you mean yourself there, Mr. Popular. I was that awkward band and choir girl with the braces who never shut up about why the Baroque style was far superior to Classical.” 

“I remember those rants fondly,” Peeta laughed. “Your face would get all pinched because I barely knew what you were talking about, so I couldn’t offer any opinion. And I loved those braces! The silver brackets really brought out the silver in your eyes.” 

She rolled her eyes, remembering that line he used to pull every time she complained about her teeth. “Well I’m happy to say those days are gone. I’ve been metal-free since college.” 

“Took that long, huh?” 

“I’m pretty sure my orthodontist was just milking it for my money those last three years,” she laughed. “My teeth looked pretty straight to me.” Katniss smiled widely, showing off her white, straight teeth she suffered many mouth cuts and rubber band snaps to achieve. He joined her and wow. It really did feel like no time had passed between them. Like they were just a couple of teens back in high school, making fun of a teacher or a douchey classmate. 

Peeta looked down at the table, tapping his pen in thought. “You know,” he said after a moment, still looking down, “I am free from this table at 7.”

“That makes sense,” she nodded. “If people haven’t arrived in the first hour and a half, that’s their loss.”

“It is,” he smiled, glancing up at her. Yes, his eyes were still as clear blue as she remembered, and was it possible for eyelashes to grow? His looked longer now. “If you’d be fine with it, Katniss, I’d like to catch up with you some more.” Was it her imagination or did he seem nervous? That made no sense. She broke his heart. If anyone should be nervous, it was her. And she was. The constant flutter in her stomach more noticeable now with her sitting so close to him. 

“Oh. Um.” It was her turn to look down at her hands. “Okay. Sure. Yeah, that’d be great.” 

Peeta seemed uncertain, though. “Are you sure? Was I too forward just now? Sorry, ever since my break-up, I seem to be a bit rusty talking with people.” That was hard to believe. 

“No, no!” Katniss rushed to assure him. “I just—didn’t think you’d really want to catch up after how we ended things.” There. She mentioned it. Old heartbreak was out there now. “I know I messed things up pretty badly.” 

To her surprise, Peeta laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me, that is water under the bridge, Katniss. I was stupid and should have picked up on the vibes you were sending me.” 

“And I was stupid, too,” she said, a bit shyly. 

“High schoolers can be pretty stupid.” 

“I don’t know,” she smiled. “Mine seem a lot smarter than when we were that age.” 

“Mine too.” He pretended to think. “Perhaps we were just idiots and it has nothing to do with how young we were.” 

She laughed. “Maybe.” 

He tapped her pen with his. “To being idiots?” 

“To being idiots.” She tapped his pen back. 

And at 7 o’clock sharp, Peeta declared it was time they drank until they got so drunk, it was like they were back at Finnick Odair’s Friday night after-game parties. Katniss happily agreed, sternly reminding him she wasn’t going to make out with him tonight like they used to do in the toolshed during those parties, causing him to burst out laughing. Quickly scrawling out Madge’s name on a new sticker, she told Peeta she’d meet him at the bar. 

“I have to give my date her sticker.” He told her the booze waited for no one and headed to where a group of their classmates were chanting for someone to “Chug! Chug! Chug!” She smiled and went back to Madge, who was chatting with Leevy Anderson, an old friend of hers. 

“Well,” Madge asked after Leevy excused herself. “You were gone an awful long time. Did you get my sticker?” Katniss handed it to her with a smile. “I take it things went well? Or were you just sputtering out nonsense.” 

“It went very well,” Katniss told her, glancing over at the bar where Peeta stood, holding two drinks out, one clearly being hers. “We’re going to get crazy drunk now because this night has been extremely long for both of us. I hope you’re fine driving me?” 

“One of us needs to get crazy drunk tonight,” Madge laughed, patting her stomach. “Drink for me, too?” 

“Of course.” 

“Going to make out with Peeta Mellark like old times?” her friend teased, noticing Peeta now. “I’m sure there’s a closet you two can sneak into.” 

Katniss scoffed at her friend’s blatant assumption. “No, we’re not making out tonight, Madge.” Madge nodded, taking a sip of her pop. “We might next Friday, though,” she added a bit coyly. “He’s taking me out to dinner.” And she walked away before her friend could say anything further.