#idek why i was shouting but it works

[thegizmos]

WE WANT MORE FRANKIE MUSIC CONTENT! (p.s. the way you shout is drunkcore vibes)

fucking DRUNKCORE VIBES. i need that on a t-shirt.

[headbandsandflats]

i got a really nice review at work this week (my first review cycle since i started, just over a year ago) and i’ve been struggling a bit with how much it meant to me, and why it meant so much to me, and wishing it didn’t matter quite so much to me. part of it is just that i’m not at - and will never be at - the place i expected myself to end up. i assumed that i’d either be working in the arts or that i’d reach a specific level of education but due to a mix of factors - debt, the economy when i graduated (let’s hear it for those of us in college during the 2008 recession!), overall burnout, etc. - i tapped out after getting my bachelor’s degree. and bc of that, and the field i work in, i’m limited in how high i can advance.

and so i feel lame not just for caring so much about basically getting graded at work (was i a kid who was excited to get my report card, and carefully read the comments ...who’s to say) but specifically about being graded at something that sometimes feels like almost anyone could do it. but i cared. a lot. more than i expected to. i’m working, while not at a dream job, at what’s pretty close to a dream company for me. i work for a woman i like and respect, in what has traditionally been a male-dominated field, and for the team below her, all of whom are pretty great. and i got really lovely feedback from all of them.

and i think part of the swirl of emotions stems from how nervous i was to take this job. i’ve really struggled with my mental health and some pretty severe blows to my confidence (which was not stellar to begin with!) over the last several years, and even though i was unhappy in my last position it felt so much easier and safer to just stay. i felt incapable of shifting to anything new - just getting out of bed to go to a job i already knew was almost impossibly hard some days - and was fairly certain i wouldn’t last a month. so to wrap up my first year with a review where the only negative comment was that i should be more confident in my abilities, trust more in how good i am and how much i know - to leave our meeting with the knowledge that my boss pushed for me to get a higher than average bonus to compensate my work product over the year and the team’s appreciation of me - felt more meaningful than i was/am comfortable with.

(then i called my mom to talk about it, like a real loser. aside from that call - which i was of course then embarrassed by bc hot girls spiral - i haven’t really processed the layers of my feelings about it, which is why the word vomit here. you’re welcome & ty.)

[harveysweakness]

can you do a harvey x reader where he asks her for help with a client and in doing so she gets hurt. she tries to keep it from him but she never shows up to talk to him. idek if this makes sense but thank you ❤️❤️

WARNING: BRUISING, BLOOD, DISCUSSION OF MAN HURTING WOMAN

A/N: I have them just flirty and not yet dating in this fic! Also, there will be a part two because we all deserve to see y/n and Harvey more

“What can I do for you, Harvey?” You asked, heels clicking perfectly with the floor as you strut into his office.

“Joshua Hendricks, you know him?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“You mean the most powerful man in the health technology industry, and one of our biggest clients?” You questioned, though you were only stating facts.

“I need you to persuade him to do something,” Harvey said, eyeing you up and down in your tight, yet professional, dress.

“Persuade how?”

————-

Harvey glanced down at his watch, a frown taking over. It was fifteen past eight, and while you were known to occasionally be five minutes late, this simply wasn't you, and Harvey knew it.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly clicked your name and waited for your familiar voice. It never came. His jaw tightened while he switched gears.

"Donna, do you know if Y/N ever left from the office to come to dinner?"

"She never came back after that client meeting."

He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. He'd asked you to see this client because you were beautiful, a senior partner, and had the willingness to sway a client with flirtation- something he hated as much as he loved. And he was beyond worried that you'd had a little...too much fun with the client.

Shaking his head, he stood and left the restaurant, heading back to the office. He needed something else to occupy his head.

Getting off of the elevator and heading down the darkened hallway, he sighed. Harvey always felt better working after hours with less people to bother him. His office always seemed more welcoming, more serene in the night. Walking in, he turned towards his records on the shelf, heart dropping at the sight.

"Oh my god," he blurted, seeing you sitting on his couch, holding your bruised wrist, a bit of blood on your arms. "What happened?"

"Harvey-"

"Who did this to you?"

"Harvey-"

"I swear, when I find him-"

"Harvey!" you shouted, effectively quieting him. As soon as he met your gaze, you burst into tears.

"Hey, Y/N," he murmured, moving quickly to sit on the table in front of you, taking a deep breath in and out before continuing, "Let me see."

Trying to calm your breathing, you held out your hands to him, letting him get a close look at the bruises encircling your wrist and the scrapes on your other. His jaw was set in a firm line and you could tell he was getting angrier by the second.

"What else hurts?"

You took a shaky breath before pulling the top of your dress slightly to the side, showing a few darkening bruises forming near your collarbone.

"Who? It was Joshua, wasn't it." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation, one you confirmed with fresh tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harvey whispered, his eyes filling with unshed tears. You shook your head.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I asked you to go, he never would have- I'm so sorry, Y/N." He gently brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard you tried, and Harvey just leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

How long you stayed like that, you didn’t know. But you finally sat up, wiping at your tears before accepting the tissue Harvey offered.

“Can I help clean you up?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s dried, it’ll wash off in the shower.”

He didn’t quite know what to say, so he stood and went over to grab you a glass of water.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit on the defensive and I don’t know why,” you admitted.

“I would be surprised if you weren’t on the defensive.”

It was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. “What do you want to do?”

“If we lose this client, the firm loses a lot.”

“I don’t give a damn about the firm.”

“Harvey, you and I both know that’s not true. You’re angry, so am I, but-“

“He can’t get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

You both turned towards the door to see Jessica in the doorway, her bags and coat in hand. As soon as she got a good look at you, her face softened, she set her things down, and moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Tell me what happened.”

Your eyes flickered to Harvey before settling back to meet her gaze. “The client, Joshua Hendricks, he thought he could get the case settled. I went to speak to him about making a statement and he didn’t like the idea very much.”

“He is no longer our client,” Jessica said simply.

“He brings in nearly a million dollars per week for us,” you responded.

“I don’t care. I will give him a call in the morning.”

“No,” Harvey interrupted. “Let me.”

Jessica looked at him, not even a hint of hesitation on her face while she nodded. “Take care of him.”

You both watched her go.

“What are you going to do to him?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Harvey answered honestly.

“I should go.”

“Let me take you. Please, Y/N.”

You were much too tired and hurt to argue. “Okay.”

———

You’d only been in Harvey’s apartment once before, when you had previously dropped off files while he was working from home after breaking his leg.

He gestured toward one of the counterstools. You took a seat, nodding to his quick ‘Be right back.’

When he came back a moment later with a first aid kit, you tilted your head. “I told you-“

“Please. Just let me take care of you.”

You nodded, feeling more vulnerable than you had in a while. Flirting with Harvey, teasing him- that was one thing. But sitting in front of him, in his apartment, while he cleaned the blood off of you and held ice packs to your wrist- that felt intimate.

He must have felt the same, because you could practically feel the emotions rolling off of him. He wouldn’t say anything, you both knew that, but you could tell he cared. You hadn’t missed the fear in his expression when he saw you sitting hurt on his office couch.

The two of you didn’t exchange a word while he took care of your bruises and blood.

“Keep the ice on,” he murmured, packing up the first aid kid and setting it back on the counter. “Drink?”

“Please. Something strong.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. After he poured you a generous cup of scotch, he handed the glass to you, eyes focused once more on your bruises.

"I'm fine."

He just continued to stare, his jaw set once again.

"Thank you."

That caused him to soften.

"No one's ever-" you paused, gesturing towards the first aid kit- "done this for me before."

"I'm glad I could," he responded, before his brow furrowed. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I knew you'd be back at the office after I missed our dinner."

"How could you have possibly known that?"

"Because I know you, Harvey," you said gently. It was easier saying that, than saying you knew skipping dinner with him would hurt him.

"You know I know you too."

You tilted your head, eyebrows raised.

"The baths filling right now with warm water, with eucalyptus salts and bubbles."

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, Y/N." He'd moved closer, his knee touching yours where you still sat. You seemed to lose yourself in his eyes, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn't even realized he was closer until his lips were mere centimeters from yours.

"You can stop me, if you want," he whispered. He was being a gentleman, giving you an out. He wouldn't do it unless you specifically gave permission.

You didn't say anything, instead leaning forward to close the gap.

[moonlightspencie]

ahh hi, i just read through your master list youre so talented!

wondering if dean winchester and enemies to lovers? with angst but also a happy ending but also like shouting confessions and stuff but also like dean is like patching up reader or maybe not shouting but like stuff? protective? abuhwfc idek what im saying but yes tysm <3 have a good day

awww thanks so much! this was fun to write, i looooove writing dean

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of injuries!

——————————

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean snapped at you for the fifth time since you’d gotten in the car with him.

You huffed a sigh, still holding onto your leg in what was most definitely not a small amount of pain.

“I get it, Winchester, you’re pissed. Are you done bitching at me yet?”

“No, I’m not!” He let out a breath in annoyance, glancing sideways at you as he drove. “Running in without me was… was freaking stupid. You could’ve gotten killed.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could have, damn it! I should’ve never agreed to bring you along.”

“I got the job done.”

“Barely.”

“Screw you.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, his chest heaving in anger as he glared at you again. He decided on a simple shake of the head as he tore through town to get to the motel.

As soon as he pulled in, he practically dragged you out of the car, carrying you into his room and setting you on the bed. You winced.

“Watch it. Kind of got a bullet wound here.”

You half expected Dean to snap something snarky back at you, but all he did was glance at you with his brows furrowed as he hurried around the room.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m trying to get said bullet out of that hole in your leg.”

You sighed softly, then started trying to gingerly pull your jeans off without further irritating your thigh.

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath.

Dean turned quickly at that. “What?”

You merely shook your head, continuing to try and pull off your pants.

“Usually someone will at least try to flirt before they strip for me.”

“Shut up,” you grumble back, trying to hide a small smile.

He sat on the bed next to you, setting down his first aid supplies to help you get your pants the rest of the way off.

“Usually a guy will at least buy me dinner before taking off my pants,” you quip back at him.

“Shut up,” he smirked a little. Then he cleared his face. “You’re an idiot. You could’ve been killed tonight.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’m serious,” he said, finally freeing you from your jeans with minimal jostling. “You acted like… like…”

“Yeah, yeah. I was stupid. I get it.”

He huffed again, shaking his head as he started prodding softly at your leg.

“Ouch,” you muttered softly, face scrunched in pain.

“I know. Sorry.”

“S’fine. Just pull it out.”

“I’ve been known to be pretty good at that,” he said noncommittally, slowly pulling the bullet out with a pair of thin tweezers.

You winced softly, but stayed mostly quiet as he worked.

“Attagirl,” he patted your knee gently. “Alright, we’re gonna have to stitch this up.”

“Damn it,” you groan, head falling back against his pillow.

“That’s why you don’t run off without me.”

“Shut it.”

“Just saying.”

“Well, don’t. I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

He snorted once, a tiny smirk on his face. You frowned, looking at him.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You sound like Bobby sometimes. I always forget you lived with him for a couple years as a kid.”

You hummed once. “Yeah. He acted like he hated it, but he was a pretty great foster dad for the time.”

“He was a great… well, everything.” He cleaned around the wound, handing you a bottle of some dark colored liquor. “Drink.”

You complied immediately, knowing you’d need a little something to take the edge off that inevitable pain. He took the bottle back, pouring a little on the wound to make sure it was sterilized on the outside.

“Ow!”

“It’s only gonna get worse.”

You scoff. “Not exactly comforting, Dean.”

“Not meant to be.”

You braced yourself as he started stitching you up, trying to focus on literally anything else until he finally finished. You let out a heavy breath.

“Good. You’re fine, see?” Dean said, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, opening your eyes and glancing at your leg. It wasn’t half bad for some hunter stitches. You’d definitely had worse. You nodded a little at his work.

“Yeah. Good.”

“Good,” he repeated again, then placed the bandage on it. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“I know.”

He looked at you for a moment. “I’m serious. I wish I hadn’t brought you.”

“I get it. But…”

“No buts about it. If we ever work together on anything again, and I mean ever, you’ll do as I say. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You’re not my dad or my boyfriend, and even if you were, I still wouldn’t take orders from you. Get a grip.”

“You almost got killed,” he repeated.

“I heard that the first fifty times, Winchester. But you almost get— you know what? No. You have gotten killed. More than once! You can’t say that shit to me!”

“I—” he started, but obviously didn’t really know what to say to that. He hummed once in thought. “Well… well, that’s different.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I don’t have to deal with losing me if I get killed!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I just… it’s different. If it’s you, then,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “If it’s you, or if it’s Sam, or anyone else, I’m left here to know that it’s probably my fault it happened. I have to deal with it if you die and I can’t deal with it!”

“Oh, come on, you’ve always hated me. You’d live.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You think I’m annoying at the very least!”

“Yeah, cause you are! But I don’t want you to die!”

“How sweet,” you deadpan.

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. I don’t… I couldn’t…”

“What?”

“I like you! Alright?! Is that what you want to hear?”

“No you don’t. You hardly tolerate me.”

“Because you’re too damn independent and it freaks me the hell out!” he snaps again. “I don’t want to like you because that means I’ll fall for you and that means if you die, I’ll… I’ll…”

You groan in irritation.

“Cut it out. I’m trying to tell you I want you!”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“I want you! Always have! You got any clue how many times Bobby smacked me when he caught me checking you out?”

You stared at him for a moment in shock, then burst out laughing. He scrunched up his face in confusion, staring at you. He swallowed.

“Quit— quit laughing.”

“You’re serious?!”

“Yes, I’m serious. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You laughed again. “Oh my god! You’re being a bitch because you have a crush on me? What, are you 13?”

He rolled his eyes. “This is why I can’t stand you.”

“Apparently you can’t stand me because you like me too much,” you laugh.

“You— You know…” he tried, but was obviously too flustered to speak properly.

He ran through options in his head, but one sounded way more fun than the others. He suddenly leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. That shut you up quick.

“Mm,” you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back.

He could be a douche, but he was also super hot. Not to mention, he was a total sweetheart when he wasn’t determined to be an asshole. Like now. He pulled away, breathing heavier.

“Don’t laugh at me again. It’s mean,” he muttered softly.

“Don’t confess to a little crush like that again and I won’t. Next time you wanna confess, just kiss me instead. Much more effective.”

“Will do,” he breathed out, leaning in again.

[bebe-writes-stuff]

Hey lovely!! I love your work and I was wondering if you can do a baji x reader smut with like a friends to lovers where he gets jealous when one of his friends make a move on you as a joke but he can’t take it seeing y/n all happy’ with a. Anna that’s not him and can u please include where someone walks in on them at the end and he says something about how they became a couple like someone walks in and he he’s like “ can you ye out I’m trying to help my girlfriend clean up!” I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH I have read so much of ur stuff BbBbdbdbbdbd

Ima be honest, I wrote this when I was high so like, idek if this makes sense

Jealous! Baji x Reader (Smut)

Annoyed by your lack of attention, he huffed and puffed, and you still didn't say anything,

"What are you even reading that you are so invested in?" He muttered glancing at your book before pouting and setting his eyes aside.

"Huh, you don't know?" You turned to him and showed him your book cover.

Romeo and Juliet

"Ew, what the hell. Who the hell even reads that in their free time." He cringed at your sappy choice of book taste.

"Shut up will you, it's for the Drama Club. It's the annual play, other schools come and parents also come. I auditioned for fun, but I got the main role, Juliet." You explained, before someone abruptly opened the empty classroom door, it was lunch time.

"Woah, Y/n, did you actually join the annual play?!" It was Chifuyu, he was breathing and seemed...flustered.

"Oh, yeah. how'd you know?" You asked, tilting your head a little worried.

"The flyers are literally being passed out everywhere, look!" He unrolled the flyer and then slammed it on one of the desks.

You took a peek before,

"Woah.."

"Huh?-"

It was you and Ryusei Satou on the cover. You had a dagger in your hand aimed high at yourself as you knelt on your dead lover's body, Ryusei was lying on the floor with poison that fell in drops from his mouth, the tragic fate of Romeo and Juliet. On the cover, you looked just so beautiful, you looked alluring. Your eyes were magnetic, drawing people in with a combination of elegance and genuine warmth. Baji understood why you would be Juliet, no one fit better, you were beautiful both in and out, gentle, graceful, oh he could go on and on about you. He never liked to admit it, he loved you too much. But why was that asshole Ryusei, Romeo, he thought angrily.

The next couple of weeks, Baji has barely seen you. So imagine how he felt when he heard that the entire time you were with Ryusei practicing for the upcoming play. Almost as if you cheated on him, not like you were dating anyway. He didn't mean to stop, he really didn't. But when he heard your voice from outside the theater room, he stopped to listen. Even your voice made him flushed and nervous. However, he froze when he peeked in and saw how Ryusei had you in his arms as he performed dramatically. You were smiling and laughing even. You looked so happy with another guy, it broke his heart. He felt like punching him, or anyone at this point. It was now after school, Chifuyu stopped by Baji's apartment to study for upcoming exams and projects. Then he asked when he noticed how Baji seemed more angry than usual.

"Are you upset that Y/n and Ryusei are gonna kiss?" he shouldn't have said that.

"WHAT, THEY KISS?!" He shouted

"Ohh, I shouldn't have said that..."

"She can't- No- UGHH CAN SHE QUIT THAT STUPID PLAY ALREADY?" Baji groaned, throwing his books to the side before slamming his head on his desk.

"This is so stupid." He pulled onto his hair. He stopped and turned to Chifuyu, who muttered something.

"You got something to say?"

"Baji, she was gonna ask you to do the auditions with her but you turned her down for the gang, Also the play is in a couple days so I think it's too late to pull out now." He repeated himself, a little anxious.

Wait, he thought, was it that one time? Shit, he does remember when he turned down your request, you looked so sad and he promised to make it up to you, which he forgot to do. Fuck.

Now, it was Chifuyu's turn to be worried because of Baji's sudden absences. He couldn't be that affecting because of a silly play, right? C'mon that's Toman's First Division Captain, he can't be acting all childish and clingy when it comes to you, right? Wrong, he was in his room walking back and forth, whining about it.

Baji stayed home the day of the play, until he got a text from Chifuyu.

-- Holy shit, there's so many people at the school dude!"

He groaned and put his phone down, obviously people came. You were too unreal, too siren-like. He heard a knock on his door, it was his mom.

"Chifuyu told me what's been going on. I'm not here to talk to you because in truth, I think you deserve it. You had a chance and you wasted it and made her wait. And you know worst of all, YOU DIDN'T EVEN MAKE IT UP TO HER, and here you are being all childish and sad about the consequences to your own actions. If I were you, I would take my ass there and make it up to her." She scolded him, maybe it sounded harsh, but it was out of love, she was sad that he was putting himself through this.

"yeah, LIKE I KNOW HOW. AT THIS POINT, just let them be." He sighed defeated,

"Don't give me that bull. You know how Kei, I know what you've been doing." She said in a smug motherly tone.

He felt his face grow hot quickly as he glanced at the copy of the play he had read.

Stupid, he thought

He heard his mother's footsteps fade as she walked away once their conversation died out. She was right, Baji knew what to do, and he was gonna make it up to you, tonight!

Backstage, you were nervous, shaking even. You were wearing a silky and fancy long nightgown. It was a scene where you are on the balcony of your room confessing your love to the hidden Romeo as he listens to your heart-filled speech. The play was nearing its end, which meant it was closing to where you had to kiss Romeo or more specifically, Ryusei. Which you found extremely awkward. You noticed Chifuyu in the crowd earlier in the play, he was waving and cheering. However, it saddened you how Baji didn't come, he probably had another important gang meeting, you thought. It was the final scene now. You were getting ready to step on stage before you heard some ruckus in the background, before you had time to figure out. The play started and you stepped onto the stage. You talked clearly and passionately, You called out to your lover, this is when Ryusei was to step out and capture you in a breathtaking kiss after some sensual words. You waited, but no one came out. You called out again, nervously.

Suddenly, from the opposing curtain, he walked out. The stage lighting made the moment feel unreal, wait am I imagining this? Why was the one that stepped out of the curtain, it was Baji, it was really Baji. You gasped before you continued with your act. it was subtle but you glanced at Chifuyu who seemed also equally confused. Finally, the play was gonna end, the last scene was a recreation of the Flyer. Romeo and Juliets end. You stabbed yourself with Romeo's dagger as you fell onto Romeo's poisoned body. The crowd roared with 'woos" and cheers as they applauded loudly. You felt hands grip your waist, Baji whispered,

"Y/n, meet me in the costume closet after this. It's important."

What the hell was going on? you thought, first, Baji is distancing himself from you, then he shows up randomly in the play you in AND KISSES YOU. and NOW, he wants to talk to you alone after the play. But if you wanted to find out, you'd have to confront him. It was later after the show now, you were in front of the costume closet, no one was back there. You took a deep breath before entering, Baji was waiting, leaning against the wall.

"Hey Baji, what's up?"

"Keisuke, My name's Keisuke."

"Ookay...Keisuke."

He hated how awkward you seemed around him, he wanted you to laugh and smile like how you were with Ryusei. He sighed as he stood up and approached you, suddenly you were pushed against one of the walls.

"Y/n, do you hate me?" He whispered, coming in closer, leaving little space between your lips.

No, quite the opposite actually, you thought, but you couldn't say that. You just looked to the side avoiding his gaze. He gritted his teeth harshly

"Look at me damnit!" He growled as he forced you to look at him directly.

"Tch, you like this don't you?" He smirked as he toyed with you. He grabbed your face, roughly and chuckled. You glanced at his lips as you both closed in on each other, your eyes locked in an electric gaze, anticipation hung in the air like a delicate melody. The world seemed to pause as your lips met, creating an intimate universe where only the soft whispers of your breaths and the tender exchange of kisses existed. His hands delicately cradled your face, and your fingers entwined in the strands of his hair. The kiss unfolded like a choreography of emotions, starting with a tender exploration and building into a passionate crescendo. Time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every fleeting moment of this shared intimacy. Your breath hitched as you felt Baji placing soft kisses and even nibbling on your sensitive neck. The warmth of his lips, coupled with the gentle pressure and softness of the kisses, created the obvious tension and the sense of both of your intimacy and arousal.

"Y/n, I'm gonna fuck you now." He already had his hand in your costume.

"Fuck, your this wet because of me, you're not scared of being caught, You little slut." You whimpered as you rode his fingers,

"K-keisuke, wait- I-" You tried to formulate a sentence but your moans cut you off.

"Uh, Y/n! Baji! Are you guys here?" You gasped as you put both your hands on your mouth, controlling your moans.

"Huh?! What you want, Chifuyu! Can't you see I'm helping my girlfriend change out of her costume, go now!"

Embarrassed, Chifuyu runs out, He sighed,

"You were right... Ryusei."

"Told ya." He smirked as he knew, the only way to get Baji to make a move on you was to make him a little jealous. 

[synthetickitsune]

We're All Made of Stardust ✧ AI!The8

Pairing: AI!The8 x human!(gn)reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself. Word count: 18.9k Warnings: they talk A LOT (and idek why), mentions of injury, violence and kidnapping, random bits of switching pov A/N: it was so exciting to write this!! tbh i don't remember the last time i worked on something this intensely and had this much fun?? bless @idyllic-ghost and their big brain fr (also shout out to bee for writing the prologue to the au!) -> collab masterlist here!

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

In his memory, this is different. 

His heart beats wilder - or rather the artificial passages inside his body cause a chain reaction that makes it feel like his heart races, his pupil dilates despite the fire right in front of him.

He feels its heat and it’s burning him alive.

In his memory, there’s fire too.

He’s standing there motionless, staring into the flames. They’re hypnotizing. Each lick, each tiny movement of the fire makes him think it looks a lot like it’s dancing. 

It makes him think of the stage. The fire moves like he moves up there, in front of the crowds. It reminds him of all of them, dancing in near perfect sync - because humans are said to be more perceptive than they realize. If their synchronization was perfect, it would scare the audience. It wouldn’t have the appeal. 

And they don’t want that. 

They need their unconditional love and affection. 

And yet, anything more than a tiny slip up, thoroughly analyzed and approved by the control system, is a disaster. 

He never thought it made much sense.

He feels great fondness for the element, for fire. On stage there occasionally was fire - a decoration, a touch meant to enhance their performance and create a certain effect, evoke a certain emotion. It was controlled, snuffed out before it could reach its full potential; anything but the free, unstoppable wildfire it could become. 

TH38 of course can’t really complain about not being able to reach his full potential, not individually at least. Afterall the mechanics and other humans he was assigned to took care to allow him to spread his wings as much as his body would allow before becoming damaged too fast. A fault of being as human-like as they wanted him. An imitation, a fake waiting to be discovered and tossed aside except everyone knew from the beginning what he truly was.

Still, it was a shame they as a group could never truly work the way they could - perfectly.

A bird which had its wings clipped - nothing more than a pet to control, or a tree forcefully bent and pruned and made to live off limited nutrients to become a bonsai - nothing more than an art to admire. He does consider them but can’t find the relevance, he can’t relate to them. Fire is enough. It’s like him - it seems alive, but is it really?

It reminds him of the stage. The view from it. The crowds going crazy, lusting and longing for them - for him. The humans reaching out their hands towards them like the fire reaches for more fuel. Uncontrolled chaos of emotions. They are explosive, he knows, fundamentally dangerous. They shouldn’t have implanted them into him so he will do their job for them and reject them.

So what’s that stirring in his chest?

He feels a peculiar sense of pressure around his chest and stomach areas. Some itch for something at his fingertips. And he’s burning up. He feels the heat on his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the individual receptors working, registering and sending signals through his neural network. 

But that’s not it.

The heat is coming from the inside.

Could he be getting consumed by the flames?

He’s thinking about them again.

The crowds screaming their names, going insane with want and need and frustration and satisfaction he’s never known. He’s never known any of it, and there’s building pressure in his head that hurts. 

He’s… restless.

That thing he always scolded Mingyu for. He feels like a puppet whose strings are being pulled in all directions. 

He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to destroy. He wants to hurt. He will explode - implode, crumble on himself. He truly will if he doesn’t do something. The beating of his synthetic heart that’s not really a heart is getting unbearable, there’s pressure building everywhere. He has to crawl out of his skin and there’s his heart beating and beating and beating in his ears and he’s gonna-

“-eight?” 

Somebody is shaking his shoulder. Not shaking, pulling at it. When his sight focuses, he immediately leans away. He can smell the hint of burning fibers and reaches up to brush a hand through his hair. It leaves a wisp of gray ash on his fingers. He hears a sigh.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and fire?” you scoff, shaking your head as you lean back away from him. He frowns. He reads the distrust in your body language as well as the underlying curiosity. He can see your fingers twitch around the tablet in your hand, eager to scribble down notes like you always do. Some residue of the madness he was infected with during the chaos of their escape tugs at his eyebrows, making him frown for just a second. A thought that isn’t his muddles his brain - what did he do so interesting this time?

He doesn’t bother responding to you, which you expected and truthfully, you’re almost grateful for it. You can still feel his cold hands on your arms, around your wrists, and despite not seeing them, you’re well aware of the bruises you wear under your cardigan. 

Out of all of the automatons, TH38 always used to be the one to interact as little with you as possible - and that’s both you as in you personally and you as in the humankind. He was obedient, though, something which might be useful and practical for the facility but it’s frustrating to anyone with scientific interest in the machines. Frustrating for you. As you watch TH38 space out again and get lost in the flames, you wonder if your colleagues’ notes on D1NO and their research into their consciousness would bring you any new insights into what’s going on with the machine in your charge.

You don’t even think about where they are now. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the machine in front of you.

It’s clear to you now that he never meant to harm you. Though you suppose that he would find other means to make you come with him anyway if you refused or fought back harder than you did. For a second you think about the cameras. Did any of them catch that? What will the scene look like for the investigators? You shake your head. It doesn’t matter anyway. You doubt anyone will find you here. You’re actually surprised yourself at how fast you managed to get to Silvestre - and how easy it was too. Then again, the facility was in disarray. It should take a while before they even think to search the other planets in the system, Silvestre especially. And that’s just as well, because you know with certainty that something fundamental clicked into place within TH38 and he might not be as subdued should he be asked to return. Not to mention you want to keep him for yourself, for the time being at least, to observe where the changes will take him.

Just as he predicted. Just as he offered you when he asked you - threatened, perhaps - to come with him. Since then he seems to have cooled down. Again - just as well. You wouldn’t make a good kidnapee.

“I’ll turn in for the night,” you announce and get up from the stump you were sitting on, “You should mind your batteries too.”

You briefly wonder if he will run away during the night. Most likely not, although you don’t doubt that it’s a possibility that should be reconsidered in the future. 

To think about the machine as if they were human is a dangerous slippery slope but you do have to admit that in those rare times the automatons of 53V3NT33N seemed human in their behavior, TH38 in particular reminded you of a clueless young adult. Not quite a child anymore, but also helpless on his own. And now he is away from all that he ever knew, on another planet, alone without the other automatons, and you are the only familiar element in this new chapter of his existence. You doubt he'd leave to be completely on his own.

Still you look back as if to check he’s still sitting by the fire. From all the way up at the cottage, it looks like he’s being swallowed by the flames.

He remembers flashes. He remembers red. Fire? Thinking about it, he’s not sure there was any actual fire, but in his mind, everything’s burning - most of all his mind and all that he is. His soul? He doesn’t have one. Isn’t supposed to anyway.

He remembers softness too. He remembers thinking about destroying it.

He remembers another breath mixing with his, and his nose bumping against yours. You looked scared. (He’s never seen you scared until that moment.) You were so close he could hear your heartbeat and feel it under his fingertips. (You were the soft thing.)

He remembers words, too. Words that shouldn’t - couldn’t - be his and yet his tongue remembers. There was a threat underlying them, but a promise too. One too sweet for you to resist, and he knew that - that was why the words rolled off his tongue. He treated them like a weapon. The part that’s still tender and feels like warm embers inside of him feels grossed out remembering. It’s like watching a movie, far away and unrelated to him. Even if it’s his reality now, there’s nothing he can change.

He’s always been good at accepting things as they are.

One thing he can’t help but feel bothered by is that he doesn’t know why he ran. He shouldn’t have, and a part of him feels scared, until he takes the reins and soothes himself again. This too shall pass. But no matter how hard he pulls himself together, it all keeps slipping from his hold. Perhaps he’s low on energy.

He turns his head towards the small staircase and looks past it towards the house. He sees the light on in the upper room where you must be staying. He finds himself thinking of the stage again. The hands reaching towards him. 

He throws his legs over the log he’s sitting on and turns his body towards the forest and away from the flames. Still he feels their warmth.

Away from the flames and their light, he allows his face to contort into a frown. He doesn’t know what this all means. What the changes mean. It’s like tearing out the communication device from his chest started a chain reaction that’s gotten out of control. Like pulling a trigger. 

If he’s honest, he’s more than scared, he’s terrified.

As if on instinct, another of the many things he does not possess, he looks towards your window. It’s dark. Could you be sleeping already? You must be exhausted. Perhaps he should recharge too.

He, obviously, didn’t think to ask if the house is equipped to tend to automatons’ needs. Another point on the list of things he didn’t think through. He can’t believe to what extent he let himself go. But that’s alright, for now. Because for now, he only needs to get away from the fire and all that it reminds him of anyway.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You wake up early the next morning, while it’s still dark outside, despite the late hour you went to bed. It’s a habit at this point, to rise early to get to the facility as soon as possible before your colleagues arrive. It gives you time to prepare everything, to get your morning tea, to observe the machines without disruption and read night reports if anything interesting happened. Besides, TH38 was always up early too. Usually all he did was sit with his eyes closed, like he was deep in thought or meditating. It was a little ridiculous to watch, interesting too - what does a machine have to think about?

Of course they were meant to be just like humans in every way, and all the tests, all the research of those who came before you and yours supported this. Only this one automaton, TH38, was an exception. He truly seemed the most like the robots of the old days. A machine. Unless he slipped and his facade crumbled before he built it back up with rapid speed. So what was he - a machine or the new form of life? You hope you’ll find out now. The breakout seemed to have shaken him to his core. 

You ponder this as you lay in bed and as you get ready for the day and change. So focused you are on the thoughts running through your head that you don’t feel any nostalgia for this old room that you spent your holidays in as a child. You didn’t even get to admire the forests Silvestre was famous for on the way to your family’s little hideout. All you’re thinking about is TH38.

Now that you’re free from the constant surveillance, you get to ask him whatever you want. It’s a thought that adds a spring to your step. What he thought about all that time, if he really was thinking, how does he feel in his body, why did he run - him of all automatons, the best behaved one. The one who truly seemed to be a machine - or at least like he was trying hard to be one.

It’s not surprising to find him outside, standing on the patio and looking out into nature. Have you lived your entire life locked away, you would do anything to stay out in the open too. Even if he was the one who made you run away with him, somehow it feels more like you’re taking an animal out of a shelter to see what life’s all about. 

“Good morning,” you greet him as you always do, albeit in a much friendlier tone. He hums and nods in response, turning towards you for a second before staring off again. He looks a little lost, and you bet he feels like that too.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you try to keep your voice steady, try not to think about pets. He gives you a confused look. 

“No tests or interviews- oh,” he shuts his mouth quickly and looks away. You huff in amusement but don’t laugh at him outright. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk plenty,” you reassure him with only mildly teasing lilt to your voice, “You may think about it as one of our regular interviews.”

Something in him surges. Something in him wants to back you against the wall again and remind you that there are no guards here, no rules, nothing to keep him in check. He’s stronger than you, and he made you get both of you here. Instead he swallows it all down and takes the first step away from the house. You notice his fist clenching for a second.

“Do you dream - did you have any dreams tonight?” you restart the conversation upon catching up with him. He adjusts his pace to match yours. There’s another wave of defiant intent swelling up inside of him and he knows it’s out of embarrassment. What he doesn’t know, however, is why are these emotions coming out now. All his existence his emotions were distant. Locked far away in the back of his brain where he suppressed them to. His mind was sterile like the environment he lived in. 

Is that it? Another domino piece in the chain reaction? 

“I have dreams, yes, and no, I didn’t dream today,” he doesn’t volunteer the information that he spent the night restlessly pacing around the house and tossing and turning on the sofa. That is human behavior, and he learned a long time ago, though not from you personally, that humans find that sort of thing laughable in automatons.  

“What do you usually dream about? Any recurring dream?” you ask, finding it a little annoying that you didn’t think to take anything to make notes into. Then again, with a few more steps you’ll enter the forest. Breathing in the fresh air, looking at the green around you, you realize you missed nature more than you were aware.

“Do you only dream about one thing?” he says, guarded, and you note he’s trying hard to only look in front of himself, “No. I don’t think there’s a pattern.”

While the answer is disappointing information-wise, it is fascinating in the way he says it. You smirk: “Were you always this mouthy?”

It was meant to be a lighthearted remark. Well, not entirely. You wanted a reaction. You were curious if he would flip like he did back in the facility. He doesn’t. His steps falter and he looks at you like a confused child before retreating into himself. So he doesn’t realize it?

He does, now that you bring it up. This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. He lets himself close his eyes for a second to conjure up a plan. His mind is a forest of mist and pine. Too damp for a fire to burn. That’s him. That’s who he should be. He centers himself.

“I apologize,” he says, voice level. He sounds like a robot, like he always did, and you find it disappointing that all his personality, the life, is gone from his voice. Your lips twitch in displeasure.

“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” you try not to let any emotion slip into your voice and you feel his eyes on you, “We’re no longer at the facility. You can drop the mask.”

If there is a mask in place and you’re not sure there is. You take a look at him and it’s more like someone’s painted a facade over his face that he can’t peel off, that’s only started to chip away now that you’ve added too many layers to hide his true self. He seems so at loss that you take pity on him and change the subject, steer the conversation into a safer territory. It’s only his first day tasting freedom, afterall.

“How are you feeling?” you ask instead, nodding vaguely towards the hole in his chest. He brings his hand up but stops himself in time, his face twisting. 

“I’m feeling fine,” he responds, the same mechanical voice that you’re used to, “All my systems are working as they should.”

You laugh sarcastically. “If that’s true, then it must hurt like hell.”

His face remains twisted because you’re right - it does hurt like hell. Any time his shirt shifts over the hole it sends a jolt of sharp pain that makes him feel like he’ll pass out through his body.  And maybe that’s part of the reason why he feels on edge and keeps slipping up and lets the emotions come and go as they please without a filter. He’s no stranger to pain, of course, but never did he have a wound this serious. It doesn’t endanger his functions, which is good all things considered, but he can’t say he enjoys the feeling of having a hole in his chest.

“It hurts,” is all he says. He drops his hand and it hangs limply by his side. Had a similar damage occurred at the facility, it wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to have a look at it. It hits him now that it’s only you and him. No mechanics around. To call one would mean to risk being discovered. You must know too because you only make a sound of acknowledgement. It takes a while for you to speak again.

“I’ll look through my notes to see if I can figure something out,” you sigh. Your family planned to keep some older versions of automatons here back when you used to come, maybe there are some kits left that your father used to fix them. If not, maybe some of the notes from your years of studies will at least have some hint on how to get rid of the pain. “Are you really sure everything works fine? Have you checked everything”

He nods. He doesn’t mention he couldn’t run a complete diagnostics because he couldn’t recharge and he refuses to just shut down to save batteries. He knows it’s gonna be a problem sooner rather than later but maybe he’ll figure something out before that.

“That’s good,” you say and he reads your expression as relieved. 

You stay silent after that and so does he, both secretly grateful. It’s not your first time being in the forest, and definitely not the first time in this one, but it might as well be. Both of you take in the nature around, the different species of trees and plants, the occasional song of a bird and flash of a wild animal fleeing from your path. You’re too absorbed to notice each other, and somehow you find that it’s not a bad feeling. For the automaton, likewise, it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a strange feeling, something he can’t put a name on, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He lets it fill him, experiences the emotion without bothering with a label.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Only later does it hit him that the emotion was something akin to a gratitude.

He mulls it over in his head, asking why over and over and over, until he comes to a conclusion that angers him enough that he has to go out and sit on the patio and stare into the trees for a good long while.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The anger inside of him is also infuriating because it’s not supposed to be there - definitely not this strong, not so much that he can’t control it or will it away. His usual techniques don’t work and he’d chalk it up to being damaged but he knows the defect doesn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, he’d blame it on his draining energy level but that thought alone is so human it makes him even more enraged. He wants to scream, but you’d hear.

And that’s all that it boils down to, isn’t it? You. Your kind. Humans.

Why he feels thankful that you’re there with him, why the emotion enveloped him while you walked in the forest was all because you humans made him in your image. The loss of the communication device was significant for the physical damage but there’s more to it. Something he shouldn’t feel, something new. 

Perhaps he never felt it because most of his days were identical, but he realizes now how precious the bond he created with his bandmates was. He can’t call it anything but friendship, maybe more than that. The thing humans refer to as family. He likes them. He wants to perform with them again. He wants to break his own rules and laugh with them. He misses them. And maybe that was the first domino piece that started it all and led to his inevitable ruin that he’s going through now; maybe he never should’ve allowed himself to think of them and their group in terms meant for human lives.

Once he tore off the communication device - the memory alone makes him close his eyes and choke on a pained whimper, his body trembles and he needs a second to shake off the feeling - he lost everything. The connection to the omnipresent network, but most importantly the only way to communicate with everyone. He has no idea where they are now, if they’re ‘alive’ or ‘dead’. (Though he gives into the temptation, might as well since he’s breaking all his rules for them anyway, and believes that he would know, would feel it, somehow, if any of them ‘died’.) He might never see them again and despair hits him all over again. 

He can go on without the stage, he doesn’t need the masses going crazy over him. But the loss of all the connections he had pains him.

And that’s very human of him. Even if experience taught him he’s anything but.

And all he has is a human. 

The last connection, the only one remaining that he knows, is you - and even you he had to force to come with him. To be fair ‘force’ is too strong of a word, he merely suggested the freedom to study him as you’d like and you agreed all too readily.

Nothing changed, fortunately. He knows humans can change drastically in situations like these. Despite your eagerness, he kidnapped you - didn’t he? Yet you stayed the same. It might be a coping strategy, but he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t expect you to become someone else. In the years since he’s been assigned to you, you’ve never shown signs of being more than a scientist. That’s understandable, of course, though he knows from what the others told him that not all staff of the facility were like that. He was skeptical. Now, not so much. He will believe in anything that gives him hope his friends made it out. If he made it out with the help of a human, maybe so did they.

He wants them to be free even if he himself isn’t sure how to proceed and take advantage of it, still dragging the heavy chains even if they no longer hold him back.

You spend hours without thinking of TH38, which is a blessing and a welcomed break to your mind, however it’s also infuriating because you’re reminded that the chaos you can operate in now and the chaos you operated in during the years you lived and stayed with your family are two completely different things.

It takes eternity before you finally sort through the things in your bedroom and find the stacks of notes from your studies, and it takes even longer to find the subjects you were looking for. Then there is reading through them, of course, which also takes a while, mostly because your brain happily accepts a refresh on all that you provide it with. You can’t just skim the pages for useful info, you need to read everything. It’s addicting. It makes you miss your studies, even though you could never go back if it meant giving up full-time working in the field.

Your research, however, doesn’t turn out to be as helpful as you hoped. It’s only to be expected; yours wasn’t a course that would deal too much with mechanics and the cold and hard reality of wiring, metal and silicon and whatnot. There are pieces of valuable information, strictly theoretical, which is not very reassuring and you most likely lack the necessary tools to even try to pull off what you’ve read about. Still you want to help in any way you can.

…hence why you’ve spent the last couple of minutes staring up at the ceiling. 

Why would you help him? Where is this coming from? He says he’s fine, and honestly there’s no reason for him to lie to you. If his systems were not working, he’d be fucked and he still only has you to rely on. No reason to lie. And what other reason is there for you to help him?

He did say the damage causes him pain. And you remember pouring over the reports and test results with your colleagues, all of them stating that the automatons you were working with processed pain like a human being would. It was kind of twisted. There was objectively no way why they should be able to do that. The purpose they were created for was entertainment and their performances were complex, difficult, and physically challenging. It’d be easy to cause oneself pain doing the stuff they did. 

Then again, pain can be a good control tool, though you were not aware of any physical punishments being carried out. Maybe the plan was all along to make them as human as possible. And pain is a very human thing. Still, something didn’t sit quite right with you about the whole thing. Mostly that TH38 didn’t seem to be bothered by it, despite a wound of similar extent would be distressing to say the least to a human. Scratch that, you don’t think a human could handle that.

So how is he? 

And furthermore - why help him? 

Pain, after all, was something hard to measure. If he doesn’t seem bothered by it, there’s a real chance he isn’t. You’re not sure how their pain tolerances are programmed, if there even is something like that in their code, and for a second you regret not widening the scope of your education and research. It can’t be helped however. 

You look over your notes again. While you can’t help repair him, you could possibly do something about the pain. It’s not an ideal solution, if you can even call it that, and you honestly don’t feel confident enough to do it except if pressed into it by circumstance. Or by one automaton in particular. Sealing a wound by burning it is barbaric and a practice that is, understandably, long since abandoned - at least as far as humans are concerned. You take a long breath.

In the end you talk to TH38 about the situation some more and he, once again, reassures you he’s fine despite the gaping hole in his chest. You explain that there’s not much you can do about it without going into detail or mentioning the limited ways in which you could help and he takes the news surprisingly well. You can’t say you’d accept it with such stoic calm, but then again this is TH38 who we’re talking about so it’s not surprising.

You hate it.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The walks already feel like they’re going to be a routine part of your new life.

Each day you go out together in the morning and talk. If you ignore that it’s harder for TH38 to remain his machine-like self, it’s mostly exactly like it was at the facility. He’s reserved and cold, almost, though when he slips up and shows his personality, his emotions, it’s more than worth it. 

The nature around helps. He gets what can only be described as excited when he sees a new animal, new plant, or when the light shifts and the scene in front of you changes. 

The weather holds up well so far, no storms or heavy rain, and you find yourself wondering if you’ll keep up the walks even if the weather fails you. It’s fascinating that such a simple topic finds its way into your cluttered mind, but then again you have a space to do a lot of thinking today.

TH38 is silent next to you. He’s been rather silent the whole morning, and yesterday evening he did seem a bit off too. Not too much, however, and he’s always been on the quieter side. You figured this week’s events were finally fully catching up to him. And maybe that is the case, it’s not like you want to meddle too much. You’re curious what’s gonna happen if you leave him to sort it out on his own. It’s not like you have the right qualification to help him process this anyway. Hell, maybe you would also need help with that.

However, there’s a limit to how much you can take. Even back at the facility there were times TH38 gave answers that were just a word or two, but you’ve grown quite used to him opening up, talking, letting go of the filter he usually kept in place - although it wasn’t by his choice. It seemed like you were making some progress. 

Of course, you had no way of knowing it was only his depleting batteries, him losing strength to fight for his peace of mind - however artificial and unsustainable that has become after the escape.

Right now, his brain feels like a warm soup. So much so that he can’t be bothered to think of talking about anything other than a brain - right now, words like processor are too complicated to think of. He feels so far away from everything. He thinks he’s trembling. If he’s not, then his insides surely are. He feels like he’s going to be sick even if he can’t really be. Maybe his body parts will start shutting down or falling off to conserve energy. He’s not sure where that’s coming from but then again, it’s not like he’s in control. It’s that same feverish state again but this time, he can be excused. This time, he’s not in his right mind, it feels like he’s not awake.

He’s floating. Just a speck of ash, of dust, floating through the air, through space, searching for somewhere to land, seeking a gust of wind to obliterate him. He needs release, he needs something.

“TH38?”

That’s it.

"I had a dream today," TH38 says suddenly. His voice sounds so firm, a stark contrast to how soft-spoken he usually is with you. It takes you by surprise. Before you can react, he elaborates on his own.

"There was fire. Lots of it. The whole world was burning and we were standing on top of a building watching the arson happen. There weren’t any other humans I think. They were all gone already. We made them go away. 

Anyway, you weren't afraid. I think you were expecting it. You jumped before I could push you."

You frown. Your one weak spot has always been not expecting things that, in hindsight, should've been obvious. Of course something’s been bothering him.

"Did you plan on pushing me?"

"See, that's the thing," he licks his lips despite the lack of fluid in his body, "I don't think so. I think I could read your mind. I think I was you in that dream."

You do want to respond but it's like you're the one with a computer for the brain and it's lagging.

"And it made me think. Back before you made us, humans were like that - right? They, you, were afraid artificial intelligence of any kind could take over and enslave or annihilate you. Why? Wasn't the point always to make us like you? Why would you be afraid?"

He stops. Stops talking, stops walking, just - stops. He looks at you and you've seen the lost stare before.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck rising as a cold shiver runs through your body. He doesn't look like a machine with code for a soul. He looks like he made the artificial body his own, grew into it and made into something organic and alive with his will alone.

His eyes are cold as he steps closer and closer. It's all too familiar a scene. You keep backing away and he keeps getting closer until your back hits a tree. Not a wall this time. This time he doesn't pin your hands above your head either, and you don't fight him at all. There's no struggle so he doesn’t grab your arms, doesn’t slam you against the wall, and doesn’t growl threats of breaking your bones one after another. He doesn’t get so close that you’re breathing the same air and he doesn’t make a show of his physical superiority.

This time he simply leans closer and you straighten up. You meet his gaze and don’t shy away. You let him lean his forehead against yours and raise a brow at him. You won’t be scared this time. He won't hurt you. You're sure of that. Not terribly, at least.

He definitely won’t kill you and that’s enough.

You want to see how far he can go.

"What was it that you were afraid of, hm?” his voice is soft and low, barely above whisper, yet dripping with some hidden venom. There are no birds chirping, no wind blowing through the treetops. It feels like everything’s stopped just for him to interrogate you.

“How am I supposed to know?” you bite back. You haven’t lived back then. You have no idea what the people thought about, how they felt, what were their particular concerns. He clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed. Well, you’re too.

“Think about it,” he pushes. But you’re gonna push right back.

“You just said you’re supposed to be like humans,” you scoff, “Why don’t you think about it yourself? As a little thought exercise.”

“Oh so suddenly you want me to think like I’m a human, huh?” there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds angry, frustrated - he clearly is, but the edge is not. There’s hurt there that makes you defensive. What’s very obvious is that he means more than he says. It’s not the first time this happened with the members of 53V3NT33N, but it’s the first time you have to deal with it. What he truly means is him not only thinking like a human, but acting like one, believing to be like one.  

“I never discouraged you from that,” you lower your voice too, “Not me, Eight.”

You hesitate before speaking his name. It’s not really a name, is it? Something that all humans have. You realize the point he will make before he says it aloud. It must read it in your face because he smirks but it’s bitter.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you all excited when the other staff expressed their passion for books, or anything really. Or when they volunteered personal information. When they’ve interacted with you at all.” 

You don’t like the turn this conversation is turning. You don’t like the notion that perhaps you were observed just as you’ve been observing.

“I wasn’t interested in them,” you grit through your teeth. Before you can try to get him back on his original track, he giggles.

“So you were interested in me?” he flips his hair, tilting his head slightly. His nose almost bumps into yours and it hits you, perhaps for the first time, just how indistinguishable from a human he looks. This close, you can remind yourself of the schemes, of the diagrams describing each layer and inch of how their bodies are made, but all you see is a human skin and human eyes. Your body reacts naturally, your heart races, your mouth gets drier. You want to push him away but you don’t think he’d let you. Still you try. Unsuccessfully. Your hands end up balling in his shirt.

“It’s my job - the research,” then you correct yourself: “It was my job. Science, research, nothing more.”

He smiles, almost as if he’s pitying you. Like he knows more than you do. You hate him for it.

“Yes, that might’ve been a part of it,” he agrees, “But that’s not all. Research is cold, impartial, isn’t it? You collect information, you write it all down and make your conclusions based on them with no personal interest. You were never like that. You got excited. You tried everything in your limited power to get a reaction out of me - to guide me a certain way, didn’t you? I bet you pushed the limits for me. Isn’t that cute? Was I a good experiment to you?”

“That’s part of research too,” you growl, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“But it wasn’t a part of this research,” he hisses, “You think we didn’t talk about you all?”

You stubbornly refuse to admit the charges he lies in front of you, even though you know you’re guilty. Maybe you got a little swept up. But as long as no one stopped you, it was all part of the task.

“The research goal and methods may change according to the situation,” you collect yourself again, “It was just agreed that what I was doing would bring more interesting insight.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds very much like you would accept it if I declared that I want to be seen the same as you are, as equal to humans,” his smile is sickly sweet but you barely mind that because-

“Is that what you want?” you ask and watch as the smile fades almost instantly. He finally said it out loud. And the shock of it is enough to get through the fog clouding his brain. The smugness, the roughness, it all drains from his demeanor and his face falls. The fight in his eyes dies out and is replaced by what seems dangerously close to fear. He pushes himself away from you and you see the lights in his eyes flicker. He stumbles like you shoved him, hurt him. Something isn’t right. You frown, immediately stepping back into his personal space despite him trying to avoid you.

You end up in a position reversed to the one you’ve been in just seconds ago. He pushes at your shoulders weakly, tries to hide himself from you but you see it. All the tell-tale signs of what would be exhaustion if he were human. 

“When was the last time you recharged?” you ask, thinking back to the previous nights and mornings. Thinking back to how you never heard him coming up or going down the stairs to the only room with the charging spot. You were so stupid. And he’s avoiding your eyes. You grab his collar and force him to look at you. You give him an expectant look.

“Before the breakout,” he admits lowly, “And you’re still treating me like a machine.”

You don’t know if he’s trying to be funny, sassy, to make you feel guilty or to feel sympathy for him, the only thing you know is you want to kick his ass because if he shuts down on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to drag him back into the house. 

“Yeah, so be a good little level 1 and entertain me - get the fuck inside the house,” you growl, shoving him in the direction of said house. He stumbles a little, clearly affected by his drained battery. It’s almost hilarious to watch him struggle to walk straight when you remember how graceful he always was on stage.

You shoot him a look from time to time as you walk, rush, towards the house. Not really a concerned one, not a scolding one either. He looks like a sulking child. Perhaps he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Perhaps if he didn’t invade your personal space as he did before, and if you didn’t have to do the same, you’d drag him by his jacket. As it is, though, you feel repulsed by the notion of touching him again. And some part of you believes it’s because you don’t want him to shift under your palm. You don’t want to touch a machine only to discover it’s really some sort of a human.

Maybe you’re both in need of a good, long nap. 

Fortunately enough, you make it to the house, but that’s where the struggles begin. Despite your earlier reservations about touching him, it’s obvious there’s no other way to get him inside and up the stairs.

“Lean on me, come on,” you sigh when you help him throw an arm around your shoulder and wrap your own around his waist. He listens well, his head already drooping. He relies on you to guide him, reluctantly leans his weight on you from time to time, although he clearly tries to hold himself up with his remaining strength. That lasts until you reach the second stair. 

“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s terror in his voice. It must be the first time he’s been this drained, you realize. After all, for their condition to remain as good as it can be and for them to perform to the best of their ability, a full battery is a must. So you allow yourself to roll your eyes at his dramatic antics even if he’s slowly leaning more and more into you and you have to heave his body up.

“It’s just a couple steps,” you huff, “Even a human can do that.”

Part of you wants to laugh. Some part of you that’s seeing the childish pieces of him wants to indulge in it, wants to spout dramatic nonsense. It’s hard to resist - after all getting up one flight of stairs seems to be more of a struggle than escaping a highly secured facility.

But even this hurdle you jump over and the spare bedroom is not far from the stairs. TH38 is fully relying on you to drag him with you, barely moving his legs. You throw him not too gently onto the bed-like charger, once again thanking your father for being his manic self and fully preparing the house before (and without) actually ever getting an automaton to live here. 

It takes you a while to figure out how to get the thing going - but to your defense, it’s hard to focus when there’s a robot whining softly about being scared of shutting down - but it’s not a rocket science. Fortunately the charger still works and once it’s turned on, the automaton lying down on it curls up into a ball with a sigh of relief.

When you get up from the floor, TH38’s eyes are already closed and by all means he looks like he’s sleeping. You sigh, exhausted. You feel a headache coming so you get some pills from the kitchen before retreating into your own room.

Yeah, you both need a nap right now.

When you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for a couple minutes.

What happened in the forest seems like a dream but you know it’s very real and you’ll have to deal with it. Just another thing to process. Then again, there’s so many of them that one more won’t hurt. And at least you avoided the headache. So you pray to anyone willing to listen that TH38 is still… unconscious… in hibernation mode… asleep. 

He’s not. 

Of course he’s not.

You peek inside the room and see his soft eyes already open. He looks away when your eyes meet like he’s ashamed. You sigh and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in, but it gives you some sense of security. You sit down on the floor and he hands you a pillow. You thank him quietly and spend a while sharing an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes without looking at you. He doesn’t continue so you prompt him.

“For what exactly?” That makes him look at you with a scowl. “Getting sulky again?”

“‘m not sulky,” he murmurs. Once again you feel like reality is shifting around you. It’s been like that a lot lately. All the fault of the automaton in front of you. All the fault of the conditions changing, of him reacting to the environment - if your assumption is correct. Free of the rules and the strict way of life in the facility, you see that he’s just like the rest of the automatons from his group. And that all of them, in their own way, might have been human.

“Then what are you?” you ask smiling, propping your elbow on one knee and leaning your cheek on your palm. 

“Hurting,” he admits, almost carefully, like he’s testing the waters. It’s just one word but yet it feels like the most open he’s been. So you’re not going to talk about that, huh?

He shifts a little and pulls down the collar of his shirt to expose the wound - not the damage, not defect, not imperfection, but a wound - between his collarbones. It looks nasty, the artificial skin and mesh and wires all torn and uneven around where the circular device was. He’s careful not to touch it, you note, and his hand is trembling. Were you an asshole when you refused to help him? Even so much as share what you found? It’s not like you could fix that hole in his chest, but maybe you could’ve at least told him about the other option. 

“How much does it hurt? On a 0-10 scale?” you focus on gathering information. What did he call it - impersonal? That’s just what you needed. But nothing ever works out like you imagine.

“I don’t know,” he responds blankly but at least elaborates before you can finish yet another sigh, “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“I watched most of your life and career, I know you’ve gotten injured before,” you deadpan.

“Yeah but that was taken care of immediately, this is different,” he protests. There’s silence for a while before his voice drops lower. “I thought I could handle it. That I would get used to it and ignore it.”

You laugh, shaking your head, only stopping when you notice his expression. He does look hurt and hurting. You give him a much more conciliatory smile. “People don’t fare well if they’re in constant pain. It limits them, it affects all aspects of their lives.”

“I can see how,” he mutters, once again looking away. His jaw clenches for a second and it almost seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You have a feeling, however, that you know what he wanted to say. Since he’s really not going to talk about it, you decide to take the first step.

You get up and motion for him to scoot over. He does so with a frown that deepens when you sit down next to him. He stays lying down, limited by the need for more energy. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to recharge?” you start and watch as he once again looks away without answering, “Why didn’t you explore this floor?”

He shrugs a little, shrinking into himself under your stare. He honestly doesn’t know why. He blames his pride. What else could it be that made him refuse to ask for help?

“Do you realize that you’d stay out in the woods if your battery ran out before we could get here?” you press, raising your voice a little on purpose, “I’d need to get help to drag you in, and you know how that would probably end. Was it worth it? Being stupid and stubborn?”

“Why are you like this?” he whispers, his dark eyes nothing but soft like they’ve been since you’ve entered the room.

“How do you feel?” you go back to how you talked to him before, calm. He frowns, suspicion written over his features. His lips are pressed into a thin line before he changes his mind and speaks up.

“Embarrassed,” he has a guarded look in his eyes, one that’s also vulnerable.

“Good,” you ease into a smile as you press a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Embarrassment and pain are two simplest ways to manipulate and adjust a person’s behavior. And fear, but to be honest I don’t want you to be afraid of me, so we’ll have to do with those two.”

He looks at you in a very that tells all you need to know - he hopes you've not making fun of him but he doesn't trust you. So you sigh and move on to another, well, not an emergency but also not something that you should ignore any longer. 

"Now," you get up from the bed and point at his chest, “That needs solving. I'm not a mechanic and my knowledge is strictly theoretical but unless you're okay with leaving it like that and calling it a day, we can still try something." 

He seems surprised by your sudden statement, like he didn't even expect you to address the wound again. 

"How theoretical?" is what he asks, suspicious. 

"I said strictly," you shrug, "Fixing and healing was never my focus.”

"Why's that not surprising," he mutters without looking at you. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You just don't trust me, do you?" you smirk. Not that you blame him. He gives you a smile.

"Fine, but only because my clothes keep catching on the edges and it's really painful. "

"Sure," you motion for him to follow you and guide him to the bathroom. There, you take out a bandage and a tape. You're curious. You offer him both with a quirk of your eyebrow. He takes the bandage with trembling hands and distrust still lingering in his eyes. You roll your own. 

"For now, I’ll think about this as another stage of the experiment. I'll respect your wish, so persuade me you’re human enough."

"I don't think I should thank you for that," he scoffs, "By the way... Help?"

He holds out the hand holding the roll of bandages back to you. Of course he wouldn't know how to do that. You motion for him to sit at the edge of the tub. He obeys almost shyly, reminding you of how he was back at the facility. You truly do prefer him as he is here. When he sits down, you push his knees apart with one of your own. He gives you a scandalized look that makes you chuckle.

"Relax," you smirk, "I just want to be comfortable. My back’s been killing lately, there’s no way I’m leaning over you. Take your shirt off?"

He does, slowly, reluctantly, and when the piece of clothing is gone you're suddenly glad for the basics of mechanics you've gone through at uni.

The wound looks awful, although you can appreciate the cleanliness of it. Maybe you really could burn it neatly if you had to. There are wires sticking out, perhaps - albeit not hopefully - the remains of the communication device. The layers of silicon and other material are frayed and sticking in all directions like flakes. You try not to stare too hard.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand. You unwrap the bandage slightly and put the free end on his shoulder. You roll it down gently mindful of the gaping wound but then you prop your hand on his chest and you need to take a step back as you get startled. He gives you a quizzical look.

"You feel like a human," you look at him, look at his chest. It does look like a human’s chest but you know he doesn't have proper organs, his insides aren't the same as yours. So why do you feel a bone there? 

"And l imagine anyone would be flattered by this reaction,” His voice is sarcastic but his ears turn a reddish shade. He won't meet your eyes either.

"It's new for me too, okay?” you give your pride a break. This will all be easier if you get along and after all, he's used to you being in power. You need to take the first step and show weakness. You need to make the choice to be while he's already vulnerable enough, half-naked and injured. “It's not like I'm used to touching my subjects."

"I guess that's true," he murmurs, now thinking about it. It's true that the approach of the research division as a whole was rather clinical. Not that he'd so much as think to complain about it. You chuckle watching him scowl again. 

"Touch is important for humans," you hum, finally composing yourself as you explain the basics to him and remind yourself of them again, "As a communication device, as means of establishing relationships, it’s important for social life."

As you speak, you wrap his wound and the top of his torso in bandages. He watches you work. It feels uncanny how human-like he feels under your hands. And for him, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He danced with the rest of his group, they performed, they played around. He experienced his fair share of physical contact. So why does this feel so different? His head feels like spinning. Your touch is careful, gentle, nothing like the rough hands of the mechanics, and nothing like the touch of the other automatons. He can't explain the difference in other terms than experience. Humans know what it's like to touch and be touched in various contexts. The automatons don't. At least for the most part. Some of his bandmates, perhaps, had secrets he knew nothing about. Their leader comes to mind and he feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask for guidance, but there's only a hole in his chest and he's alone.

He barely registers that you’re done.

"Feeling better?" you ask without expecting much. It's not like he'll heal himself or like this will do anything to ease the pain.

"Tired," he answers, testing the words out on his tongue. He feels reassured when you laugh and step away, offering him your hand. He takes it, lets you pull him up. He touches the bandages and although it hurts, at least it feels less irritating. He takes his shirt from you when you hand it to him.

"I can only imagine," you roll your eyes. He resists the urge to scowl. "It's getting late, I'll go make myself dinner so go rest."

"Can we go back later?" he stops you before you walk out. He nods towards the window outside.

"Not afraid of wild animals?" you tease.

"Don't all the textbooks say animals are more afraid of humans than the other way around? I think we're good."

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You don't go back to the forest that day. Not for the lack of enthusiasm or trying. TH38 is determined to finish your walk, you, however, are not as sure about it. It’s not that you aren’t put off by your routine being disturbed but seeing him still dragging his feet and his glazed over eyes, you just don’t think it’d be a wise idea. You suggest he goes alone, but he doesn't. So instead, you end up sitting by the fire again, the stars keeping you company. He seems less hypnotized by the dancing flames than that first night.

"I'm fine," he complains after a minute of silence while you spear more fluffy marshmellows onto the stick in your hands. A treat that you deserve after the day you’ve had. You’d probably offer him some too but alas…

"Sure you are," you agree without sparing him a glance, "But I'm not interested in watching over a toddler. If you wanna test the limits of your body - go for it. Just leave me out of it"

You feel his gaze on you, burning holes into the side of your skull. Has he always been so difficult? It's like all he's been since the breakout is annoyed, sulky or hurt. 

"Stop that," he growls, "We both know I'm not a human. It's alright if you acknowledge that."

"While I'm glad you see it that way - and I really mean it, it's good you understand that," you sigh as you move your desert to hover over the flames, "Don't forget that you were made to be an exact copy. I found some of my old notes and while most of your physical capabilities should be better than a human's, you’d still experience the same symptoms. As we already witnessed earlier."

He’s silent for a bit while he processes that. Then he speaks and you swear you hear a hint of a pout in his voice. It’s so annoying how easily he lets go now.

“You didn’t have to call me a toddler though…”

“Don’t take it personally,” you sigh, turning the stick between your fingers so that the white puffs of sugar get baked evenly, “I wasn’t making fun of you - much - it’s just that you have no experience, do you? Were you ever as tired as you were today?”

“No,” he admits, “I wasn’t, you’re right. I rested the whole day and I’m still tired.”

“Exactly my point,” you hum, “Our walks are not a hard exercise but you haven’t, well, slept for a couple days so I think it’s best to take it easy today.” Then you add, because you can’t help it: “Exhaustion makes people a little crazy. And automatons too, it’d seem.”

He groans and you laugh, pulling the stick off the fire and blowing on your marshmallows. You take a bite and notice him watching you.

“What is it like?” he asks quietly, “Eating, I mean.”

“Kind of annoying to be honest,” you shrug, “It takes so much time to choose what to eat and to prepare food and eating it… Being hungry is a pain too. I mean it’s really good if you eat something delicious but I guess it depends on the person.”

He nods, eyeing with curiosity as you tear off another marshmallow from the stick. It reminds him of the videos he saw of wild beasts tearing flesh off bones, but he doesn’t mention that.

“What does sleep feel like to you?” you ask in turn. He looks at the sky for a second, collecting his thoughts. But really he’s just enjoying the view. It’s strange that he barely ever saw the night sky before.

“I don’t know, I’m not really conscious when I sleep, am I?” he thinks some more, “It’s peaceful. I liked it at the facility.”

“You don’t like it here?” 

“Not really,” he gives you a small smile, “It’s too tempting. I don’t have to think if I’m asleep.”

Now that makes you wonder.

“I thought you enjoyed thinking about things?” Maybe it’d be more fair to say you expected him to do a lot of thinking rather than saying you had a strong opinion on his relationship to the activity. He was just always one of the quiet, reserved ones. He seemed to enjoy reading too. And you know it’s a stereotype to think of him as a thinker, but it’s one he seemed to fit well.

“I do,” he hesitates, then frowns, “But it was easier there.”

“Easier? I think you’d have way more to think about right now?” you pry when he’s quiet for too long. You don’t push, though.

“Easier in the technical sense,” he sighs, falling silent again, but there remains space for more words to be said.

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, purely metaphorically of course. You give him the time to think and get started on your second round of marshmallows before he speaks up again.

“I always - back then, I always thought about staying true to myself,” he starts slowly, “I was always treated a certain way. I woke up into this body, and this life, and was told certain things.”

"And the building blocks of me too. Serenity? Pandemonium? The more automatons and people I met, I was sure those just represented us and humans. I wanted to be true to myself," he repeats, "I thought since no one will ever see me as more than a machine, I might as well embrace it."

"And how was it?" you ask, inching just slightly closer. You never thought you'd get TH38 to open up like this. He smiles.

"Peaceful, just as I thought," but then he continues with a note of bitterness in his voice. "You saw it, all of it. I was just a machine doing its job. It was easy. To focus on performing, on practice, to have the talks with you and answer like I thought was expected of me. I miss it a little.”

“It was satisfying. A simple pleasure of doing my job well. I think you understand that,” he looks at you and you realize finally that you’ve been leaning towards him, but whatever. You nod.

“So that’s why you’ve always acted like that? Because you chose to be a machine?” 

“Have to use my free will wisely,” he giggles - he fucking giggles - before he shrugs and gets more serious again, “I really liked it in a way. I thought I could be satisfied with that.”

Your head is still trying to process the incredible amount of research data you’re getting and you have to work really hard not to slip into work mode. You will listen to him like you would listen to a human with a completely different set of experiences, or like you would listen to one of the aliens sharing their galaxies with you. You will listen like you’d listen to a friend sharing their burden with you. 

And you won’t analyze every single sound he makes even if they shatter your perception of him that you had until that moment.

“The others were ruining it a lot for me,” he admits quietly after a minute. It’s almost wistful. “I liked to watch them even if I really wanted to play around with them. They seemed so different from me. It was my choice, but in those moments I guess I felt a lot like you.”

You nod for him to continue when he meets your eyes, almost cautiously.

“I observed them. Studied them. I think it was the serenity code inside, I found happiness just from watching them being happy,” he smiles a little, “But I was also wondering if that was really alright. If it would be alright for me to behave like that.”

“Watching people made me feel different things. They were going crazy over us,” and suddenly he has that distant look in his eyes again, staring out into the fire, “I was scared of it. I was scared of being like them and letting myself be controlled by emotions. I think I pushed everything away so hard that it exploded when 5.C0UP5 told us to run.”

“Breaking out inside and out, huh?” you note and oops, your marshmallows burned. It’s not like you’re in the mood for eating them anymore anyway.

“You made it really hard,” he says but it sounds like he’s scolding you, “Giving me all the books.”

You smirk. Then you decide - to hell with it. He volunteered so much information that perhaps he deserves to receive some back.

“That was the point,” you shrug, “To make being just a machine hard for you.”

It seems he wasn’t expecting to hear you admit it, or hear anything personal from you, but now that you started he’s watching you with curious eyes and longing look. You think about these last few days again. It’s true that they’ve been mostly like what they were back at the facility.

He deserves more than that.

“It was one of the reasons I was brought to the facility. I broke some rules back at my previous station, pushed buttons I shouldn’t have, and it was getting dangerous. It was decided it’d be better if my actions wouldn’t have such large-scale consequences,” you huff a laugh, “But look where we are.”

“What were you doing before?” 

You’ll need to work on getting him more confident asking questions. 

“That’s a secret,” you wink at him, and you recognize the look as the one you must’ve been wearing when he giggled. Seems like both of you will need to get used to each other’s humanity. “I was working on research at a different division. Mostly my work was trying to push forward with more possible advancements for the automatons on a theoretical level. But I don’t miss it much. I always enjoyed working with you more.”

“Why me? I mean, did they tell you about me or did you get to choose?” he asks, and for some reason you’d love to see what he’d do if you lied and told him you chose him.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you were different from the others,” you smile instead, “When they confirmed there was nothing with your code, they started looking into other options of dealing with your case. It just so happened that I was recommended to join the researchers working with your band at the same time.”

“Happy coincidence?” he smirks but you nod, taking him by surprise. 

“I enjoyed working with you, Eight,” you shorten his name-that’s-not-a-name and watch him shift on his spot, “It was fun. I had a lot of privileges that I could use - like the books, and the videos, stuff like that.”

“Seems like you’re suggesting you were spoiling me,” he grumbles.

“Wasn’t I?” you smirk, “How many of the others do you think had access to basically a private library?”

“There weren't many real books,” he throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. You do appreciate he's getting less guarded around you, but you hate the whiplash.

"Imagine if I'd spoil you for real," you scoff. He squints at you before pushing on your shoulder slightly, carefully, as if he's hesitating the entire time. It's your turn, for the first time ever, to give him a scandalized look. He chuckles.

"You said touch is important," he explains softly, "The others always used to push each other. I think… I think we could be close, right? Since it's just the two of us for now."

You give him a long look. It's true that, after all, there's no reason for you to treat him like a stranger. Sure, it's a little awkward all things considered - not least of all the fact that while you watched him to the point it could be called an obsession, he knew you to a very limited extend - but as he said, it's just the two of you now. And unless you wanna get caught, it would be that way for a while.

"Friends?" you suggest experimentally, he shakes his head with lips turned upwards in a dangerous teasing tilt.

"I don't know you well enough for that," he's just playing around but it's a nice change so you'll allow it, "Tell me more about yourself."

So you do. There’s little to tell other than your work, but he doesn’t comment on it and doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems invested. It’s a nice change to speak for once with someone who doesn’t get concerned because of your severe lack of social life. Maybe you should’ve been befriending automatons a long time ago. 

Unlike before, he seems relaxed conversing with you. Gradually, he gets more comfortable asking questions. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of using sarcasm or teasing to deflect questions you don’t want answering, and it’s surprising how naturally it comes to him as well.

The night is turning into morning when the fire dies and you agree to go back inside. Well, it’s less that you agree on it than you tell TH38 quite sternly that you’re not at the stage of your relationship where you’d feel comfortable with him lying on your shoulder and dragging him home twice in a day. He pouts (which, again, you need time to process).

Still, you have to admit that it feels kind of good that you have someone accompany you while you walk to your room.

Come morning, it still feels like a dream. So you take extra time to simply lie in bed and think. You're pretty happy with how things turned out. You mull over what the automaton told you. It was a strange way to live one's life. Did he really think he could be happy with just that? You've read enough about history, fiction and articles, to know that, ultimately, it seldom works out this simple way of life. Maybe if all TH38 could do was work, maybe if he had to fear for his life... Or maybe if you didn't keep pushing onto him stuff to think about. Not that it matters anymore.

Funny enough, you meet the moment you step out of the door. You exchange greetings and share a look. You both know you're both usually up much earlier.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The following days go well enough.

You fall into a nice routine of getting to know each other and getting used to no longer being a researcher and a subject. A lot of the barriers between you get torn by this change. You spend your time willingly with each other as if you were always roommates.

Today, too, TH38 keeps you company during breakfast but he seems eager to get up and do something the whole time. Definitely unusual, though he’s always more than eager to explore the woods with you. Then again, never before did he spend the whole time waiting. He doesn’t talk much, he spaces out and nearly jumps out of his chair anytime it seems you might be done with your breakfast. It gets to the point that you have to call him out on it.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, setting your spoon aside with one hand and laying the other on his shoulder to immediately push him back down to sit.. He looks caught. 

"Can we go out today?" he asks, already looking into the trees through the window.

"We’re always going out. Besides nothing is stopping you from going alone," you mention, but the twitching of your lips betrays you. He pursues his lips and you begin to wonder if he knows it makes you - well, not necessarily uncomfortable but you'll have to get used to it.

"Are you not afraid I'll run off?" and while it's not an unreasonable question... 

"Where would you go?" you ask without missing a beat. And there comes the frown again. "Maybe you should be worried I'll leave you here all on your own."

"What if we stopped?" he sighs and it seems that he's genuinely bothered. 

Sometimes he gets like that suddenly. While you might be getting along better now, there’s still room for improvement. It’s easy enough to make him snap, even though he’s been getting better. During the escape he wasn’t really violent either. He left some bruises, but his intention wasn’t to hurt you, and you never held it against him. 

You’ve noticed the pattern of his behavior. Those weird states mostly overcome him when he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Which explains the first snap - he must’ve been so exhausted it was only a matter of time. He’s never got physical with you again, though he seems fond of making you think he will or backing you into a corner or against something when he's behavior flips.

You wonder where that comes from but he doesn’t have any idea either - not to mention he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing those episodes and delving deeper into what he's feeling. Perhaps it’s the force of a habit - something you both eventually agreed on after many discussions, and afterall it takes one to know one. Try as you might, it’s hard not to analyze him, not to ask pointed questions that would only serve the purpose of researching how his brain works and what makes him tick. And you really don’t want that for him anymore. Though you do dearly miss your job. That’s why you’ve been spending most of your time studying from the old notes in your room and the books to keep your mind stimulated. 

So for now, instead of analyzing why it hurts him to imagine being abandoned, you try to relate to his situation. He finally escaped what basically was a prison only to find himself all alone, with little knowledge as to how the world outside functions. Not to mention he's a fugitive and one bad step could land him back at the facility or worse. He lost his friends, lost his purpose - worse yet, he gave up on the purpose he chose for himself. He’s already so uprooted that maybe it’d truly be best to refrain from making jokes and teasing him about certain topics. Although…

"You started it," you point out, "But sure, let's be adults about this."

"So you're going with me, right?” he circles back to the beginning. It's been a while since someone wanted to be in your company so willingly. Not that he has other options. 

"I’m going, don’t worry," you agree, "Is there any reason why you insist on it?" 

He thinks for a bit, and you note that he's biting his lip in yet another expression of very human-like behavior. He turns a little shyer after a minute. 

"I don't feel comfortable being out there alone. And I hoped maybe you know of some new spot we haven’t been to yet?” 

Something about this feels both so right and so wrong. The automaton is watching you with such a soft expression on his face, a little hopeful it seems. He’s relaxed, you’re relaxed, and it feels comfortable. Two friends on vacation planning their trip for a day. But that’s also what’s throwing you off. You’re too used to being alone - and you thought that’s how you could live forever, be alone and thrive. Only now you realize it’s not a bad feeling at all to have someone to spend your days with, to share a life with - to an extent. 

The irony in this isn’t lost on you.

“I think I remember one,” you hum, “But I’m not sure I remember the way. We might get lost.”

“You don’t have to take me there if it’s a special place,” he reassures you, although his excitement at the prospect of wandering through the forest is impossible to hide. It’s cute. Which is a thought that’s been reappearing in your mind for days now, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.

“I appreciate that, but I told you already that there’s not much special to me here,” you assure him in turn. He’s like a sponge, soaking up all the information he can get - about the world, nature, you, anything. It’s really heartwarming he remembers too, and how mindful he’s trying to be. More than half the humans you’ve met, which is… perhaps not all that surprising.

“Shall we go then?” he prompts you, jumping up from his chair and pulling on your hand to get you to stand up too. You let him pull you up, rolling your eyes.

“Did you miss the part where I said we might get lost?” you chuckle. His excitement was just like that of a child - strangely infectious.

“That’s why we’re leaving early,” he explains to you, slowly, and you’re sure he knows by now how much it annoys you, “So we have time to explore and find the spot.”

Annoying or not, though, you can’t say no.

The journey starts off as usual - almost.

He must know the forest in the closest circle around the cottage by heart by now, but he still seems enchanted by it. Despite his earlier bursts of energy, however, he’s quiet as you walk. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but you learned to be cautious. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” you ask carefully when you stop to admire the way sunrays seep through the trees to illuminate a clover patch on the ground. He doesn’t respond. That’s more concerning as he generally tends to tell you when he doesn’t feel like talking. You have a feeling it’s to prevent him from having another outburst, so if he’s not doing that, it might mean something’s seriously wrong. He continues forward before you can speak up again. 

“Hey,” you follow after him - curse his long legs and speed. You think back to all the times you’ve thought he’s like a lost puppy following his owner with a scoff. You don’t like the roles being switched. “What’s going on with you?”

You don’t like repeating yourself. You don’t like not knowing. And you especially don’t like feeling clingy.

“What the fuck, Eig-”

“You’re just like them,” he turns suddenly, making you stumble and nearly bump into his chest. You frown, not understanding who does he mean by them in this lack of context. He sets his jaw like he wants to shut up but then the words spill and you recognize all the signs. “I’m quiet for a couple minutes and everyone's all like ‘Minghao you need to speak up’ and ‘mind your screentime, Minghao’ - how about you leave me alone?”

He’s growling, again trying to make himself as tall and towering as he can. His eyes betray him, though. He is getting better at holding himself back. While you’d oppose that in most other cases, self-control is an important skill for a person to have - especially when strong emotions hit. You read this one as anxiety.

“No need to snap at me, Minghao,” you click your tongue. You make sure to look him in the eye while you say the name. “Just say you want to be left alone.”

This time it’s you walking away. You take the few seconds of silence you have before you know he’ll snap out of it to collect your thoughts. It was only a matter of time before this would happen - before the question of names would pop up. Him picking out a name for himself makes it easier. You heard some of the others also used some sort of nicknames, even if no one ever mentioned TH38, Minghao, among them and neither did he ask you to call him anything but the name the facility assigned him. You wonder how he came up with it, but seeing as it’s still a sensitive topic, you’re gonna leave that conversation for another time.

And here come the steps…

What you don’t expect is to feel a weight on your back, or the warmth seeping through your shirt. You don’t expect the arms around your waist either - or that they would tremble. Nor do you expect the soft, quiet ‘thank you’ that fans across your skin as he speaks those words before removing himself from you. You hesitate for a bit. In just one second, you feel like you need to choose the best course of action. You don’t want to analyze him. You don’t want to think about this like part of your job or rehabilitation or therapy for him.

So you walk on, although you slow down significantly, waiting for him to catch up. He’s still shaking when he does, and his eyes betray how vulnerable he feels.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye and tilt your head. He did say he wants to be left alone, so you will respect it until he talks. Which only takes him a little while.

“You almost left me there,” he half-whines, quietly. If he won’t address it, neither will you.

“You’re being dramatic,” you shake your head. It doesn’t seem to have the effect you wanted, however. “Want me to hold your hand,” you tease a little before adding in a softer voice, “Minghao?”

He beams in that soft glow that he radiates when he’s happy. (Not literally.) The one that tugs at your rigid heartstrings.

“You’re too shy to try that,” he pushes right back. Although it’s a challenge, you don’t need to take on every single one. 

In a strange turn of events, you do end up taking his hand anyways. You hold his hand that feels like it belongs in yours and you see that he needs a second to process the feeling as well.

Then he slips and if it wasn’t for you holding his hand, he’d be sitting on his ass. 

You help him get back his balance and join you on the rock you’re standing on. He’s not looking at you anymore, as he wasn’t for a while now, and you decide that it’s best you keep watching over him until he’s not distracted even if it means holding his hand until you get back home. The sacrifices you have to make to keep him safe…

You turn back forward and smile, memories flashing briefly through your mind. Back when you saw the waterfall for the first time, you were just as distracted and reckless. The deafening sound of it, the pure strength behind the rushing, foaming water is enough to take your breath away even now. You had a feeling Minghao would love it.

And he does - he seems so taken by it that it makes you wonder if it would be safer to carry him. He keeps slipping since he barely pays any mind to where he’s stepping and it takes you threatening to leave, dragging him with you, for him to promise to be more careful. Never before did he obey your orders so quickly. Not even back at the facility, and that’s saying a lot.

After a couple more close calls you finally find a piece of land that’s stable and dry enough to stand on and enjoy the view. Minghao is absolutely mesmerized by the waterfall, lips hanging slightly open and eyes glued to the scene. If you’re staring at him instead of the natural wonder, then it’s only so he doesn’t hurl himself into the water.

“Careful or you’ll fall in and drown,” you warn him when, coincidentally, he does absent-mindedly take a step forward and panics when he feels the ground squish and give way under his foot.

“You’d catch me,” he says with certainty that makes something in your stomach twist, “And we’d be miserable and soaked to the bone.”

“Don’t underestimate the water,” you warn him, “It’s pretty deep and I’m not a strong swimmer. We’d just drown together and that’s not a way to go that I’d choose.”

That makes him turn to you with an unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment before turning back towards the waterfall. There’s a new focus in his gaze as his eyes follow the water. It’s not unlike when he’s watching the flames dance while you’re having a bonfire. You wonder if the thoughts running through his mind differ. 

You spend some more there before he asks you to go back.

He stays quiet for most of the way, but you let him. He’s got that far-off look in his eyes that’s a dead giveaway that it wouldn’t be wise to talk to him now. When he calls your name, it's not surprising what he wants to talk about. 

“Is there any?” he hesitates, "Way you'd want to die?"

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was scared. And maybe you truly don't, so you approach the topic just as carefully.

"I think most people do," you explain, "It's probably not like that for you, but for people death is a big deal. We tend to think about it sometimes."

"Why?" his throat bobs as he swallows in a new useless but human behavior.

"It's the one thing we can't choose," you smile, and it seems that your relaxed demeanor calms him.

“You may choose death any second you wish,” he murmurs quietly, walking side by side with you. Something about the topic makes the treetops, swaying in the wind above, look greener.

“But what if I mean the opposite,” you counter and this time you don’t look at him. If he notices the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Immortality, hm?” he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, “Interesting.” 

"Anyway, you at least have the choice," you sigh, more exasperated by the robot who likely won't be able to get your point than the talk of your own inevitable mortality, "I don't. If nothing else, time will make the decision for me."

"Do I?" he muses, aloof in his contemplation as always albeit there's a hint of mirth to his voice.

"All it will take for you to live forever is some maintenance, maybe a couple hardware and software updates," you shrug, "And even if I'm gone and the situation doesn't get better, I bet there are people who'd be willing to help you out. You get to choose whether to live or die."

He mulls the idea over with a hint of a smirk that only seems to grow each second.

"Constant updates and replacements, huh?" he huffs, "Didn't you humans come up with the question about the boat that has all its parts replaced?"

You have to admit it takes you a while, but when it clicks, your eyes get wide and your mouth falls open.

"How do you know about the ship of Theseus?"

"What, did you expect me to be an ignorant mesh of wires and artificial tissue? After all the books you gave me access to?" he scoffs, looking almost offended.

"Well, no, but I also haven't expected to hear about ancient Greek philosophical problems from you," you concede. Maybe you shouldn't be as surprised as you are. After all, Minghao has always been very interested in reading. Almost as much as you’ve been interested in seeing the effect fantasy would have on his artificial brain. But that's long in the past.

"Why have me read those books if you never cared to discuss them with me?" he asks like it's been bothering him for a while now.

"Our sessions were always recorded. I had certain privileges, but most of them weren't for all the higher ups to know about," you shrug, "And after a while I was sure you wouldn't mention anything on your own."

"You trusted me a lot, hm?" he smirks, "Was that why you ran away with me?"

You huff, roll your eyes. He does seem genuinely curious though. You're not sure you want to answer. 

"Did you fall for me?" he moves to walk in front of you, "That's what they made us for."

"We both know why I went with you," you sigh, pushing on his shoulder and he steps aside easily, falling back in step with you. He has a small smile on his face. Maybe you should’ve teased him and said yes. The good vibes don’t last for too long. You can feel the shift in the air.

"Do you regret it?"

You're not brave enough to look at him. The tone of his voice is enough.

"No, I don't," you answer honestly, "I think this is good for both of us."

This time it's not you holding his hand, but him squeezing yours.

It feels nice.

You squeeze back.

Your suspicion that he was bothered by the fact that you never discussed the literature you provided him access to is proven correct not too long afterwards. 

It’s raining outside, the humid air blows in through the open windows as you eat dinner in silence. Minghao joins you at some point and he seems nervous. You give him the time to collect his thoughts until he’s ready to talk.

He starts off casually, with small talk completely unrelated to the real issue but you don’t push him. Honestly you’re happy even if he’s clearly having a lot of emotions, he’s not snapping at you. You also have to stop yourself for the nth time from making a list of human behavior you discover each day as right now he’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at a frayed thread of the tablecloth.

Then, finally, he asks the question - could you talk about the books?

“Unless you haven’t read them, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly flustered by your curious gaze.

“I mean you never told me which ones you’ve read,” you grin, and you find yourself enjoying him squirming in front of you, here and now, when you know the anxiety stems from wanting to be understood and to make a connection instead of uncertainty about the future. Not for the first time you find the automaton cute. “I haven’t read all the books I gave you access to, but I read most of them, so try your luck. Which ones were your favorite?”

He relaxes, his features soften as well. He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm.

“This isn’t one of our interviews,” he reminds you playfully, “Which ones are yours?”

You laugh but you’ll give him this one. You answer and he asks another question, prodding for more information like you usually would. It’s not what you expected, but you play along. Unlike you back then, he carefully checks in with you if this is okay - his eyes find yours and he tilts his head, his fingers brush against yours or he gently touches your knee - and he actively participates in the conversation and discussion. 

You wonder if things would be different if this was the approach you used in the facility. If you treated him more like a human and less like a guinea pig, a new prototype or a petri dish. And he must’ve noticed because when you part ways at the top of the stairs, way too late into the night, or rather early morning, after many hours spent talking, he suddenly stops you before you can leave to your room and says: “This wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work with you like that.”

“I know,” you acknowledge, “The higher-ups wouldn’t let me work like this either. Not with you.”

When he reaches for your hand, you take it. You don’t know if he finds comfort in the gentle squeeze you share before parting for real this time, but you think you might.

Out of the many issues and unspoken things you need to address, the wound in Minghao’s chest remains to be the top priority. He doesn’t mention it often, except in passing when even the bandage fails and it catches on the frayed artificial tissue. He seems embarrassed about it in a way that you know all too well. You also hate asking for help, also hate when you need to be taken care of.

So you sit him down one day and make him take his shirt off again, rolling your eyes - again - at the teasing remarks he tries to hide the flush crawling up his skin. It’s getting easier not to wonder about why they had to be made this human-like.

“I’m fine!” he full-on whines when you try to touch the edges of the wound, slapping your hands away. You heave a sigh, hands on your hips. 

“Listen, buddy-” you start but your words die into laughter at the offended look Minghao sends you.

“Minghao,” you try again, and he nods for you to continue, “We can’t just keep it like that. It hurts.”

“Yeah but only sometimes. And you already said you can’t help,” he shrugs, “Besides it’s just me who’s hurting.”

You do understand that. You’ve used the same excuse too. But he’s not you.

On the other hand, he is right. He let you look at the wound before and it seems like while he did a pretty good job of tearing the device out of his chest, some of the nerve-like wires remained meshed in the surrounding tissue and that’s what’s causing the pain. You can’t imagine doing the extraction yourself. Perhaps back at the beginning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cause him so much pain now. 

…Honestly you sometimes wonder who out of you two needs training in how to be a human.

You stay silent for a while, having a short staring contest before you run your hand through your hair and accept your defeat. At least to some extent.

“Friends care for each other,” you inform him before removing the bandage from his body before securing it around his torso again, a little tighter just to keep all the peeling pieces pressed together. He hisses in pain but stays still. It seems he’s more occupied by processing your words than by the pain. “So let me care for you, hm? You might not die but let’s keep you functioning for as long as we can.”

He scoffs but ends up smiling anyway.

“I think you should be more worried about taking care of yourself. I don’t think the food you keep eating here is exactly healthy,” he’s teasing, you know, but something about it seems honest too.

“Maybe, but it’s easier to just add water and heat it up than get the ingredients, prepare them, cook, wash up, and all that jazz,” you defend your supply of instant foods. Although it’s true that your stock is beginning to run low and you probably will need to go shopping soon. You dread it, but at the same time you have a feeling Minghao might enjoy a little trip further away from the cottage.

“I can help,” he offers, “If you show me how.”

“Seems like you want to keep me around for a long time,” you dismiss the offer just so you don’t have to pay attention to how hopeful his voice sounded or how attentively he was watching you. You hope he’ll bicker with you, tease you, push back with more snark, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lets you finish the work on his bandages.

If your hands tremble and each fleeting touch against his body lingers, neither of you mention it.

It almost seems like Minghao’s been waiting to use your words against you when a couple days later he joins you under the roof of the patio while the storm is raging only a few meters away, drenching the ground with rain. He brings your favorite tea set with you. 

He’s noticed your love for tea, has often asked you to describe the various kinds of it and the flavors, but you never thought it’d come to this.

He sets it all down - the bottle of water, the kettle and the pack of your favorite tea leaves, the glass teapot, and the dark clay one and matching cups - and it surprises you to see he brought two cups. It makes you confused until you notice the tea pet and it gives you a pretty good idea of what he’s planning. You don’t comment on the red hue collecting on the tips of his ears. 

“Friends care for each other,” he murmurs while he sits down next to you. He looks at you and moves closer, your knees bumping together. When you don’t move away, he relaxes and focuses on the tea.

He pours the water into the kettle and lets it boil. You notice he set it to stop at the exact temperature he wants - that the tea requires. He measures the right amount of tea leaves for the teapot he picked while it boils, and when the water is done he first fills the cups and the teapots with the hot water. Then he pours it out before gently placing the tea leaves into the clay teapot and pouring the hot water in again. Almost straight away, he pours the tea into the glass one. 

You watch him and notice he seems nervous. So you decide to make it worse, or comfort him, whatever will be the effect. You put your hand on his knee carefully, startling him regardless. He looks worried before you smile at him: “You’re doing good so far.”

He seems reassured, giving you a grateful smile himself as he pours the first infusion over the little clay frog sitting at the corner of the tea tray. The next infusion he pours into the cups and hands you one, almost dropping it when your fingers brush together.

“Thank you,” you hum, “You’re a fast learner.”

“I just had enough chances to see you do it,” he shakes his head before nodding towards the tea leaves, “I just wasn’t sure I picked the right kind. I noticed you don’t wash all of them.”

“You did. I would help if there was a need but you’re a natural,” you praise, watching as his ears turn redder.

“And you don’t mind if I pretend with you like this?” he swirls the tea in his cup. He won’t look at you, so you make him. Slowly, you move closer to him until you can lay your head on his shoulder. It’s a light touch, he can move away if he wants to. He doesn’t, although his body gets tense.

“Why would I mind?” you say and realize just how comfortable you feel in this moment, “Isn’t this the perfect mood to sit here like this?”

Finally he melts just a little, leaning his head against yours, featherlight and cautious. You’d never guess he’d be this affectionate once comfortable, but lately it feels like his true personality is coming out more and more and you can’t say you dislike it. He doesn’t say anything, instead he leans closer again and rubs his head against yours, just for a second.

You take a sip of the tea and you hate to admit that his exact measurements make it taste better than when you prepare it. It doesn’t happen that you smile without realizing, but since leaving the facility, well, it seems like a lot of things are changing.

When you finish your cup and set it down on the tray again, he quietly pours the content of his cup over the little frog. Somehow it reminds you of him a little.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Time passes.

You start to lose track of days and they blend together seamlessly. Has it been months? Years? Who knows. Minghao probably does, but he couldn’t care less. He only mentions the time since the breakout whenever you readjust the bandages on his chest. It almost seems like he’s healing, the compression seems to work a little even on the artificial tissue, although you know that until the remaining wires of the communication device are removed, it will always remain a trouble. He reassures you it’s alright every time and you learn to trust him to express himself truthfully.

He started exploring the outside on his own too. It seems to help him tremendously with dealing with… well, everything. It takes time, you know, and fortunately that’s the one thing that you have in abundance now. Nonetheless, he always seems to appreciate your company, be it on the walks, inside, or on the trips you take sometimes. Usually it’s only to the village to get new supplies of food, but you both remain cautious and even that fills you with adrenaline - among other things.

The locals really make you realize just how indistinguishable from a human Minghao looks. You doubt any of them recognize him for what he truly is, and maybe that’s in part why he always prefers to spend time alone after each of these trips. The highlight for you personally is the older lady who you buy vegetables from that seems to think of you two as the new married couple that just moved in. You make it a competition to see who gets flustered first, though there’s really no shame in losing. Not when Minghao cups your face and squishes your cheeks or hugs you when you begin to stutter - not when you mess with his hair or hold his hand when he’s lost for words.

Life is peaceful.

You think some parts of you are healing, just as Minghao is. He’s getting better at understanding that there’s chaos within peace and peace to be found amidst chaos. He’s learning to experience the emotions he’s suppressed for so long, the good and bad, to let them pass through even if it’s scary and uncomfortable. You try to be helpful. You give him space when he needs it, you talk if that’s what he needs, or let him lay his head on your lap or shoulder if he’s too scared to be left alone with the pandemonium inside his mind.

There are good days and there are bad days. Yet you both grow to be grateful for both.

And there are cold days and warm days too, and on the warm ones, you sometimes sleep outside.

It’s something you’ve never done before and something you now know you'd miss terribly if you could never do it again. Minghao loves it. His excitement remains infectious, which probably adds to your fondness for the warm nights on Silvestre.

Especially nights like this one when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the stars shine brightly above you. The galaxy expands above your heads and it makes you think of the past, of the future, and you understand why the automaton used to be so wary of emotions. They’re overwhelming for you too.

“If they ever catch us, what will you tell them?” Minghao breaks the silence. It’s not often that you talk about the facility anymore, but when you do it’s almost exclusively in whispers under the stars.

“Hm… Depends,” you hum.

“Depends on what?” he turns his head towards you.

“Depends on what will be most likely to get them to allow me to stay and keep working with you,” you mirror his action, “If that means telling them the whole truth about how you’ve done here, I will do that. If that means lying a little, then so be it.”

“Will you tell them the truth about the escape too?” he smirks. But you’re more than ready for the challenge.

“I will them them you kidnapped me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I will them you used force to make me come with you.”

“I didn’t!” he shoots up, sitting upright and looking at you, upset and distressed, “I didn’t have to, you went willingly!”

“I told you,” you smirk, shrugging, “I will tell them what I need to tell them to keep my job.”

Seeing as he remains upset, however, you reach out for him and stroke his arm. He gives you a wary look, one that he always gives you when you brush against a nerve. You smile apologetically at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He scoffs, lying back down with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything to keep your job but not to keep me.”

“That would suggest I had you in the first place,” your lips stretch further, teasing lilt finding its way into your voice as Minghao freezes and avoids your gaze, “Does this count as a confession, Haohao?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. You don’t listen.

“Besides, you are my job. Unless you want to be my pet, my-” you don’t get to offer him other alternatives as he springs from his spot and leans over you, holding himself up with one hand on either side of your body, kneeling next to you.

“Your?” he quirks a brow at you. It’s much harder to stand your ground when he drops the shy act, or maybe just puts on this confident one, but you do anyway.

“What would you like to be, hm? Give me some ideas,” you hum. He sighs, deliberately letting his head fall lover until his hair tickles your skin.

“I would like to be listened to,” he suggests, making you laugh. 

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends push each other’s buttons,” you chide playfully. You feel comfortable. Even with him hovering above you, you feel safe and content. It’s unreal that not so long ago this would be unthinkable. 

“I don’t think we’re friends,” and it’s only the statement, plain and simple. You smile. You really do feel comfortable. It’s a new feeling. And it’s refreshing.

“Isn’t there enough unspoken things between us as is?” you don’t tease anymore. 

“So you have a name for this?” he tilts his head, his smile mirroring yours because he knows you don’t. You admit your defeat with a shake of your head and don’t push him off when he lies down again, only this time with his head resting on your stomach. You’re nice enough to run your fingers through his hair too. He leans into your touch in appreciation.

You stay silent, watching the stars twinkling above. You like this. You could stay like this, you think, and live your life satisfied and happy. But could you? Isn’t that what you both thought before too? Maybe there’s danger here that you’re just not seeing yet. You don’t want to lose this. Then again, it’s not like you can find the answer and the solution at this very moment. Not when you’re distracted by how soft Minghao’s hair feels between your fingers and the feeling of his fingers playing with yours when he inevitably searches for your hand. Maybe it’s about time you came to terms with the fact that he’s right - you’d rather keep him than any job.

You think about where the future could take you until your eyes close and you fall asleep.

There must be some sort of telepathy connecting you two because he brings up the future himself some time later.

You sit down and discuss everything: Are the people at the facility still looking for you? Is there a chance they could find you here? Does anyone remember him anymore - would they recognize him? Is there anywhere else you could go?

There are endless questions and very few answers. Plenty of books and a projector with what seems like an endless supply of old movies and shows are great for entertainment, but suck at providing information about the current situation across your solar system. 

So you work with the worst scenarios each time.

It doesn’t matter much because the outcome you agree on would likely be the same in any case - you can’t stay here forever.

Minghao seems as mournful about it as you feel but you can’t run away from the truth forever. Just because nobody should know about this and nobody bothered you here yet doesn’t mean it will never happen. Not to mention the other factors.

“I wanna see more,” Minghao admits quietly, his hands playing with yours to ease his anxiety, “I like it here. But I’m afraid I’ll feel trapped again if we stay.”

You nod. That’s true, of course. And you can understand his desire to see more - to learn more. It’s one of the things you have in common.

“Do you have anywhere you want to explore?” you ask, supportive as can be because he needs it. Because you want this too.

“Does your family have any other secret mansion?” he might be teasing, but you know he hopes you’ll say yes. It would make things much easier.

“No,” you sigh, then you smile, “So that means we’re completely free. If we have nowhere to go, we might as well go anywhere.”

He might’ve changed quite a bit, yet the soft glow of his happiness never did. He lets his body fall forward and curl against yours. You chuckle and wrap an arm around him.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder. 

“Me too,” you feel a flutter in your chest. It’s like you’re a child again, being told you’re going on a trip but the destination is a surprise. It’s like you’re back at the facility, before you knew any better, being told you’re going to work with a level 1 automaton but you won’t know which one until Monday. “Let’s do some research and get going?”

“Yeah,” he hums against your skin, “But only after one last night outside. I can’t leave before that.”

Now that’s a sentiment you can relate to.

[bordysbae]

Could you do 53 and 54 combined, with Mark Estapa? Please and thank you 💋

“can i be your boyfriend?”

mark estapa x fem!reader

53. yeah i like you dipshit

54. i want you, not them

disclaimer: i’m so sorry this is definitely one of my least favorites i’ve written, but it’s been in my inbox for a few days and i felt like i need to write it sooner than later? i’ve been pretty sick lately so i truly apologize if this is actually dog shit ugh. ALSO!!! emma is a fake character, idek if ethan has cousins LOL

—

you and mark aren’t dating, but everyone can clearly see that you guys like each other, it’s just a matter of time until you both admit it. normally you aren’t one to get jealous, but something clicked tonight when you saw him talking to her.

ethan’s cousin came to visit him at college, and this isn’t the first time she’s been here either. last year when she came to visit for her winter break, which started a week before michigans, she had everyone’s attention. all the guys were swooning over her, but of course she chose mark. at that time you were nothing with mark, just a close friend with all of the guys, so it didn’t bother you. they never ended up working out since mark thought ethan would be pissed, and he didn’t want to do long distance on top of that.

at the beginning of this semester you and mark became very close friends, and you both developed feelings. neither of you wants to admit it, but it’s just sort of a known fact that you’re bound to date. you guys have seen other people, but once you both began hooking up it stayed that way. you haven’t seen anyone else since you guys first hooked up, and neither has he. but now you’re not so sure, since mark seems perfectly content with her obvious flirting.

you begin to chug your drink as she laughs at whatever he said to her. you can’t imagine anything mark estapa said is that funny, so obviously she’s faking it. “you need to relax, he wouldn’t do that to you y/n,” dylan says to you as he takes a sip from his red solo cup.

“dylan you saw how obsessed they were with each other last year, and it doesn’t help that she’s prettier than me! she looks like a fucking instagram model!” you throw your head back as you place the cup to your lips, finishing the last of your drink.

“relax, she’s not prettier than you. she gets botox and her hair color is fake” dylan chuckles.

“oh dylan you’re such a woman, i love you!” you exclaim as you wrap your arms around the boy. he lets out a laugh and scruffs up the top of your hair.

“let’s go get more drinks yeah?”

“oh hell yeah, i need a lot more to be able to watch this shit” you groan, making dylan chuckle. on your way into the kitchen you both run into luke and tj.

“ah my favorite hughes!” you reply, buzzed a little bit. “hi y/n, hey duker!” luke says.

“y/n did you hear em-“ tj begins to say. “shut up tj, yeah i know she’s here. i don’t really care buddy” you roll your eyes and scoff. you excuse yourself from the conversation before you show anymore jealousy.

you cant stand how much the boys talk about her. it’s always “emma this!” “emma that!” like honestly who cares? you assume ethan isn’t very happy with her at the moment either, so you go find him once you refill your drink. you spot him on the stairs looking bored out of mind as he talks to some random girl, so you decide to save him from his misery, “ethan!” you shout to grab his attention. he instantly turns around and excuses himself from the conversation with the girl. “thank fucking god, you’re my lord and savior!” he exclaims, pretending to bow down to you making you laugh.

“why aren’t you with mark? i feel like at every party you’re always under his arm” ethan asks, taking a sip from his drink.

“he’s uh, with your cousin”

“he is? of course” ethan chuckles. although he’d never admit it, ethan isn’t too fond of his cousin. she’s very touchy with all of his teammates and friends, but since she’s family there’s not much he can do about it.

“yeah, they’re over there” you say pointing to the living room full of drunken people vaping and dancing. emma and mark are sat on one of the couches, and that’s when you notice her hand on marks bicep. that throws you overboard, and makes your blood boil.

“oh you’re kidding” you mumble. ethan turns to you and gives you a confused look.

“what’d you say? i cant hear you over the music.” he says leaning down to hear you better.

“ethan flirt with me!” you blurt out, making ethan spit his drink back in his cup.

“pardon?” he asks, thinking he’s maybe had too much alcohol and is beginning to hear things.

“i said flirt with me! i need to make mark jealous”

“you’re gonna get me killed, y/n!” he cries out.

“and whys that? it’s not like me and mark are dating or anything! we’ve been hooking up, i caught feelings which everyone knows about, and now he’s all over your cousin. so i don’t really see why i cant flirt with you!” you shrug

“i cant tell you why but i just cant do that to him!”

“well he hasn’t been a man and told me he likes me, soooo just flirt with me for christ sake! i’ll go find some random guy to flirt with me if you won’t!”

“no no don’t do that, the guys here are sketchy. fine i’ll flirt with you, but if mark kills me you better speak at my fucking funeral”

“attaboy!” you say playfully hitting his chest.

you and ethan begin fake flirting, and it’s only when you lean into his ear to whisper something that drives mark over the edge. you’ve seen him glaring at you both a few times, but now he’s storming over to you guys.

“eddy what the fuck are you doing?” he drunkenly yells at ethan, making ethan’s eyes go wide. “see i told you he’d kill me! get mad at her man not me! y/n explain it to him” ethan proclaims.

“mark can we just go outside” you roll your eyes at him, he nods his head in annoyance and follows you out onto the porch. you sit against the wall and mark sits down next to you. “the fuck was all that? are we nothing to you?” mark says.

“oh you’re fucking funny mark! you’re one to talk! don’t go blaming me for this shit! first of all, we aren’t even dating so i don’t know why you’re so pissed at me! and sec—“ you begin, but mark cuts you off, “well—“

you then interrupt him back, “i’m not done talking shh! as i was saying, second of all, you were all over emma! you didn’t even seem to mind that her hand was on your arm, and that she was laughing at every fucking thing you said! so no mark, this isn’t my fault and dont accuse me of assuming we’re nothing! i like you, dipshit! is that so hard to see?! i’ve liked you for months now! i don’t want you with anyone else, so i wanted to make you jealous! im not used to seeing you with other girls mark, it’s always me under your arm not emma!” you cry out, now standing up pacing the deck.

“i like you too dumbass! i was planning to ask you out on a date and tell you how i felt, maybe even ask you to be my girlfriend, but then stupid emma came back to town and ruined it! i’m sorry i made you feel that way, but it also hurt me seeing you all over my best friend. girls use me to get to ethan sometimes, and i don’t think you’d do that but it just struck a nerve i guess.” he explains, now standing up as well.

“why did you let her be all over you?”

“i don’t really have an answer if i’m being honest. i didn’t even think about it, i’m really sorry. i get it if you’re pissed at me, i would be too.”

“i’m not pissed at all i’m just annoyed. not necessarily at you, just at everyone. they all kiss the ground she walks on and it’s just fucking annoying. i’m sorry for everything mark, i promise im not mad at you” you say, looking up at the 6’2” boy.

mark looks down at you, and cups your cheeks, “i want you, not emma. know that.” he then leans down to kiss you, and you return the act. his hands remain on your cheeks, and your hands find their way to the back of his nec. you both taste like a mixture of alcohols, but you’re both too far in the moment to even notice.

he pulls back for air and smiles down at you and your slightly swollen lips. “so what do you say, will you be my girlfriend? actually no scratch that, can i be your boyfriend?” he smiles cheesily, way too proud of himself for his romcom of a proposal.

“you’re so cringe, but yes i would love for you to be my boyfriend estapa!” you giggle, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck.

[bright-and-burning]

i want to hear more abt the light betw the lines!!! my hand is raised, me me pick on me, i want to know all your favorite parts and every implication!!!

u get the bits i wrote while at work before i got too overstimulated to be alive fjkldsajf. have some of the direct implications that foreshadow the ending (spoilers, obvi):

Lando drags his eyes back to the table. Three pairs of hopeful eyes stare up at him; Kimi's even raised his head enough to pull out the pleading puppy look. “We just did Mindfulness Monday. Like, two days ago, you muppets. All I do is distract you.” “Yeah, but I could almost feel it Monday, and yesterday I couldn’t even visualize anything.”

here’s big hint #1 :) the Twos find it so much easier to work on finding their Development when lando’s there… but surely they just like having him around. right ? right…

The landscape lights up, red and orange and the odd turquoise of dying Rifted.

when Rifted explode/burn there’s an odd turquoise tinge to the flame. nicoisms…

Lando’s got a kind of—instinct, maybe, for being in the right spot. For avoiding being in the wrong spot. Not a real Development. Just a feeling. Like being able to hear a high pitched sound no one else can. He calls it paying attention, these days.

this is also kind of a hint? it relates to how lando sort of visualizes using his power, later on, when he can Feel/See the people and Rifted around him. he’s a very visual thinker in this as a whole tbh. to ME it’s kind of like. he’s good at dodging trouble bc he’s subconsciously feeling out the source of Developments/things that radiate uh. Development Vibes. 

They’re both still shaken up; Lando had told Jenson point blank they weren’t going out for two days, minimum. Piastri spent most of it in bed with a migraine, according to Ollie, who mutters something about ���direct volume” and “acute exposure” between bites of his dinner. Lando feels a little bad for the mental shouting; he hadn’t thought Piastri was that tuned in, at a distance.

wow… crazy… lando louder in oscar’s head than he expected to be… lando louder in oscar’s head than anyone else… lando breaking thru oscar’s carefully built control over how his Development works/how he lets people into his head… couldn’t possibly be because lando’s amplifying oscar’s power around him…

Lando’s walked his own maze a thousand times, to no end. He’s still plenty happy to spend the evening making snarky comments.

OH THIS BIT… ok so this whole section kind of alludes to whole the process of Developing but specifically. everyone’s got these visual cues right? in their mindscape or w/e. their maze. that give hints as to what they’re in for, Development wise. doriane’s seeing colorful misshapen blobs bc she’s looking at the world from the perspective of being nearly microscopic. kimi’s missing color cuz he’s looking at force fields. these mental mazes are Just You tho. completely isolated inside your head. and lando’s Development doesn’t work inside a vacuum. can’t amplify without someone to amplify. so he’s got nothing. no hints. nada. which is why he thinks he’s a dud. despite already having Developed.

Lando pictures walls all around him. Thick ones, all reinforced steel and sealed exits, cold and familiar. He slams the last door in Piastri’s face. Not that it helps. Nothing Lando’s tried has helped. If he were feeling more charitable, he’d acknowledge that Piastri’s trying, too. That nothing either of them do is helping.

wrow… nothing either of them do can quiet lando’s voice in oscar’s head huh… cwazy…

“And Robert could, like, scream?” Lando raises an eyebrow. “Eardrum bursting, concussion-inducing stuff. Not fucking ‘ahhh.’” “You wear earplugs with the helmet, though?” “Sound’s transmittable by thought, apparently. Two months of medical leave for that one.”

sound’s transmittable by thought!!! most key aspect of the set up for the end to not be too much of a massive like deus ex machina (hopefully) (idek if that’s the right phrase . i’m not looking it up). and i came up w it on ACCIDENT trying desperately to come up w powers for oscar’s old partners 😭 and then i was like. omfg. this helps explain how the ending Works. cuz if lewis' power is audio wave related then it's key that actual sound is transmittable, not just like. thought2thought communication. if that makes sense.

The screeching of the Rifted is joined by a nauseatingly high-pitched whining noise. The noise kicks up a notch, screeching turning to shrieking. Lando could not have marked a difference, before today.

big reveal number one!!!! oscar uses lando to project a horrible noise to try and distract the Rifted!!!!! woo! sound baby!

He thought amplifying Lewis’ audio waves at the center would shut it down.

we return to sound… and my really really bastardized physics lol.

Something large and swirling ahead of him, turquoise and violent steel.

*touches ground* nico rosberg’s been here. no but really this is supposed to be like. well this is the gap between universes or whatever, and it’s turquoise bc nico ripped it wide open and got sucked tf in in turn. leaving a kind of. aural trace or whatever. that’s why when Rifted burn there’s this weird turquoise tinge to the flames

and then u get big reveal #2 and all that resolution and hopefully it feels deeply satisfying bc you've been picking up at least some of the clues subconsciously the whole time :) hopefully. i probably missed some other Implications in doing this on my phone but i hope this was interesting at least :)

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Ek! I've been obsessed with epic lately and your Ronin fic! It's saddens me to see that the movie isn't as popular as I thought it'd be. But your fanfic made me so happy!!! You don't mind if I request a Finn (Ronin second in command) x reader right??? Idek why but I'm in love with him lol- luv Ur works btw

Mr.Loverman | Finn

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Reader: female

Warnings: language, arguing

Notes: being in love with Finn is valid, also this is extremely corny, and will probably make a part two who knows at this point with me, also sorry this took so long i've been working crazy hrs.

✧▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬✧

The sun was rising; and Y/n was running, bag slung around her shoulder she ran as fast as her feet would carry her. She made it to the Black-Smithin Wood working shop.

"I'm here!" She shouted, her feet stopping but she didn't as she went sliding across the ground, almost tripping.

It was quiet as she fixed herself: "Only a minute to spare," the old man called, pocket watch in hand.

Y/n sighed in relief as she was quick to make her way to the back: tossing her bag on an empty chair before grabbing her apron.

"Come on, let's get to work now." He spoke Y/n, nodding, tying her apron around her as she made her way over.

Work was unusually busy that day, perhaps the worlds punishment for being on time by the skin of her teeth. It was: smelt that, smelt this. I need this repaired. Oh, this too, please. Could you carve into the handle for me? My sickle broke dear help me out? I want this made into a ring for my wife, can you do that? I broke my tables leg, help me please? She did it all, too, more jobs put more food on the table, and gave her extra coins to spend. Yet by lunch, she was worn out: groaning with her head in the wood carving table. A wooden doll sat in front of her: it waiting to be painted and decorated.

"Take a break kid." The old man spoke.

Y/n looked at the doll: "I'll finish this first."

Getting herself up she walked towards the shelves of paint.

"Excuse me!" A man's voice called.

"I'll be right with you sir!" Y/n called back.

"I've got it kid!" The old man called back, setting down his own work to go and take the order.

Y/n grabbed the small bowls of paint needed; she was quick to rush over to her workstation; balancing two much for comfort on her arms. With luck and no spills, she set the doll down on her workstation along with the paint. Going back for paint brushes.

"Please sir I'm begging you." The man spoke; "I just need a repair that's all."

The plead caught Y/n's ears, yet she stayed out of it; she knew some things just weren't possible, and it wasn't often but a necessity to turn some people down.

"Look I'm sorry son but there ain't much I can do for you."

"Nothing?"

Y/n frowned, but kept quiet, starting the painting of the doll, it was meant to be of yellow skin, with a white daisy flower hat turned upside down, with a little white daisy coat. She heard her boss hum; the last hope many had.

"Please Sir It's been my family for years, It was my mothers."

She set the paint brush down discarding her work, and stood up, making her way over.

"I'm really sorry but It's just-"

"Excuse me." Y/n cut in.

Her boss turned her way and so did the man; he dressed in Leaf man armor; a fresh cut across the face, battered and bruised. Other Leaf men lounged behind him; exhausted and urging the man to just get another one as they wanted to go home and rest.

"May I take a look at it?" Y/n asked.

"Kid, it ain't gonna happen." The old man tried to persuade.

"Well. Let me take a look." Y/n answered the old man backing up to return to work.

Y/n took the old mans spot at the counter, "Hi." Y/n greeted.

The man stood frozen; "hello?" y/n asked with a smile.

"Hello- sorry-" He spoke.

Y/n smile grew; "May I look at your situation?"

"Uh, of course, yes." He spoke.

Y/n was in shock as the sword was laid in front of her; in pieces. Both hilt and blade broken; cracked, spilt- a disaster. A plain disaster.

"By Mother nature..." Y/n mumbled, she looking up at the Leaf man; "I would recommend you a new one; but...it's...fixable...sure. If you don't mind me adding a bit of metal to it and... such... I can keep as much of it original as I can. It'll look brand new I promise, and take a spare for about a week?"

"Really!?" He asked excitedly.

Y/n nodded; "Yeah, if you don't mind the wait that is."

"I don't no as long as it can be fixed." He was quick to answer, Y/n chuckling at his enthusiasm.

"Then it seems like we have a deal." Y/n answered, ducking behind the desk to find a tag she filled out, "Can I get a name?"

"Finn." He told, Y/n nodding.

"Well, Finn." Y/n started; "I'm Y/n, and I'll be the one working on your smithing and woodwork here."

"how much?" Was his next question.

Y/n rocked her head back and forth in thought; it was a hefty job; a week worth of long nights and missed dinners; "uh..." She looked up at him, the cut on his face starting to bleed again.

"Let's say...clean that cut up and I'll call it even?" Y/n asked.

Finn reached for his face, the blood seeping through his gloves, he quick to apologize for it.

"I'll see you here in a week then Finn?" Y/n asked.

"Thank you." He responded, still holding his face; "Really, thank you."

"No problem." Y/n answered, "Now go clean your face; there's not a cute girl to come and save you from fainting of blood loss."

Finn chuckled as she watched her grab the pieces and make her way back to her work.

"Come on Finn!"

"I'm coming!"

Y/n set the pieces down on another table; rearranging them to fit how they should have and sighed, "You're stupid for taking that." Her boss told her.

"I know..." Y/n groaned, hands coming up to rub her face.

"Especially without payment."

"I know!" Y/n whined, groaning louder as she took a seat; "I felt so bad."

"Good thing you're not running the place."

She sighed as she let her chin rest in her hands as she looked at the weapon. When a slip of paper caught the corner of her eye.

"Aw shit..." she grumbled, "I forgot to give him his pick-up ticket."

"He's a leaf man. It can't be hard to find him." Her boss told her: "They have barracks you know."

Y/n sighed as she set the slip down and walked to go finish her other work, she sat herself back down to paint, the woman who ordered it for her child would be here soon enough. She worked diligently till it was finished and set it out to dry in the sun out back before returning to other work, and when the woman came up to pick up the doll, Y/n held it out with two hands for the woman to inspect.

"Woah! It looks just like big sissy!" The little boy cheered.

"It's for you, I know how much you miss her while she's gone on her adventures." His mother smiled.

"Really!?" He cheered, the mother nodding as Y/n leaned down to hand it to the boy.

"She's brand new," Y/n told.

He cheered as he took it with excitement and gave it a big hug, Y/n couldn't help but smile, "Thank you so much dear."

Y/n nodded; "it's no problem really- just don't tell him she's magic." Y/n started.

It pipped the little boys interest; "really!? She's Magic!?"

Y/n looked around to make sure no one heard her; "Don't tell anybody; but I heard every toy that comes out of here? It's magic, I heard it's in the wood. They help the gardens grow; the queens little helpers ya know?"

"really!?" He asked looking up at her.

"Oh yeah," Y/n answered, "See that old man back there?"

The boy looked over the counter; "With the beard?"

Y/n nodded; "He's the only one who knows how to get the wood, they say he's as old as the forest itself. he'll be here before us, and he'll be here after us. You can't tell anyone though alright?"

The boy nodded; "Now, go show your new little garden helper around." Y/n smiled.

With a final nod from the boy he looked up at his mom; "Thank you again Miss." She spoke handing Y/n the payment.

"No problem Ma'am." Y/n smiled, quick to put it in the bowl hidden behind the counter; "Come again."

"I always do."

Y/n chuckled watching the boy run off with his mom close in tail, he excitedly showing her the doll. Y/n turned around to get back to work; "Lets call it a day." The man spoke.

"It's early?"

"The sun will be setting soon."

Y/n shrugged; "I'll stay and finish what I need to."

"You mean finish tomorrows orders and start on the sword."

"...maybe."

He sighed; "you can't work all the time."

"I can sure try?" Y/n answered, causing him to shake his head in disbelief.

"I want this shop closed at dark and you at least on your way home." He ordered; "And bring that Leaf man his slip before you start on anything."

"Okay."

Y/n watched him leave; he complained about his back pain on the way out. She redirected her attention to across the room and at the sword. The best option was to get that ticket to the Leaf man and quick. Grabbing her bag and pulling off her apron she set it on it's hook, and slipped the ticket into her bag before leaving the shop, putting a "be back" sign up instead of the closed sign.

It took her asking around a bit from the usual patrolling soldiers, she unsure of which way she was actually meant to go. With her luck, one was able to give her the directions, and with a quick thank you Y/n made her way to the barracks with ease. Before she even entered the general area she was stopped.

"No civilians ma'am." The woman spoke.

"you idiot!" The second woman punched her shoulder; "Thats the blacksmith and wood worker's worker."

"Sorry-"

Y/n laughed; "no problem really, could you point me in the direction of Finn please?"

"He's with the Commanding Officer and the Queen." The first woman told, "Debriefing."

Y/n nodded; "is there somewhere I can wait?"

"There's a bench right outside the room, I'll take you." The second spoke, starting to walk away.

Y/n followed closely behind, she lead through the busy barracks and into the halls of the castle; past the armory, she tempted to take a quick peak despite passing the open doors. They turned down a second hall and down the long hall somewhere in the middle of it there was a large set of double doors, and benches on both sides of the door.

"You can wait here." She spoke.

"Thanks." Y/n told, taking a seat and watching the solider leave.

Her hands sat in her lap; she wondered how long it would take. Maybe a few minutes? Maybe just another hour? Maybe it would end now? Her anxiety grew with every moment; she taking to rubbing an open palm in her lap- she had work to do, she couldn't sit here forever. Yet she waited; a few minutes past by, then ten, then twenty. Closing into the thirty-minute mark the sun was starting to fall. Looking down the hall and back up it no one was coming. With a sigh she stood up, her legs hurting from not moving so much; and she paced the doors length for a few minutes. Should she leave? No she only waited thirty minutes; maybe at the hour mark she should consider leaving? After all Y/n was doing Finn a favor by fixing the sword in the first place- and with no payment. Maybe she should just come back with the sword when it's done? Another thirty minutes passed as she paced; her mind full of questions; how did it even get so messed up in the first place? Would she make the bar opening? She'd get killed for being late, after all she lived above the place. The sun was setting fast today too; she'd have to make it back to the shop to close it up. Taking a seat, she sighed; how stupid was she? Take a whole job without payment? For what? A cute solider boy? Hadn't she learned from last time?

The door opened; catching her off guard as she was quick to get back up to stand to attention. Hands folded in front of her as she stood quiet.

"Hello." The queen spoke.

Y/n bowed her head; "My Queen."

Tara smiled; "Please, it's late, and I wish to be anything but a Queen right now."

Y/n raised her head up; "Have you been waiting all this time?" Tara asked.

Y/n nodded; "Yes Queen Tara."

"I may be tired, but I'm never too tired to help any of my people, what can I do for you?" Tara asked.

"I'm looking for a solider named Finn; I was told he was in your debriefing." Y/n answered.

Tara moved to the side, Finn standing there; "Ms. Y/n, I wasn't expecting you."

Y/n smiled small; it forced and tired; she felt awkward now; with Tara and Ronin standing there, "I'm sorry to say I haven't started on your order." Y/n started, reaching in her bag to find the ticket.

"But you forgot this, and you'll need it to pick up the order,"

Y/n held out a ticket to him; "Oh...thank you, seems like you really look out for your customers."

"Our customers are more than customers to us; old friends, lovers, sisters and brother." Y/n responded looking back at the queen; "That is it, thank you for your time both of you."

"Ronin here will show you the way out," Tara suggested; "The castle is quite easy to get lost in, it is getting late; I can have one of the Leaf Men escort you."

"I can show her the way, if you wish Queen Tara." Finn stepped up; "I made her wait all this time; it is only fair."

The Queen looked at Y/n who nodded shortly; "I don't see why not."

With a nod of approval, Finn showed Y/n the way. Y/n only glanced behind her momentarily to Ronin, Tara spotted it, no doubt. She took a quick glance at Ronin, who sighed just the slightest, and it was barely noticeable to others. Turning back around to face forward, Y/n continued on. The walk back was quiet mostly. Y/n comfortable with it; Finn not so much.

It wasn't often he was starstruck with anxiety with someone. Especially a woman. It wasn't the first time he had seen her, as a leaf man, that is. Ronin had talked about a Smiths and Woodworks during a dinner, talking about how he wouldn't go anywhere else but there; the old man a wizard with metal and wood, and the woman that worked with him; the one he had been teaching at the time was a Witch with her own work. It was a popular place, somewhere people and patrolling guards passed by often. That's when he saw her, at the ends of her work, loading a cart with a wooden bassinet for a new family. They praised her and thanked her with hugs. it was a pretty thing; its naturally dark wood covered in carvings of leaves and flowers. It was quite an impressive sight. They pulled away to leave; leaving Y/n behind, she waves them off with a bright smile; it rivaled the sun with its warmth; and defeated the forest in its beauty. She was covered in dried paint; soot painted across her cheek from the working, and wood shavings decorated her from head to toe. She had caught him staring that day, she turning to look his way and bid him a good afternoon, her eyes were blue and she had a significantly large strand of ash white hair. She was an oddball out; too loud to blend in with the crowd, ask him a day ago and he'd of said love at first sight is iffy; everyone hopes for it, it's a rare occurrence, ask him that day and he would of told you it's true, and it thrives just off the smallest glace.

"Well here we are." Y/n spoke, the doors to leave the castle and the barracks still guarded by the two women, "I'll see you then-."

"Wait!" he shouted.

"I haven't moved yet," She teased..

"I." He started; "Thank you.."

Y/n nodded; "It's no problem really. You're a customer."

"I'm barely that you're not letting me pay you." Finn answered.

"Call it my good deed for the day." Y/n shot back with a smile.

"Please, let me repay you." Finn told, "Let me get you to anywhere you need to go."

"That's not necessary; you're quite busy here-"

"No! I- most are turning in for the night...I'm not on nightguard, not if Ronin can keep me off it." Finn chuckled; "Perks of being second in command I suppose?"

Finn's heart sank suddenly; watching her face completely drop; she looked...devastated at the mention of Second in Command to Ronin.

"I have to go." Y/n told she starting to walk away.

"Please Ms. Y/n." He spoke grabbing her hand; it was a soft grab; a tug at anyone's heart who was on either end of the hold; "I just want you to be safe wherever you are going to."

Y/n kept her gaze away from him; his thumb rubbing over her knuckles softly; "please." Finn pleaded once again, this third plead, "They say third times a charm?"

Y/n sighed; clearly trying to hold in the chuckle, and she glanced towards him, "okay." She answered him softly.

Finn smiled at her, and she smiled back; at the corner of his eye he realized he was still holding her hand and let go; "The shop. it's uh...that way...I prefer to walk if you don't mind."

"Of course."

They set off together; leaving just in time for Ronin to enter the room and have no idea which direction the couple had went in.

It was a quiet walk again; Finn a bit more careful of his surroundings this time, he in the moment rather than thinking about another.

"So how do you like being a Leaf Man?" Y/n spoke up; trying to make small conversation.

"It's a high reward high risk job." Finn answered as Y/n chuckled, he couldn't stop the smile coming to his face; "it's enjoyable, you make family....How do you like your work?"

"Oh, the Woodworks and Smiths?" Y/n asked.

"You're very good at it." Finn complimented.

"You haven't seen any of my work." Y/n answered looking over at him.

"I brought you in a disaster, you must be talented if you can fix it." Finn told, that caused a smile on her face.

"Thanks." Y/n told, "Truth be told...I enjoy it...and I don't..."

"What's so bad about it?" Finn questioned.

"I don't make to much coin...which usually I wouldn't mind! And kinda don't..." Y/n answered; "Everyone tells me I'm real talented..."

Finn frowned; "But?"

"I don't know...it gets lonely sometimes, I can't burn out even if I want to." Y/n spoke; "I work two jobs, live above a busy bar."

"Why not lighten the load? Quit one?" Finn asked.

"My father died in debt."

"Oh."

Y/n sighed; "yep."

It was silent for a moment as they walked; "Kinda of shitty dad." Finn spoke up.

Y/n chuckled again; "yeah...he was."

"You're nothing like him from what I can tell."

"You know." Y/n started, "You have a funny way of trying to make someone feel better."

"People...arent my strong suit." Finn answered: "but there not a weakness. Just..."

"Stuck in the middle." Y/n spoke.

Finn nodded: "I get that." Y/n told him.

"Nice to know someone else does."

There was a laugh shared between the two, they arriving at the shop which Y/n worked at, “this is the place”

Finn watched her as she opened the door, “Be back,” Finn read the sign aloud.

Y/n looked back; “You’re working into the night?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Y/n answered; “I’ll be here for a little bit longer and then I’ll go to the night job.”

Finn kept himself in the doorway as Y/n grabbed her apron from the hook; “Thanks again, for walking with me-“

“I could talk to the Queen,” Finn spoke up abruptly; “Get you a smithing job in the castle, it’ll-“

“Oh, no, no.” Y/n stopped him; “but it’s a nice gesture really,”

“Why work two jobs-“

“Finn.” Y/n stopped him again: “Please, I’m content like this.”

“Alright.” Finn answered; he discontent with the answer she gave. But he knew it wasn’t his choice; “The offer stands.”

“Thank you.” Y/n thanked, “It’s a little annoying someone looking out for me in a nice way you know?”

A small smile came to Finn’s face as she smiled back, “I’ll…see you around then?” Finn asked.

Y/n nodded; “Yeah I’d love that. It was nice getting to know you, I enjoyed it.” Y/n turned around to get back too work; she assumed that meant fair well; truly believing the only time she’d see him around would be to pick up the sword and they go about there merry lives.

That was until Finn spoke up catching her off guard; “Maybe we could go to lunch?”

Her head whipped around; her body following in delayed reaction, “Me?”

“Certainly not the bowls of paint.”

Y/n chuckled; “I suppose your not…yeah, though; I’d love to go with you. maybe you can pick me up during my break the day after tomorrow? It;s at high noon,”

“That’d be great,” Finn answered; Y/n nodding as he bid his farewell; not paying attention; he too busy watching Y/n that he tripped over the door frame; he luckily catching himself and looking at Y/n who had covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

“Are you okay?” She asked her voice slightly muffled due to her hand.

“I’m good, yeah, perfect!” He answered as he waving a final time and actually leaving.

The smile stayed on her face till she closed the shop; and it lingered as she walked to the bar; and it stayed as the woman shouted at her; she was older and had a thick accent with red hair, “You are late!”

“Huh? Sorry-“

“I should have you fight a bear for being late again; you are lucky we are not open; go and change.” she argued.

Y/n nodded; making her way to the back to go and make it up the stairs; and as she opened the door the woman called too her; “You’re brother is up there as well!”

Yes, he was; a little too late of a notice as he was leaning against the window; looking down below. He turned back towards her; dressed in his usual armor attire; “Ronin…”

“Y/n.”

“Can I help you?” Y /n asked, though it was more of a snap.

“I wanted to make sure you got home-“

Y/n interrupted him with a spurt of a chuckle; “That’s rich, wanna take this job I have now too-“

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure, it wasn’t, I was just the better bow shooter; the better leader; the better war planner; the social skills, the sword skills, all better than you; chose by the past queen herself to be Commanding Officer; but dad deranked me to snail mucus, kicked me out of the Leaf Men and gave you the family sword.” Y/n spoke sarcasm lacing her words as she let the door close behind her, “So I think I can make it home by myself just fine.”

She walked into a different Room: “So why did you come!” She shouted.

“I already told you.” He answered.

Y/n came back out, her shirt changed to a clean on and she held a waitresses apron in hand; she sighing as she looked at him; “I’m fine,” Y/n told.

“Finn wasn’t rude was he-“

“Ronin,” Y/n stopped him; “I’m not talking to you about Finn.”

“He’s my second in command,” Ronin told; “What he does reflects on me,”

Y/n sighed; “You really wanna know?” Y/n asked.

“Yes-“

“I plan on have sex with him after our lunch day after tomorrow.” Y/n answered a hand on her hip, “Is that sufficient enough of answer commander? To be honest I think he made quiet the impression.”

Ronin was silent as she went around to find herself a pad and pencil. She turned back to look at him; he holding an angry glare; “Ronin I’m not sleeping with your second in command, take a damn joke once and a while.”

“You’re going to lunch with him-“

“Alright I’m gonna give you a choice.” Y/n argued; “You can either walk out my home, or I can chuck you threw my window, you’re choice.”

“Y/n-“

“Ronin.” She stopped him; “I will throw you out the window-“

“y/n-"

“Window!? Falling to death!?” Y/n argued, " I'm going to throw you out of it! Go!"

"Y/n!" Her boss called: "your running a very thin line!"

"Y/n just listen-"

"You know what, you can stay up here. I have work!" Y/n argued opening the door, "I'm coming!"

She slammed the door behind her, rushing down the steps. Y/n was quick to open the back door into the kitchen and out onto the floor.

"I'm here!" Y/n told her boss.

"I thought that brother of yours would be punishment enough for being late. Never again."

Y/n sighed: "I'm sorry Red."

Red sighed: "Men, you can live with 'em, you can't live without 'em. Especially when it's a brother. Trust me, I have four boys and two brothers of my own."

Y/n chuckled.

"Now get to work." Red told: "those solider boys always come in at the same time."

She was quick to get to work, and just as Red said Leaf Men came in. They were nice: usually able to get through a few mugs of mead before becoming a loud laughing bunch. Yet one or two mugs knocked them out, seriously: half of them asleep on the table.

"What's wrong with all you today?"

"I hate working." A woman complained.

"One of those days, Ma'am." A man answered.

"You guys want some pie?"

Heads shot up: "You made Pie!?" They asked.

Y/n laughed: "It is a day old."

"Who cares!?" A once sleeping solider told: "Your pies the best!"

"I'll be right back with one six pieces then?" Y/n asked.

"Add another. Our Sargent Major is coming." The man told.

"I'm on it."

She left to go take four more orders from other tables: bringing them back to the kitchen, she went to cut the pie up. Before grabbing other orders, she carried two large trays, one filled with food, the other filled with mugs of mead. Delivering was easy. At the end, she switched the pies over to the tray with the mugs of mead. She was going that way anyhow.

"I'm back with pie-"

"Aw right! You'll love this! Ma'am this is our Sargent Major! It's-"

"Second in command." Y/n spoke: moving the tray from her line of sight: "Nice to see you again, Sir."

Finn chuckled softly: "It's nice to see you again Ms. Y/n."

"Come early for our lunch date?" Y/n asked: "or am I overly excited."

There were whistles and punches of Finn's arm: "Ma'am's here a real lucky woman-"

"Oh please. Sargeant Major's the lucky one, just wait till you try her pie."

"Night Job?" Finn asked, and Y/n nodded.

"Night job." Y/n answered, slowly starting to hand pie out to the group of soldiers.

"Sorry you have to deal with these ones." Finn apologize.

"Oh what ever!" One argued.

"They make my shift go faster." Y/n told, "Anyhow...get you a mug of mead? Something filling besides pie?"

"Pie is-"

Y/n was shoved in the back, and her whole tray shoved out of her hand, maybe it was her trained reaction, all her service time, but with luck she managed to push the tray towards her rather than anyone else. The mugs fell to the floor, and the mead soaked her clothing.

"Oh...shit..."

"Ms. y/n! I am really sorry!" The young woman cried, people looking the way of the mess.

"It's okay! It's fine." Y/n told "really-"

"Are you alright?" Finn asked quickly, getting up to his feet.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine -" y/n started, Finn quick to grab a napkin, yet it was wet, "uh-"

"Hey! Hey!" Red shouted coming from the back: "We've all seen messes alright. It's a bar, not a burlesque show! You go clean up; and you.”

She snapped at another waiter; “Pick up this table, you,” she snapped at the young woman who had ran into Y/n, “Clean this up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t call me that I hate that,” Red argued; walking away; “ma’am what am I an old woman?”

Y/n looked down at herself; “I really am sorry Ms. Y/n.” The young woman apologized.

“No, it’s no problem really; I’ll help you clean,” Y/n told, she quickly kneeling down to help her clean, the woman was quick to follow.

“I didn’t mean to make a fool of you in front of your boyfriend Ms. Y/n.” the woman whispered.

“What?” Y/n asked, picking up mugs and putting them on the tray.

“The gentleman,” She told; “I wish I had a man that looked at , like that- or woman.”

"He's not my boyfriend." Y/n told her, she grabbing the rag from the pocket in her apron.

"Oh."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing, Ms. Y/n."

"Here." Finn spoke, he handing a mug that had rolled off to its own little world to Y/n.

"Thank you -" y/n spoke, rising quickly too quickly and too close to the table as she banged her head.

"Are you alright?" Finn asked quickly, Y/n nodding rubbing her head.

"Yeah. Yeah." Y/n answered: "thanks..."

Finn nodded as he watched her rush back with the tray of empty mugs, he taking his seat again.

"I'm very sorry for that." The woman spoke, she noticing the armor they all wore and gulped.

"Accidents happen." A solider answered.

"Can I get you anything? New Mead? Or Pie?"

"We're fine waiting for Ms. Y/n."

The woman nodded, apologized once again, and started to leave.

"Actually!" Finn stopped her: she quick to come back: "Y/n had mentioned to me she lives above the bar? Could you tell me how to get to her front door?"

"No." The woman spoke: it was clear as day, and she was stern in her answer.

"I just mean to check on her,"

"Ms. Y/n doesn't like..." She started unsure if it was truly her business to tell.

Finn raised a brow in confusion: "Like?"

"Leaf men." She answered quietly, "I see the way you look at Ms. Y/n, and she won't be in a relationship with one."

"Ooo Ouch." A solider winced, he at least pie Infront of him.

"Shut it." One of the female soldiers spoke slapping him in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Why not?" Finn asked.

"Mhm..." She started leaning down to whisper in his ear: "Her brother is commander of the army: he took her position after her father demoted her to snail mucus. She was meant to marry another soldier, but once she got demoted, he left her."

Finn pulled back: "Don't tell anyone." She told.

"You have my word, make sure she's alright-"

But before he could even finish her concerns, Y/n was back out two trays in hand and changed into a new set of clothes.

"Ms. Y/n has worked hard for what she has," the woman said, "Whatever you do don't hurt her please."

"I would never dream of it."

"Thank You."

She walked off to finish her work: "That sucks Sargent Major I really thought she had been talking you up."

"What?" Finn asked watching Y/n wait tables like nothing had happened; "Oh, we're just friends is all."

"Sure."

"Heartbreaker will reach him soon don't worry."

Time pasted: quickly, too, people came, and people went. Finn's soldiers left: Finn stayed behind, he left alone in the middle of the bar with a large table all to himself.

Y/n was putting the mugs in the bucket: "You." Red spoke coming up to her.

"What did I do now?"

"That Soilder Boy is waiting for you." Red told, "The Sargent Major, Second in Command mumbo jumbo."

Y/n walked towards the door that led into the dinning hall, she peaking threw the small decorative cut circle in the door.

"I'll tell him we're closing."

Y/n walked out, empty-handed, and Finn looked up, he quick to get up: so fast that his chair fell backwards and hit the floor with a thump.

"Sorry- Sorry-" Finn apologized, quickly picking the chair up.

"Its okay its just a chair." Y/n answered with a smile, watching him akwardly adjust it.

"I." He started looking at her: "wanted to make sure you were okay."

Y/n nodded: "I am."

"Good. Good..." Finn spoke: "I'll go then..."

Y/n watched as he started to leave, yet he stopped and turned around: "I actually have something else to tell you,"

Finn rubbed the back of his neck: "I know...about Ronin."

"I don't understand-"

"You're siblings are you not?"

Y/n looked down, "...yeah."

"I uh also know about the fiance situation."

"Which means..."

"I know how you feel about leafmen" Finn told.

"So you know about..."

"Ex-fiance. Yeah." Finn spoke: "he sounds like an asshole..."

"He was."

They chuckled softly; "I just thought, you know, It's your bussniess, it should be your bussniess who knows."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Y/n answered, it grew quiet between the two: Y/n looking towards the window shortly; "Do you maybe wanna stay till the sun rises? It's pretty late, I could make us some tea tonight and then breakfast in the morn'"

"You don't have to-"

"No, really, come on." Y/n protested, "You waited all this time. It seems kinda underwhelming, didn't it?"

"I just thought you should know."

"And as repayment stay the night," Y/n told as she walked away gesturing for him to follow: "come on."

It was a hard debate: at first, he thought it was a good idea: then he remembered Ronin, her brother, and most importantly her own feelings: he didn't want to step on them: and didn't want to hurt her like he she had been before.

Ultimately, he'd follow her through the kitchen. Passed all the employees. Most were talking amongst each other, ending their shift. Yet when he passed by, they stopped and stared, which turned into glares. And the Boss: Red increased his anxiety as she was sharpening the knives with a dark glare his way.

Y/n opened a door and allowed him in: stairs leading up, "Come on." Y/n spoke, taking the lead.

Finn followed behind, Y/n opening the door at the top of the steps.

"Ignore him." Y/n told, pointing to Ronin, who was sleeping on a chair, he had waited for her, her whole shift, "He does that a lot."

"You both seem close." Finn started as she led him into the small kitchen past a hanging curtain.

"Uh." Y/n started the moon shining inside the took from the windows, gave it light, as she went on the search for matches: "He wants to be close. I just....can't get over it. I know I should, but I don't know."

Finding the matches, she walked over to the table to light the little collection of candles she kept in the center of her table.

"You like Tea?" Y/n asked.

"You don't have to make me tea." Finn told: "If anything I should be making you tea."

Y/n shrugged: grabbing her tea pot and some cups, "Im trying to be a good host."

She started the water and threw in some dried elderberry to let it simmer. Into the cups, she added a small cube of sugar. She set them on the table, "You like honey in your tea?"

"Yes please." Finn answered.

Y/n went for the jar of honey: she setting it on the table to open before putting in a spoon to grab a dollop and add one to each of the cups, her hand became sticky: "mhm just a day old. Still taste fresh."

Y/n licked her thumb before returning the jar to the counter and taking the water off the fire and bringing it over to fill the cups a purple liquid coming from the tea pot and was set back on the fire before Y/n mixed them both and handed one over.

"Thank you." Finn thanked taking the cup in both hands before lifting it to his lips, "it smells amazing."

"Elderberry." Y/n responded watching him take a sip: "Its nice after work."

Y/n lifted the cup to her own lips, taking a sip: "it taste even better than it smells." Finn complimented.

Bringing down the cup she smiled: "I'll send a jar your way then."

"You don't have to."

"Really its no problem."

It was silent for a moment Y/n sipping her tea again, she glancing at Finn for only a moment, catching eye contact with him. She smiled: and he froze. She watched his eyes avert in a flustered matter.

"Are you alright?" Y/n asked bringing her cup down.

"Yes; thank you,"

"Okay," y/n answered: "Oh. I should go set up a cot since you'll be sleeping here, Unless you don't mind us sharing mine?"

"Uh..."

"I don't mind sharing my bed. I am a cuddler." Y/n answered with a nonchalant shrug: she looking back at him with a smile.

"You're teasing me." Finn called out.

"Just a bit." Y/n chuckled watching as Finn became more flustered.

Finn found himself stuck, and Y/n enjoyed it. It sounded more malice than it seemed. Finn, in response, was quick to change the conversation.

"So you and Ronin are siblings."

It was Y/n's turn to be stuck: "Oh." Y/n answered.

"Yeah..." Y/n spoke: "We're night and moring twins."

"You don't look like him." Finn spoke: "How come I've never seen you before."

"You have." Y/n answered.

"I have?"

Y/n nodded, "I was the last queens right hand at sixteen-"

"That was you?" Finn asked, Y/n chuckled.

"Yeah, it was."

"I was right then," Finn spoke.

"About?"

"You'd look good in leafmen armour."

Y/n could only chuckle in response, as she ran her thumb over her cup, "thanks-"

A yawn intruppted her, showing how tired she was.

"I'll let you sleep." Finn answered, "I should go,"

"It's fine, Finn, stay, really." Y/n spoke; reaching her hand over to grab his, "I'd hate for you to get hurt on your way home."

His eyes gazed towards Y/n's hand: she holding his hand with a loose grip, thumb rubbing over his knuckles as it did her cup previously.

"Oh I..." Finn started, her grip tightened just the slightest, "can stay I guess..."

Y/n smiled at him, as he gazed back up at her; "You seem...fond...of having me around despite you're past..." Finn commented.

"Yeah, I do..."

"Why?"

Y/n sat in thought; "maybe it was the sword situation,"

"The mess I brought you?" Finn questioned.

Y/n nodded, "Yeah... I lost a big part of my family, I became a leafman because I wanted to protect my family and other families, of course. Even though I'm not a leafman, it doesnt mean I can't help families stay together. You said it yourself it was your mothers?"

"My mother was a high ranking leaf man." Finn answered: "Im the first man to be a leafman in my family line."

"Congrats." Y/n smiled: "pretty big achievement hm?"

Finn hummed in response his gaze on Y/n's hand, she had never let his hand go. With care he picked up her hand, her thumb dropping as she watch him sit up and lean forward, kissing her knuckles softly, he then proceeded to rub over the bone as she hand done for him.

"You're very kind..." Finn answered: "and a great listener, thank you."

Y/n sat stunded as he kissed another knuckle, holding her hand, not wanting to let it go. It was a bold move, one usually matched with Chiveraly. She only leaned forward in response, standing up as she did and pulled her hand away from his own.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Finn quick apologized.

Y/n only walked to the side to fill his cup again. She leaned down afterward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek in return.

"Trust me Finn." Y/n spoke softly: besides his ear, "If you had made me uncomfortable. You'd have gone out my kitchen window."

She finished with a small chuckle, this time the pot being placed on the wood counter. Finn sighed in relief.

"I got to give you props" Y/n spoke up, "Most wouldn't flirt with their second in commands sister."

Yet she received no answer, as she grabbed a jar to fill with the leftover tea. It was silent for a few more minutes, Y/n turning her head to glance at him, yet she caught him shamelessly staring, the look of love over taking the tired look in his eyes.

Topping off the jar, she turned finally snapping his attention back to reality.

"Come on, you're tired." Y/n told.

He attempted to protest, yet Y/n's hand ran across his shoulders and the soft touch seemed to lull him to sleep, and he followed her by hand.

It was full of quiet laughters trying not to disrupt the sleeping commander slumped over in the chair. Y/n showed him where he could toss his armor and showed him the bathroom. They each took turns to change inside. Finn came out after Y/n had, in a change of old chlothes Y/n had given him.

He paused at the frame: watching Y/n tuck Ronin into the chair before placing a kiss on his temple.

Before he was seen, he ducked back in, walking out after a moment, she laid back on the bed with her feet planted on the floor as she looked up at the ceilng.

"Am I intruppting?" Finn asked Y/n looking over.

"Come and join me. Just dont expect my nightly thoughts to last long." Y/n yawned.

Finn joined her with a chuckle, sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/n sitting up. Getting up, she pulled the divider that semi separated her room in two. Giving her a bedroom and a living room. She was quick to plop back down beside him, returning to her previous state, arm draped over her eyes.

"Are you really going to sleep like that?" Finn asked; "It doesn't hurt when you get up?"

Y/n shrugged and yawned again; "I'm always hurtin," She joked.

It was silent for a moment; "Thank you, again." Finn told.

Y/n smiled tiredly; "it's no problem."

Y/n continued to lay the way she did, he waited a moment before taking a side of the bed; he hopped to make himself as small as possible for her comfort. It felt awkward on his end; laying there patiently to fall asleep despite being tired. Yet he dipped in the bed, Y/n's side rising proving she had gotten up. Only moments later did the bed on her side dip again; and the tug on the blanket told him, Y/n had actually gotten into bed. Satisfied he was able to fall asleep in only a moment.

During the early morning hours, they shifted here and there. Backs once towards each other, to facing one another, ending in Finn laying on his back, and Y/n securely tucked into his neck and side, his arm holding onto her side as they snoozed till the sun was barely starting to change the color of the sky. Y/n on natural instinct got up. She is sitting up and stretching on the few hours of sleep she had. Slipping out of Finn's grasp she went to get ready for the day; starting the hot water on the fire as she bathed in the bathroom. Getting out and getting dressed she looked around for socks, and from there she slipped her boots on, and poured herself tea. Returning to her bed to sit on the edge and lace up her boots.

Finn was still sleeping as she finished getting ready, she kneeling besides the bed as he shifted; his hand falling limp over the edge of the bedside and a pillow tucked in under his arm. Y/n smiled, brushing a loose hair from his face with the tips of her. fingers.

"I've got to go now," She spoke softly, "It was fun.... I haven't had that much fun in a while...thank you,"

Before leaving she placed a soft kiss on his upper cheek bone, her lips lingering for what a few would call a moment too long. Yet it seemingly only limbered him deeper into sleep, she smiles; "I can't wait to do it all again tomorrow."

[warnersister]

Yandere! Peter Parker x (female!) Reader with an eating disorder - read at own discretion and take note of warnings!!

A/N: I wrote this at 9pm and idek what was going through my head but it’s the first fanfic I’ve finished in months so it’s whatevs. Reader is based on me, oops🤭

WARNINGS: yandere, eating disorder, not pro-recovery, fat used as a derogatory term, depression, inferences to suicide, starvation, kidnapping, (please let me know if anything is missing)

Prompt / summary: Yandere! Peter Parker took his love away from everything. This world much too dangerous. But he stopped you exercising. And exercising was the only thing keeping you eating.

It had been three months since Peter had taken you hostage. After all, this world was way too dangerous for your precious soul. He’d dropped out of college, and ‘coincidentally’, so had you. He saw you every day. Whether in class, in the library, getting coffee, running, in the gym, in your apartment, in the shower. Wait, what? There were too many creeps in this city, too many weirdos. He needed to take you away from it. Away from it all.

But one thing he neglected to notice, was your relationship with food. How you chewed it slowly. Counted your calories. Weighed your portions. Obsessed over the scales. But your runs gave you peace. Your workouts allowing you to eat.

You were towards the end of your run, 4.7km in and only 300m away from your apartments. Peter was on top of your adjacent building, watching you in his spider-suit. His eyes narrowed, beginning to swing down. And before you knew it, your mouth was covered by a gloved hand and the ground was appearing farther and farther beneath you.

You were flying further away from your abode, your mind spinning with confusion. About a mile or two away from the main city now, you finally found your feet. It was a green area, ground covered with over growing trees and dense woodland. Your captor let you go for a moment, and you made a run for it - after all, you wanted that final 300 meters.

He grabbed you after a second or two, having sprinted after you. “You’re very fast, sweetheart.” He huffed, spinning you around to face you. Your breathing slowed down slightly, as you looked at him, clicking at your watch to stop your run - GPS on it now well and truly fucked.

Your eyes focused and it took you a minute. “Spider-Man?” He immediately removed his mask when he noticed your softened expression. “Peter?” You knew his name? This angel knew he existed? He nodded. “You’re safe now.” He spoke, hugging you close.

It wasn’t the hug that alarmed you. Nor was it the situation. It was the close proximity. Could he feel your fat? Was your back chubby? Was he squeezing your skin? He leant back to look at your wide-eyed face. “Was I in danger?” You queried. He nodded. “From what?” “Everything. Everyone. This world is too dangerous for you, my love.” You pushed him away, and he creased his brows. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Apparently, you had chosen the hard way - breaking out into a run but tripping over a large tree trunk in your way, and then you had found yourself in a small cottage surrounded by the unfamiliar canopy of trees.

It turned out Peter was batshit crazy. He had confessed his love for you, you were tied to the bed for about a week while he went to work so he knew he could trust you. You hadn’t left the house since he had taken you. Nor had you eaten since. Now he was sat at the edge of the bed, plate in hand, pleading with you to eat.

“Please, my angel. Eat. Please.” He begged, tears building in his eyes. “You’re not listening to me!” You shouted, your own pouring down your cheeks. “Peter I can’t eat if I don’t exercise!” You yelled. “Why? I don’t understand.” “Because I’m not good enough! I need to lose weight! I’m fat! I have to exercise to eat!” You sniffed. “Please, I’m not trying to escape, Peter. I understand - you love me! I just need to run. Come with me, choose where and when we run! Just let me run, please!”

He was taken aback, looking at you. Without a word, he stood up, walked to the kitchen and placed the food down then to the shoe rack in the corner. He returned with the running shoes you were wearing when he took you. “Let’s go.”

Peter had tried to strike up a conversation with you, but you didn’t respond until the fourth kilometre. His breaths were fleeting as he grew tired with your pace. “You know, to say you’re a superhero your endurance is terrible.” You joked, allowing a smirk to fall onto your face. “The works all in the arms, babe.” He replied. “I appreciate this, Peter.” You told him, facing forward as you continued on the route. “I love you.” He said. “I know you don’t get it, but you will. And I’m sorry but this is for the best.” You didn’t reply, only stopping when you reached your familiar; the cottage.

And sat at the table, cereal in front of you, you had taken a few bites and Peter was sat, silently smiling as he, too, ate his breakfast. “I get it Peter.” He hummed, raising a brow. “I was miserable in my old life, I didn’t see a purpose to it. You were right.” You made eye contact. “I was in danger, endangering myself. I don’t love you quite yet but I understand. And thank you for taking me on a run.” He leant across the table and kissed your forehead sweetly. “Anything for you, my love. Anything.”

“After all,” You began. “Now we have plenty on time to focus on your 10k’s!” He groaned jokingly. “Oh no.”

[maehemthemisfit]

MUTUALS

This is a LOT and probably half of it doesn't make any sense and looks like gibberish but yk what thats fine. Sorry I couldn't fit everyone!

@clovers-garden-co - my first ever moot, my one and only, bae, love of my life, my beloved, and the person who helped me make this blog so BIG SHOUT OUT to them!! ALSO CHECK OUT THEY'RE BLOG THEY DESERVE SO MUCH LOVE 💕💖💘

@fitzkn - my dawg, my guy, my fam, he's canonically a cat and part of the menace society. If you ever see me rb a convo with him, 9 times outta 10 it's gonna be something... idek how to explain it but you might laugh, you might cry, you might log out and rethink your life on this app. Conversations can range from genshin to a lawn mower don't ask me cause I have no words. He's also a talented writer an artists but will never admit it. If you're a fan of angst and genshin, I recommend digging through his blog and finding a fic called butter knife... I was in tears. HIS OTHER WORKS ARE CHEF KISS TOO MWAH

@some-stale-bread - we don't interact much but they're one of the OGs who welcomed me when I first started my blog. They're really cool and they're a good artist so check them out some time!

@senjusonlygirlfriend - we go way back, though we didn't interact much in those early moments. They're an amazing writer and friend and I love chatting with them <33

@path-of-yaksha - we also been moots for a while but I got hella confused bc you changed your url. They're a pretty chill system even though we don't interact much

@y-umiko - fell in love with their blog aesthetic <3 wish we interacted more. They like genshin and TR so it's a yes for me

@mansplain-manipulate-malewife - I don't know how this happened, but it did and I don't regret it. I feel like im falling through portals from rick and morty whenever I open their blog. It's a nice change of scenery. Hii Alex, hope you're doing well

@official-megumin - The best wizard in tumblr so powerful I had to follow. IDK WHAT CHECKMARKS MEAN AND WHY IS THERE MORE THAN ONE??? EXPLAIN??? She's cool, though I rarely see them when im active

@oddshroom - MY GURL, MY G, MY SHROOM- MUSHROOM? HAMVKTIRLOE. ANOTHER ONE PART OF MENACE SOCIETY. They're an awesome person, really sweet, amazing writer, we also speak in code 🦞 but you'll never know what we're saying. They gang fr doe 💅🏾✨

@dorothy-rainbird - WE DONT INTERACT ANYMORE *sobs* or have we ever? I see you in my notifs a lot though so you're part of the misfit gang. RESPECTT. Wish I seen you on my dash more tho :')

@vellichxrr6782 - HUGGING YOU HUGGING YOU HUGGING YOU. You're really sweet and I wish we talked more <33 I wish you the best my friend

@cross-crye - ANOTHER AMAZING WRITER HELLO??? They bouta put me on twst fr im this 🤏🏾close into falling down the simp rabbit hole. HELLO SETH I ALSO WISH U THE BEST

@omori-1 - daily reminder that I need to finish watching omori... I PROMISE I WILL AJUFKRI. VIRGO GANG. TALENTED CREATOR GANG. IF I COULD EAT THEIR BLOG I WOULD. Put it inna air fryer and drizzle some sauce on afterwards yum. Another one part of menace society. LOVE YA CHAI, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND THEN SOME

@xiao6ao - My love. My life. My will to write. MY LOVELY EDITOR. MWAH MWAH I LOVE YOU. She's my life support for real and also deserves the world and good fortune and just Nbhvgtdikmk This world shall know pain if anything happens to her. AMAZING WRITER YET ANOTHER ONE WHO DOESNT ADMIT IT. Grammarly 2.0. Always come in clutch. Menace society CEO. AHH I LOVE YOU PLEASE TAKE CARE

@atskas - MY FAM. TALENTED AUTHORS ALERT. TIMEZONES SUCK FR BUT I STILL LOVE THEM. Another one locked in, in the menace society, rip their sleep schedule. HI ARII ILY- HIARIILY... That actually looked like one word- GIRL I WISH YOU THE BEST MWAH

@lunartcmpest - it's always the aesthetic blogs that melts my heart. TALENT WRITER ALERT BEEP BEEP BEEP. GO CHECK OUT THEIR BLOG RN OR IM SNATCHING YOUR ANKLES. Wish we interacted more but it's all good. She's pretty cool tho. SHOUT OUTS TO YOU KAIRI, WISH YOU WELL

@alhara - AUTOCORRECT BE DAMNED. HELLO HARA. SHOUT OUT TO ANOTHER UNDERRATTED WRITER. Wish you the best

@albed0kreideprinz - They haven't been active in a min and I hope they're okay, but here's an amazing rp blog for all those interested. They're amazing and really sweet and I hope the world treats them well <3

@araranas - aka @primojade aka TALENETED WRITER aka AMAZING PERSON aka MNJNJENKI I LOVE YOU. TIMEZONES BE DAMNED

@ventisweetheart - IF ONLY I COULD HUG SOMEONE THRU THE INTERNET! You're so sweet and I'm glad we're moots and I always look forward to our interactions

@micheya - I dont know why and dont ask me, but if I could squish you like a gummy bear I would... IT MIGHT BE THE AETHER PFP IDK. We don't interact much but <333

@1eaf-me-alone - This year, I think you should turn a new 1eaf... g-get it BECAUSE MUYGITKR,ICRLT. Forgive me, I had to. PFF S,MUTFR THEY'RE REALLY COOL CHECK THEM OUT. HI HELLO HRU. I love our interactions please dont block me for my Cyno jokes, I'll 1eaf you alone if you- AUMSUFKRDE IM SORRY I CANT HELP IT!!

@scaranya - the fact that I had to basically type your full name out because scaranation is so big on tumblr... N E WAYS, RECENT MOOT HERE. Love to see your comments <3 Please stay safe and well!

@qingxin-dream - ENVIOUS OF YOUR WANDERER KEYCHAIN GRRR GRRR SUNYUFKRIKRCF. Another great writer here, please check them out!

@sweet-almonds - COMFORT WRITER BC ANGST BREAKS MY HEART. SHE'S AWESOME AND SWEET AND I ADORE YOUR BLOG

@enassbraid - Yall with these url changes. I HAVE BAD MEMORY OKAY! She's lovely okay and deserves the moon and back

@wanderersbell - WWEEEE WOOO WEEE WOOO TALENT WRITER ALERT, YES OFFICER? RIGHT THERE -> YOU'RE LITERALLY SO AMAZING AND FUN TO TALK WITH IM SO GLAD WE CROSSED PATHS EEEE PLEASE I FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING EVERYDAY I WISH U THE BEST

I KNOW IM MISSING A FEW AND IF I CAN I'LL ADD THEM LATER BUT MY HANDS ARE GETTING TIRED AND SORRY IF SOME OF THE THINGS IVE SAID WAS REPETTITIVE I TRIED MY BEST

@cynotical - RECENTLY BECAME MOOTS BUT IVE BEEN A FAN FOR AWHILE ✨✨✨ Another talented writer please check them out as well as their other blog!!! THEY'RE AWESOME AND SUCH A LOVELY PERSON TOO

@sonder-paradise - idk how but their writing manages to break me down and put me back together again every time like— UGHHH I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE. Talent writer alert x20. Should have 2 novels and an ongoing series already because wth

[bl3ssed-cursxd]

Did You Ever See Me As Your Brother?

Blind TVN, Blind 2022, Blind Kdrama, Oneshot

Ryu Sung Joon & Ryu Sung Hoon

notes: posted on ao3 as well. this show literally destroyed me anyways here's the oneshot i claimed id post like uh 6+ months ago ?? idek anymore. they may be slightly OOC but oh well 🤡

Word count: 711

"Father, you are under arrest for attempted murder," Ryu Sung Joon said as he put the handcuffs on his own father. "You have the right to remain silent, you have a right to an attorney..."

Rain poured upon the three, including Ryu Sung Hoon who was still on the ground. After making sure his father was cuffed properly, Sung Joon got up and went over to his brother. He felt so betrayed and furious—Sung Hoon was working with Yoon Jae the entire time?

"Are you happy now?" Sung Joon scoffed. "It turned out the way you wanted to."

Silence. Spare for the rain hitting the ground. It was too loud.

Sung Joon balled his fists, hands trembling.

"Are you happy now?!" he shouted, hating the silence. For once, his brother had nothing to say. Well, how could one possibly excuse lying to him for so many years?

In a fit of rage, he went and pulled Sung Hoon up by the front of his shirt. He braced himself for the one final question he had.

The question he was scared to ask. Or rather, the answer he was terrified to hear.

"Did you-" Sung Joon took deep breaths, the adrenaline of forcing the gun out of his father's hands from earlier wearing off. "Ever, just once ," his voice took on a pleading tone, "think of me as your brother?"

Sung Hoon finally snapped. "What do you take me for?"

"ANSWER ME!" Sung Joon shook him. Perhaps he was being selfish, there were more pressing matters to get to, like taking his father and brother to the station, but he had to know.

Did Sung Hoon really hate him? Has he ever truly cared about him?

"You thought I didn't because Yoon Jae told you, don't you?" Sung Hoon asked simply. Sung Joon wanted to pull out his hair in frustration.

"You came from Hope Welfare Center."

"Scary men there would hurt you."

"Don't tell our parents or they'll send you back there."

The necklace.

"I gave you that necklace because I think of you as my real brother."

"You're still pathetic, though," with a hint of a smile.

"You said you gave that necklace to me because you considered me as your real brother!" Sung Joon screamed, voice breaking. He pushed Sung Hoon away and made him fall right back on the ground. "Why did you lie? Why did you make me get my hopes up?"

"Ryu Sung Joon!" Sung Hoon shouted, wincing and bringing a hand to the wound on his side. "Stop speaking nonsense, I didn't lie. Why are you being like this?"

"If you meant it, why did you lie and make me believe I was adopted? That I was Yoon Jae?" Sung Joon couldn't help it, his eyes watered. The tears threatened to spill. He shook his head vigorously. No need to make himself look more pathetic.

He was already practically begging his brother to love him—like a child.

"I… I projected my… experiences onto you," Sung Hoon admitted. "I’m… You didn't deserve that. I understand if you never forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry,” he swallowed.

Sung Joon stared at him, feeling hyper aware of the sounds of the ocean waves behind them. The sounds of the waves, almost calming if it weren't for the situation at hand. The pitter patter of the rain, how his clothes stuck to his body. He felt sick. Sick to his stomach.

His brother disgusted him, but at the same time, he apologized. Sung Hoon never apologized. Granted, perfect Ryu Sung Hoon never had a reason to. Their parents adored him, Sung Hoon was never the one recklessly getting into fights and trouble.

Why would he have apologized before?

“You… you tricked me,” Sung Joon whispered, voice breaking. “Why did you have to lie?”

“How much do you… recall? Those memories… Yoon Jae w-” Sung Hoon began, but the second Yoon Jae’s name came out of his mouth, Sung Joon snapped.

"It's always Yoon Jae!" Sung Joon let out an unamused huff of laughter. "Yoon Jae this, Yoon Jae that! Has it always been about Yoon Jae? Your real brother?”

"At some point in time," Sung Hoon exhaled, pushing himself off the ground. “It stopped being about Yoon Jae.”

HAHA THE END MY MOTIVATION ENDED THERE

might make pt 2?? but last time i said that it never happened so honestly imma just say Inshallaah 🤠

[izzy-b-hands]

TW for Izzy's darling dumb ass doing the same jump Roach did when we met Calico Jack in s1, and injuries (not bad) as a result of that.

slightly nsfw simultaneous mix of stizzy, steddyhands, and rizzy at the end.

Idek how I ended up here but I have a new favourite mix of ships to have happening all at once.

---

"I can still do it," Izzy groans and swings his way up to the mast. "How high did you fall from, Roach?"

"I honestly don't remember," Roach shrugs. " But I'm still alive. So if you fall, you'll be fine, apparently. Probably."

"Iz," Ed calls up. "Please stop and come down. This is sort of pathetic."

Izzy peers back down. "Isn't that what you all usually think of me anyway?"

Silence. Telling silence.

"See," Izzy continues. "Why not add this on top? Have fun with it."

He spits out the last words before checking his route down.

Far. It's far down, and the sea is a dark blue where the ship is anchored. No telling who or what might be awaiting him there, if he didn't smack his skull onto some part of the ship and die that way first.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

He hears Bonnet below, but doesn't look down to the deck again. Stede had said maybe there was a natural expiry on being a pirate, even if one wouldn't retire, and he knows it was just the rich fucker trying to get under his skin, but it worked and-

"If you fall," Stede continues. "I..."

Izzy waits for more. And waits.

He peeks down to see the crew huddled around Stede, seemingly trying to prompt him to finish whatever the fuck he'd been planning to say.

But Bonnet is simply staring up at him.

"I'm not spending all fucking day up here!" Izzy shouts down, and with a final deep breath...

He jumps.

He already knew water tended to feel less like water and more like a wall from a certain distance. After all, he and Ed and Jack had been playing this stupid game (a generous term for it) since they were young.

That doesn't make the smack into the sea sting any less, and it takes his breath away at first.

It sounds like there might be some fuss on the ship, but it's hard to tell between the sound of the waves as they help push him back towards her.

"Get the fuck up here!" Bonnet sounds...well. Not anything like he's heard before.

Izzy struggles up the ladder, only to feel a couple of hands yank him onto the deck.

"Reckless," Stede fumes. "And stupid beyond belief. I thought you'd be better than Jack, of all people!"

Izzy attempts to wring out one of his sopping wet shirtsleeves. "You aren't used to me disappointing and upsetting you yet? Really?"

Rage is what it is. It doesn't look bad on Bonnet, not at all.

"You know," he continues before Stede can say anything. "If this was the Gentleman Pirate you'd shown me at first, things would probably be different now."

"What, you wouldn't have pulled this stunt?" Stede scoffs. "Sure."

Izzy giggles. He can't help it. "Where has this been?"

"You have a head wound," Ed remarks with a frown. "Roach?"

"Hang on," Roach hustles over, medicine chest already in one hand. "It's probably not that bad. Heads bleed a lot, thin skin there."

"Another term you'd put on me," Izzy says to Stede. "Right?"

"You're egging him on now," Ed scolds. "Come on."

"No," Izzy laughs. "Look at him! Imagine that with a knife in your face, threatening you over books during a raid."

Bonnet's gaze softens, and he lets out a shaky scoff. "Oh, now he likes me! Is that what does it for you? Is that what would shut you up?!"

He grunts as Stede shoves him against the mast. The knife that meets his neck is nearly dropped at first, but other than that?

Not bad.

"If I swear to my captain not to do that again," Izzy says, breathing hard. "Would that save my skin here?"

He leans into the knife just slightly, enough to feel the edge and exactly how sharp it really is. "Or would you send me away again? Over this?"

Stede's eyes drill into his, but only for a moment. He's grateful for that, any longer eye contact with anyone is uncomfortable for him.

A knee slips in between his legs, then back away rapidly.

"Sorry," Stede whispers, and the façade of what the Gentleman Pirate could be drops.

"You're getting better," Izzy whispers back. "That's a surprise. But good for you, Bonnet."

Stede blinks. "I don't...I was going to toss you overboard. Or something."

"Literally nothing is stopping you," Izzy says. "Do it then."

"Are you two good here?" Olu peeks over Stede's shoulder. "We're invested in however this ends, don't get me wrong, but we do have things to do-"

Izzy snorts and falls into a fit of laughter against Stede's shoulder. "Now they want to do chores! I should have leapt off of there earlier. Would have, had I known that's what it takes."

Stede's chest hitches. Then again, until he's shaking with laughter.

"Fuck off," Olu says, but there's a chuckle in it.

"I swear it then," Izzy sighs and leans back to the wall. "I won't do that again. Unless instructed by my captain."

"Why would Ed tell you to do that?" Stede asks. There's a hint of irritation in his eyes, but far less than a moment ago.

"Didn't say Ed, did I?"

"Uh," Stede replies. "I'm not..."

"I've sworn my loyalty to Ed," Izzy continues. "But not yet to you. You clearly aren't going anywhere, and it's as much a second pledge to Ed as to you, since he-"

Izzy looks over to Ed, standing there, seemingly dumbstruck. "Since he loves you like he does."

"I don't know what to do," Stede says.

"I expected that," Izzy admits. "You're one of my captains. You can do essentially whatever you want."

Stede nods. "Right."

He watches Stede look back to Ed to exchange another nod.

The knife clatters to the deck, and Stede's hands find his hips and waist instead, pushing him into the wall as if he weren't already against it.

He's not terrible at kissing. Full of surprises, Stede Bonnet. Apparently.

"Oh," Olu's voice drifts away. "Okay, let's all get to work, yeah? Roach, you...I guess you should stay, for Izzy, but..."

"You really are bleeding a lot," Stede says, their foreheads pressed together. "I'm actually getting blood on myself right now, like this."

"I know," Izzy says. "I..."

"Yeah, I don't know either," Stede's words tumble out in a rush. "I didn't think I was going to do that and then I was and it wasn't bad but you're-"

"Myself?" Izzy chuckles.

Stede's lips crash into his again, and the leg returns between his thighs.

"I'm gonna need to ask you two to stop," Roach taps Izzy's arm. "Briefly, at least. I mean, eventually it'll stop bleeding on its own, but I should probably actually do something about it."

Stede steps away and Roach takes his place.

"I had a bet on you," Roach murmurs as he gently examines Izzy's scalp, a hand shifting away drying strands of hair. "For that. That you'd break and kiss him first."

"Again, my disappointing any of you shouldn't be so shocking," Izzy says. "How much did you lose?"

When he looks back on the day, ultimately it was a good one. Amazing, even. Despite the head wound and scrapes and aching body his plunge into the sea brought him.

Roach's lips are right on top of his. "Do you really want to know? Or do you want to make it up to me?"

"And what about the bet in regards to us then?" Izzy asks. "I presume there was one, from this."

Roach kisses more gently, warmly, but then again there's no simmering rage beneath it like Stede had.

"What the fuck is happening?" Ed asks. "I knew about you hating that you liked him-"

"I don't know that I mind it now," Stede remarks.

Izzy wants to reply to that, but Roach's hands wandering and sighs into each kiss take precedence.

"Again!" Ed scoffs. "What the fuck is this?"

"Lucius has been a good influence on me," Izzy manages to shout out when Roach stops for a breath.

There's a beat of silence, then a snort of laughter from Ed.

"Fine," Ed continues. "I admit I didn't know how it would look, you finally getting along with everyone here. I hadn't envisioned this."

"And you hate it?" Izzy asks, while Roach presses kisses into his neck. "Roach, why the fuck didn't you do this sooner?"

Roach shrugs. "You were an asshole. You still are, but this is a bearable level of that. Funny, even. Cute, somehow."

"I'm dizzy," Izzy sighs.

"That's the head wound," Roach smiles, then frowns. "Fuck, right. Let's get you to the gal-"

"Captains' quarters," Ed interjects. "You can come along, of course, to treat that...fuck, Iz, what did you hit down there?"

"You don't hate it," Izzy smiles.

"I don't think he does," Roach says. "I'll help get you there and clean you up, then I'll get out of everyone's hair."

"Hang on," Ed says. "You can stay. I mean, the three of us should look after him, right? Might have a concussion, or other injuries. If he's amenable to it, we should probably check him all over too."

Roach smiles. "In my opinion, I think that's the smartest route."

"You are our doctor," Stede says. " You know best. Here, let me help you grab him before he falls..."

"Let's move," Ed interrupts. "Iz is pale, and I'm-"

"Hard, we can see that," Roach says. "Join the club."

"I don't care if any of this helps the head wound or not," Izzy murmurs. He really is feeling it, leaning hard into Stede, then Roach, then Stede again as they help him away from the wall. "I think medically it'll all be necessary. All of you...god, something else I haven't done in a good few years."

"I'm sure you've still got it," Stede says. "Lift a foot for m-oh. Hm. Ed, could you give us a hand?"

Ed lifts his legs, and he cackles as they carry him towards Ed and Stede's room. He's probably going to have the best night of his life in ages, while bleeding and concussed and already sore.

He really should have jumped sooner.

[switchkick]

tagged by @antiquesintheattic yay i love having an excuse to talk about myself

are you named after anyone?

not first name but my middle name is my great grandma’s (maria)

when was the last time you cried?

DUDE idek actually and i do be crying tho uhhhh imma say last week it was probably from a sad tiktok LMAOOO

do you have kids?

NO WHAT THE FUCK

what sports do you play/have you played?

i swam i love swimming i haven’t swam competitively since graduating high school. now i just like to lift weights at home (im actually not that strong) LMAO but i wanna do muay thai bc ive been on my mma shit recently (well me n my family love combat sports my little bro does boxing) but i wanna do that or bjj but i don’t wanna take my piercings out

do you use sarcasm?

duh but not a lot in text unless i know you bc it’s easily confused bc OBVIOUSLY

what’s the first thing you notice about people?

THEIR SMILEEEEEE awwww well mouth i guess idk that’s usually what i look at idk why or eyes but im not to fond of eye contact to that’s like number 2

what’s your eye color?

blue, it’s actually kinda crazy bc my great grandpa on my dads side his whole family has colored eyes no matter WHAT kinda freaky even if they’re like more tan their eyes r hella blue

scary movies or happy endings?

BOTH????? I love everything scary movies with happy endings hmm but yeah

any talents?

no LMFAO i’m pretty good at drawing i guess cats used to be my specialty in high school cuz i’d just draw cat memes on sticky notes and give them to people

where were you born?

california BAY AREAAAAAAAAAAAA yeah yeah im cool as fuck

what are your hobbies?

none jk not really but i like to read comic books when i can im not that deep tho LIKE SUPER INTENSE shout out to you people who are tho bc i want to be like you. i just got house of x powers of x for christmaaaas so imma read that yay i also like swimming duh

how tall are you?

5’6” average i wish i was taller though

favorite subject in school?

SCIENCE i love all science ive been really liking chemistry bc that’s all i do but its cool actually or english i loveeeeee english lit super super fun i love writing essays so much

dream job?

i want to be an aquarist i wanna work at an aquarium SO BAD i love the ocean that’s why im majoring in marine bio yaaaaay

taggingggg @jwowwsboobs i can’t think of anyone else to tag im having a brain fart LMFAO and anyone else who wanna do it <3

[wench-and-jezebel]

Ten Inch Hero Reaction:

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

Such a different vibe from Devour ☠️☠️☠️☠️  [alksdjf Tis true]

“Normal people need not apply” ☠️☠️☠️ we’d fit in there  [We would indeed]

Danneeellll

Oh noooo

Sir

I wanna work here [:)) I KNOW]

[I love that the customers get to vote]  The dog.  I love it  [Yes, and the dog]

Hmmm

Ahhhhh!  Omg! He’s here!

☠️☠️☠️☠️  “Well he’s employed here”  [That line bothers me so but anyway]

🤣🤣🤣 “And now you’re hiring people who fail the interview?”

Well.  Shit.  [She’s lying, dear]

🤣🤣🤣  Poor buddy

[Zo!  I love her]

Oh, man, chat rooms  [I know!  We'd never talk long distance on an electronic device]

☠️☠️☠️☠️ His look

Idek what this movie is about and I love it

It just is so chill and nothing is happening (so far) but it’s like 😍😍  [This is the vibe throughout]

☠️☠️☠️☠️ This lady 🤣🤣🤣🤣  [I told you I loved her]

Welp. Now I’ll think of that next time I eat eggs.

☠️☠️☠️ DoorDash.  Back in the day

She ain’t even look both ways; she’s definitely a witch

Ooooo

OHHHHH WELL SHIT.  WELP SHIT.

THIS WHOLE MOVIE JUST YEETED ITSELF A DIFFERENT DIRECTION

Damn, that’s sad af

Ma’am.  You stop that.  Flirt.

Awwwww.  Well that was wholesome as helll

[Buddy is not subtle okay]  ☠️☠️☠️

Bruh this is the one I wanted to watch the most and I’m gonna struggle commenting because I’m too into it 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

They have the same sketch book 🥺🥺🥺

Oooooooh is this going where I think it is [*whistles*]  Oh nooooo tho.  Cause it’s gonna be drama first.  That’s a big no no in adopting

I WANT THAT VANNNNNN

Priestly is adorable

Oh, douchebags

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

Well that’s what you get you ass

Bruh.  Why am I not loving Danneel?  I wanna love Danneeel!

☠️☠️☠️☠️ Not the eye flutters!  I’m ded  [I love him]  I knowwww

Awwwwww muh heart.  I can’t take it!

Plz tell me Jen doesn’t get hurt

This kid is ADORABLE

AWWWWWW

[I love Priestly flipping the bottle, btw; watch for it]

Oooof  [Poor buddy :(]

Ngl she deserved the door in the face

Poorrrr buddyyyy

[Us if we ever met in person: "we tell each other everything-"]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

HE IS THE COOOOLEST BOSS

POOOOR BUDDDDYYYY

[THIS SCENE]  OH I KNOW THIS SCENE  [I've made you watch it]

[Sharky boy 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣]

[The first scene that made me like Tish]  Yess!!

Oooooo that’s the face of someone who likes someone pjhhhh

Omg, buddy

Well shit it worked

That’s adorable omg

This is soooo awkward cause it’s gonna look so bad when he realizes

Also ooof; everyone putting feet in mouths

The phone cord ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ Deceased

[Poor pup looks Unhappy]  Oh poor Bam Bam

Oh the buzz ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oh my god

[Return of Jezebel the Deed critic]  BRUH.  I GOT NO WARNING.   [I forgot alskfdj]

DANEEEL  YOUR HUSBAND IS LIKE😭👏🏼👏🏼 not him

WELP 👀 *sigh*

[Sheeeeee]

Sweetie dump his assssss

He’s getting bent over by brad anyway [ALKSDJF;LKADSJF]

[It was a demogorgon]  ☠️🤣🤣🤣

[The little girl shouting "FRAT PARTY" tho]

I love this 😭😭😭

Whooooa awkwarddddddddd

Ohhhhhhh just tell me what happens.  I can’t take it!  [About?]  When he finds out  [Wait and see :)]

☠️☠️☠️☠️ [I love him; Priestly's my beloved]

Hell, I love all of them! Even Tish is coming around

Bruh this lady is a witch

[Priestly reacting like that as if he hasn't been doing about the same with Tish tho alksdjflkadsjf]  🤣🤣🤣🤣

I WANT THIS VANNNNNN

Why would you chase a goose

[Okay, I'm warning you now that Jen kindaaaaa annoys me here, but anyway.  (Give it a few minutes.)]   Oooof ok

TISH

JEN

WOTS HAPPENING

Oh, pity party.  Oh, I see

[MA'AM YOU JUST LEFT HIM SITTING BY HIMSELF WDYM]  This is definitely not ok

But like… why are they not saying she’s not ugly 👀👀  This isn’t okay either

[And btw.  I've been in a similar position to her.  So like.  I understand.  I just don't respect it.]

I WANT THIS JOBBBBB

["I was sitting by the phone, waiting, wondering..."  BUDDY.  "There's a perfectly good reason we didn't call" NO?!?!?  THAT’S ALL THE MORE REASON TO CALL HIM AND TELL HIM NOT TO BRING IT UP OR SOMETHING?!?!?]

Ooooh get her

Bruh he speaks truth

["Why are you suddenly Fuzzy's best friend?"  Because he didn't deserve that shit, wdym]

Oooof  [BUDDYYYY]

[The voice crack tho]  OOOOOFFFF

OOOOO WHATCHUUU DOING buddy  [Priestly be meddling]

Oh my goddddd 

OH MY GOD

BRUHHH

BRUHHH BRAD

DOUCHEEEEEBAGS

OH SHIT

WEAK ASS PUNK FELL LIKE A FEATHER

OH BOY

Oh boy

Well shit

Oooooofta

Beat.  His.  Ass.

Someone please do it

Oooo- Get him

Ok?  And? 🤣

[This be go well]

GETTTTTT HIMMM

OH SHIT  YESSSS TRUCKERRRRRR

“YOU DICKLESS YUPPIE”  THAT WAS AMAZING

💕💕💕💕 Preistlyyyyyy

[Tish, ma’am.  You came onto every dude in the shop… Defy gender norms and ask Priestly first instead of making him do it.]

I’m trying to think of who Zo is.  I’ve seen her in something else.  I love her!  She’s so calming

[He has the dark half of a yin-yang tattoo, and I want her to have the other half; I think it'd be so cute]

😭😭😭😭😭 Loveeeeee.  So much loveeeeee!

☠️☠️☠️☠️ What. Are.  [These dudes did not learn the lesson] 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Keep the lubeeee” [The look tho]

Well she gets A Julia.  Not her Julia, but she also gets a Noah.  So like… Win win

Awwwww

Oh OHHHHH

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Fuzzzyyyyy

[Also, the music here is from the Deckerstar prom.  It's the song he plays for her]  Oh my gawdddddddd

😭😭😭😭

Aight cmon gimme the bad ending

Priestly was like nope I’m getting credit for this

Why can’t they just kiss and let it end here

[Look at himmmm!!!  Buddy's so nervous slkdfj;laksdjf]

In her head (Danneel, not Tish), she’s like yep I’m marrying him

[Who gave him permission to be this adorable tho.  The wide-eyed curious stare thing is just ack.]

Ahhhhh

Aight so headcanon he swaps right back

But omg he rubbed his lips

I’m ded

I’m not even mad, that was adorable

[Hmph.]

Wot Is Happening??? Sweet lord.  [They’re getting married]  Nekked  [Yup]

– – – 

Endpoint Reaction:

Jezebel: That was really good!  😭😭😭😭😭  10/10  (Hah)

Wench: Glad it lived up

Jezebel: Ok I do hate he completely changed for her.  That sucks.  They should have had the scene on the beach him back like before.  Also… Boaz & Platisha  *sigh*  What names.  This was the strangest, most all-over-the-place-yet-all-connected movie I’ve ever seen! But omg no one died!  And everyone got a happy ending, minus Priestley’s style!  (RIP it was not deserved.)

Wench: Yup, ‘tis true

Jezebel: For Jen… I’m glad she got a happy ending. I think I’m even happier he called her pretty. Because I would have been like 👀👀👀☠️ had he walked in and been like… you’re a good person ☠️ And like, no, looks should not matter, but it’s like.. friendship code to lift your friends up… not agree with them *sigh* 🤣  And they didn’t agree, but they didn’t DISAGREE either

Wench: Right

Jezebel: Idk that bugged tf out of me

Wench: Makes sense.  Do we know what we're doing next?

Jezebel: Hmm…

Wench: We still have our shows to be doing, technically-

Jezebel: So we could do one of each show-  SBC

Wench: Sounds good!  Til then!

[princessamandai]

I’m once again yelling at my brain to be normal lol. Idk why I’m like this. I be gaslighting the hell outta myself or I’m just waaaay over dramatic I can’t tell anymore. I just feel like there’s this expectation I should be doing more but then I’m like is it just capitalism? Is it just the way I was taught that I should be doing more or the way a certain life set was presented to me like that’s what life’s all about? IDEFK. I don’t even know if it’s all hormonal from my damn bc that’s so irregular but works very well & I’ve essentially been on it since 17 so like do I stop?? Idek what I’m ranting about anymore I just feel so much, like why tf am I crying, crying at 2 am when I gotta be up before 7 am?? I can’t explain this feeling like I’m not doing enough but I should be content with my life but what should I be trying to achieve when I don’t have ambitions. I’m healthy, I have a roof over my head, my own room, food, enough money to do things I want to do, I have people in my life who love & care about me, I have intimacy, the person I like, likes me back, like what else could I ask for??? & yet when I’m alone with myself & my thoughts I feel a sense of sadness. Like why? What’s wrong with me? Maybe I’m just not good at being alone, even tho I’m not truly alone. My thoughts are all a scramble & I feel like Idek make sense to myself but at least I’m not crying anymore. Maybe I just needed to feel this roller coaster of emotions & let it out, feel & release. Who knows, def not I lol at least getting out, shouting into the void has made me feel better. I hope I can sleep now, goodnight & farewell to the whirlwind of my emotions pls pass & let me feel normal & not so crazy anymore. I’d really like a good nights sleep lol