#my jaw is a lot better now. but I still don’t sing much because it all just. makes me so sad.

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley)(Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 34

For some reason on my walk to the saloon, I saw nobody. There was nobody walking around, nobody doing yard work, nobody running errands. I know it is pretty late out, but people are usually still out and about. It’s giving me a really weird vibe.

Today is also the first day of fall! I had a lot of crops to clear out for the new season, but thankfully my project is still intact. I don’t know what I’m waiting for at this point… it’s really not a huge thing.

I kick a pebble from my path as I venture closer to the saloon. Still no sign of anyone. But as I get closer and closer to the building, I start to hear really…really… loud country music coming from inside. My curiosity is immediately in full gear, so I rush the rest of the way.

Bursting through the door of the Stardrop Saloon, I couldn’t even hear the bell over the sound of the jukebox at full blast. All the tables have been pushed aside creating what seems to be a dance floor. To my surprise, the dance floor was completely full with everyone dancing in rhythm to one another. Bodies were flying and twirling all around so quickly that I couldn’t keep up. What I really noticed was everyone changing partners every couple of minutes.

“A fucking hoe down?” I mumble in exasperation. I already had a tough time keeping up at the Flower Dance and that required no skill. This is another level for me.

People started noticing I was looming by the door and tried waving me over. First Gus, then Marnie, then Lewis, then what felt like the rest of the town. I had to wave off so many people in embarrassment.

I thought I was safe until Leah came swirling like a tornado my way. I couldn’t even object before she yanked my arm and tossed me into the mix of bodies on the dance floor. My arms connected with someone’s immediately and they swung me around to the beat of the music. When there was a pause in the dance, I could finally see who I landed with.

“Hey Danny,” Alex greeted me as we did a weird side step dance move while he held my hand up. I tried my very hardest to concentrate on his foot work so I could keep up.

“What’s all this about?” I question loudly over the sound of the hand claps echoing through the room.

“Not too sure to be honest. People kind of showed up and then Gus turned the jukebox up and it summoned the rest of the town in a weird, creepy way. It felt like being lured by a siren call,” Alex joked.

“How are you doing?” he twirls me around with his hand holding mine above my head. It’s really weird to be dancing with a dude, especially since we are both bulky, stone, statues.

“If you mean about Taylor and all that, I’m doing well. It’s going well. We might even officially put a label on our situation eventually,” we slide to the left a little awkwardly and my boot gets caught in a splitter on the floor board. I have to pry it away.

“That’s really good news. I’m glad to hear,” I give him a sincere smile and he gives me one in return.

“So you and Haley..? How is that going?” I see his eyebrows raise from the corner of my eye since the dance is everyone facing forwards in a line dance style now.

“It’s going better than great.” I feel my face heat up as I recap the previous night. Just as Haley suspected, I can tell Alex somehow figured out what happened because his face lit up as his jaw dropped. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, I was yanked away into someone else's arms.

“Look at you go! You are a natural!” Marnie sings as I spin her around. Somehow I fell right into the flow of the dance now. I’m not really thinking about it too much.

“It took some concentration at first, but I am slowly getting the hang of it,” I shrug.

“How are your chickens doing? Are you ready for some cows in a barn yet?” Marnie laughs. Once again, the clapping nearly drowns out our conversation.

“They’re growing so fast. I miss them as little chicks already. I’m nearly ready for some cows though. I can’t wait.”

“What are their names again? I have such a bad memory these days.”

I trip a little in the middle of the side step I was doing as I think of the names. On their own, they sound like normal chicken names… but together there is a bit of a pattern.

“Well… there is Coconut…Pinkie…Fruit Cup… and… Sunflower.”

“Oh those are such lovely names! I just know you take great care of those little rascals,” Marnie exclaims. “Time for another partner swap!”

Marnie must do this a lot, because a second after, I was pulled into the crowd by someone else for another round of the dance.

“Look at those hips move, girl!” Leah hollers as she holds my hips and starts rocking them back and forth a bit more than I was already doing.

“They ain’t even moving that much. You’re doing that,” I chuckle. I’m really working up a sweat at this point. This dancing is no joke.

“I bet Haley’s hips have been moving this much,” Leah pokes my side causing me to recoil, then lets go of my hips to line dance to the next part of the song.

“Maybe more,” a smirk forms on my lips and I give Leah a telling look. That causes her to clue in immediately. Just like Alex, she was also cut off by me getting pulled away before she could say anything.

“How have your injuries been? Have you been taking care of them? How is your head?” Harvey bombards me with questions right off the bat.

“No complaints yet…” I jokingly answered.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“So you are doing good?” He asks again. We hesitate a moment in the dance as we kind of get confused about who twirls who around which ultimately ends with me twirling Harvey.

“I have been taking care of myself. Don’t worry, doctor,” I flash him a charming smile. Harvey’s face distorts into an unreadable expression, and his cheeks go slightly pink. It throws me off and makes me get flustered. I trip over my own foot for a second but quickly regain balance. I guess I just have that effect on people..?

“C’mere,” Elliot pulls me away from Harvey so I can now be his dance partner. I didn’t even realize it was time to switch already. Each dance sequence feels like it's getting quicker and quicker. But I think I’m just getting used to it.

“That was so weird. I think I just made Harvey blush?” I say with uncertainty.

“I don’t think you know how attractive you are. Don’t cut yourself short,” Elliot says firmly.

“Well I don’t know about THAT,” I roll my eyes as I click my heels and toes against the ground to the beat.

“You literally made Haley rethink her sexuality,” Elliot points out. We shimmy past one another with our knuckles placed on our hips. I tip my hat down at him as we pass by each other.

“See. Right there. You’re attractive whether you agree or not. I’m not into you, but I see how you got Haley’s panties in a twist-” Elliot's sentence gets cut short as Leah spins by us and whispers into his ear. He listens intently, but his eyes widen and both of them look my way directly after. Leah gets swung back away from us by her dance partner, Caroline. Elliot is left gawking like an idiot as everyone changes dance partners again.

My next dance partner turned out to be Pierre. He was a bit off beat and that caused me to be thrown off a bit.

“I don’t know why I keep trying to do these dances. I’m getting too old for this,” he sighs.

“What are you talking about? You’re still plenty young!” I nudge his shoulder, trying to get his spirits up.

“Caroline has so much energy and a free spirit. I wish I could keep up with her and her hobbies.”

“I’m sure you guys have some kind of things you do together?”

“Yeah I guess we do. I just feel like she doesn’t like me as much anymore.”

“Why don’t you get her a bouquet to let her know how much you still love her? I’m sure she’d love that.”

“Good idea, Danny. Haley is a lucky girl.” And with that he gives me a wink and the dance is already over for this partner rotation.

I try to make eye contact with someone in the crowd so I know where I’m getting dragged to next. All I can see is an ocean of dancing people, no one person is looking back at me. Suddenly I feel my arm get tugged into the next dance.

“You looked like a lost puppy,” Maru giggles as we start clapping.

“I feel like one. I just keep getting whipped around from person to person. I can’t keep up,” I huff as I wipe a drip of sweat from my forehead.

“It's nearly over. Just a few more partner swaps!”

“I bet it will feel like forever. I’m going to sleep good tonight though that’s for sure.”

“Well it’s already time to switch! Good luck out there!” Maru lets go of my hand and I’m washed back into the crowd.

Instead of being spun, swung, or twirled away by someone, I find myself line dancing beside good old, energetic Sam. He looks over at me when he notices I picked my pace up to match his. I see his eyes narrow and he starts getting more aggressive with his dancing. The beat starts picking up in the song, and the two of us start “dance battling” each other. We are the only two paying attention to our intense dancing. We even join hands at some point and act like we are actually dance partners, but really we were competing.

We keep that up for the entire round, not speaking to each other once. I did look away a few times to gaze around at everyone else having fun. I also notice Leah and Elliot whispering to people from our group here and there. They are such gossips.

Sam and I’s competition really took the last wind out of me. I’m starting to get absolutely pooped. Sam dances his way into the wave of bodies out of my sight, and I’m left dizzy, brain spinning in circles. I feel my body slowly start walking me off course, causing me to bump into someone.

“Oh my Yoba. Willy!?” I say as I crash into Willy’s open arms. He must’ve been expecting me to lose my senses and stumble around. I rarely get to talk to Willy. He likes to spend time out at the pier and in his store. I haven’t really been focused on fishing or anything lately so it’s been a while.

“Ahoy lass! How ye been?” His grumbly sounding voice and gruff appearance always makes people afraid of him. But he is one of the sweetest people I’ve met.

“Living the dream. How ‘bout you?” Willy twirls me around, more gracefully than anyone else had tonight.

“Still tryin’ to keep the fishing business running. Some may say I'm trying to keep it afloat!” he starts chuckling at his own pun. I joined in on the laughter as it was a good pun.

“You been having any luck in these local waters? You were a great angler there at the beginning,” Willy asks.

“I’ve been a bit... preoccupied,” I say sheepishly. “I promise I’ll try to get out there again soon.” I recognize the vibe in the air that means it is time to change partners. Willy and I tip our hats to one another and spin away.

This time, I’m dragged into a dance with Penny. Although, It was more like we bumped into each other and just went with it.

“Penny! Hi!” We grasp hands and hold them out to the side. My other hand is lightly holding her waist while hers is just kind of resting on my shoulder. We bounce to the music, sticking our feet out every which way, trying to keep in sync with everyone else.

“Hi Danny!” You are a great dancer!” she admired my footwork for a minute but then dance required us to spin next.

“Meh, this part is easy work. I get so lost when the line dance part comes up. I think I’ve tripped like three times during that bit.”

“It took me years to learn how to line dance. We haven’t even gotten to the fastest song yet. That’ll throw you off for sure. I still get lost during it,” she laughs.

“How is the teaching going? Are the rascals behaving for you?”

“Jas and Vincent are truly great kids. I love teaching them. Sometimes they are a handful but I can take it.”

“You are such a kind person for doing that for them. Everyone is so thankful for all that you do.”

“Awww thank you. It’s something I’m really interested in doing for the rest of my life. It would be nice working with pristine, good condition textbooks. The ones we have here are very rickety, old things. They basically fall apart in your hands.”

Before I could respond, I felt someone slide their hands up my arms, over my biceps, to my shoulders. Penny gives me a smirk as she can see who has walked up behind me. She gives me a slight nod and dances away.

The hands on my shoulders start twisting me around so that we are face to face.

“I know those hands anywhere,” I whisper to Haley. She had finally arrived at the saloon, making me have to suffer all this dancing by myself until now.

“I’m sure you do,” she seductively whispers back, wrapping her arms around my neck. I tuck mine in around her waist, holding her close. Suddenly the synchronized dancing doesn’t have my attention anymore.

Before we could even settle into a nice, slow dance pace, she flashes me a bright grin and picks up into the line dance choreography. I let out a sigh, but excitedly went to join her as her partner.

“Isn’t this fun!” she shouts over the loud music. We are holding hands, bobbing in and out as well as doing some fancy footwork.

“You’re just lucky I decided to join in with you. I’ve been dancing this for a really long time. I was starting to feel exhausted there before you came in.”

“You saved just enough energy for me?” She says as I twirl her around.

“Of course I did. I have to have at least one dance with the pretty misses,” her face reddens and she suddenly becomes shy. “What’s the matter, did I embarrass you?” I pinch her already red cheek, making her face go a shade darker.

“I’m just happy you saved a dance for me. I was hoping you did.”

“Of course! Who do you think I am?”

“Which, does anyone know about…” she waves a finger between her and I as we start line dancing again.

“Only like a few. I didn’t tell EVERYONE.”

We continue line dancing side by side, only really paying attention to what the other is doing. I sometimes take her hips from behind and dance behind her, but only once and a while. I can tell the end of the dance is coming up, so I take Haley and dip her to the ground. Just as I pull her back up, the song abruptly stops. The two of us are frozen, gazing into each other's eyes.

Everything is immediately snapped back into reality when we hear Shane shout from across the room.

“I WAS RIGHT!” He starts waving a stack of money our way, with our entire group standing behind him, staring at us. Some still had money in their hand, waiting to pass to Shane. 

[estrellami-1]

In tradition of giving prompts that are just things happening in my life : steddie buy their first home (as a couple or pre relationship) and struggle with trying to figure out how to do maintenance and home repairs (what the Jesus fuck is the difference between nineteen different types of wood filler? And what are the pros and cons of mesh tape vs paper tape for drywall? If these are questions you’re struggling with baby I’ve been doing the research and I have answers lol) and maybe one of them start to feel a little in over their head and like they don’t know what they’re doing even though they’re trying SO hard to get everything right and comfort ensues 😇💜

(This is for the post about wanting to write but I’m so sorry if this is too long of an idea or something feel free to ignore love you also if it is also past midnight for you go to sleep you can write tomorrow haha) 💜💜💜💜💜

Hello my darling!

(It is after midnight but my sleep schedule has long since been decimated and I will sleep… sometime. Probably after I write this.)

Please keep in mind I’m impatient and want to write this Now and am not willing to do research and also am 24 and still live with my parents and only know about fixer-uppers what I’ve learned from HGTV. Which is to say, not much. But I’ll do my best! ❤️

“Stevie, my love,” Eddie sings, in the way he does when he’s getting frustrated but doesn’t want to take it out on Steve. “What in the everloving, flying fuck is this?”

Steve laughs as he joins Eddie in the bathroom, then sighs as he sees what Eddie’s pointing out. “That would be an external wall. With no insulation. In goddamned Indiana.” He sighs again. “I’m making a list of things we need. I guess I’ll add fucking insulation to the list.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugs on the ends.

Eddie looks at him sharply. “What’s wrong?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

Eddie smiles softly. Brings a hand up, tugs at a lock of Steve’s hair the way he just had. “You do that when you’re overly stressed.”

Steve stares flatly. “We’re trying to rebuild a house, Eds.”

“Overly stressed, baby. You handle stress like a champ. It’s when all the little things get to be too much that you pull out that little move.”

Steve sighs, lays his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. Hums when Eddie’s hand immediately connects with his hair in response. “‘S just… all of it. It’s a lot, there’s a lot to do, there’s a lot of little things that need work that I didn’t know would need work. I just feel… inadequate.” He grips at Eddie’s waist, fingertips digging into the top of his jeans. “There’s fuckin’ nineteen different kinds of wood filler and it feels like we need about twenty-six different types. And I don’t know why just one isn’t enough. Or even why we need wood filler in the first place.”

Eddie hums, moves so Steve’s standing on his own. “Hey.” Fingertips touch Steve’s jaw, a silent request to look up. “Dance with me?”

Steve smiles, like somehow, after all these years, Eddie’s ridiculousness is still endearing to him. “In an unfinished bathroom? In an unfinished house? With no music?” He pauses. “Actually, no, the no music makes sense for us.”

Eddie laughs lightly, already swaying in a kind of dance, grabbing Steve’s hands and spinning him around, pressing his back to Eddie’s front. “No better time, no better place, Stevie, my love.” He hums a few bars of a song in Steve’s ear.

Steve gives in, dances with the man he promised his forever. Who promised him a forever right back. “Eds, why are we dancing?”

He can feel the curve of Eddie’s lips on his neck as he smiles and presses a kiss to his spine. “Because it makes you smile.”

Steve melts. “I’ve gotta go to the store.”

“We’ve gotta go to the store. After we’ve danced in our unfinished bathroom, in our unfinished house. Ours, Stevie, my love. It’ll take however long it takes, but this is ours. Just like the ridiculous ragamuffins you adopted all those years ago.”

“You adopted them. They adopted me.”

“And then you adopted them right back, quit with the minutiae when I’m making a point.” A teasing finger pokes Steve’s side. “Just like Robin, and Nance, and Wayne. They’re ours, our family, and they’ll be here as soon as we tell them we need help.”

“I don’t want to need help.” He sighs after a pause. “This is one of those bring-it-up-in-therapy things, isn’t it?”

“Probably so, Stevie, my love.” A slow kiss to his spine. He shivers. “But for now, we’re going to dance. We’ll go to the store. We’ll call at least Nancy, because she scares me and will probably shave our heads in our sleep if she finds out we were struggling and didn’t ask for help. And even through all that, this will be our house. After all that, this will still be our house.”

Steve turns around in Eddie’s arms, silences him with a quick kiss. “Ours, Eddie, my love,” he agrees.

[ambrosia-ghostie]

i am so upset.

here are my real-time thoughts from tua series finale, i guess:

- is gun control not a thing in this timeline? jeez

- i don’t even know where i’d get a gun lmao

- this is giving MAGA… yikes

- i love meghan so much. national treasure. AND she can sing. EGOT, please.

- lila isn’t the only one hiding stuff from her husband 👀

- diego talking about lila with a new lease on life 🥺

- awh this is very “it’s a wonderful life”

- lila’s family is fab. the spinoff we need.

- i love how many actors get to perform as other actors performing another role on this show

- the whistle !!! call him out dr. jean !!!

- THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY

- dr. jean deserved better !!! 😭

- i love the fast food lady (featured extra). she understood the assignment.

- “it smells so nice in here!” why are me and klaus the same person but completely different?

- call back to viktor drawing the umbrella tattoo as a kid !!!

- holy shit, ben is the fly

- body horror is so cool

- oh hey! they’re seeing each other and it’s neither a wedding nor a funeral

- klaus still eating because he deserves it - just give him all the nourishment, please

- why do they always wait to tell each other the most important thing ??? one brain cell - i stg

- “not during christmas” - oh, diego. for those of us with chaotic families, it’s always on christmas

- klaus scooping up five’s empty seat is such big family/sibling energy

- “i didn’t see that one coming!” klaus, luther, and allison look just as confused as i still am

- THIS IS SO WEIRD AND RANDOM

- LITTLE GRACE NOOOO

- time travel is wild. five was right in s1 - i am not smart enough for it.

- “do you love him?” 🥺

- cronenberg would love this. i wonder how much of the virus effect is practical vs. cgi

- klaus’s clothes make a lot more sense for the final showdown since he probably borrowed from one of lila’s relatives

- luther’s borrowed clothing is a bit too luther to be believably borrowed tho

- this is my favorite van 🚐 set piece since little miss sunshine

- allison pulling the emergency brake is the ultimate mom arm 💪

- i too, like five, always end up in the subway (as a new yorker)

- oh shit, i just realized that no one probably told klaus how ben really died - ugh

- but, you know what, allison probably didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy with more trauma so i’ll let the lack of communication slide this time

- “i can fly now! oh it hurts”

- aim for the tanks… like jaws… the… 🦈 ?

- sigh, five and diego beef is just really not necessary - i’m annoyed

- “my hand is stuck in its ass” !!!

- FIVE AND DIEGO STOP THIS NONSENSE

- WHO CARES ??? this romance is not that important, dude. you’ve been trying to save your family for decades, my guy 😭

- oh damn - is five going to find the right subway station now?

- if they all forget everything like fucking dorothy in kansas, i’m going to be so mad

- holy shit - PET CEMETARY, but like PET SEMETERY !!! you can’t bring someone back, not really… that’s the show 😭

- netflix loves their stephen king

- this is also the lesson in 11/22/63… JFK… yeah

- i could write a thesis on this rn

- we got our coffee shop AU ?!?!

- can i be “cheesecake five”?

- oh… oh no

- THE COMMISSION! THE FOUNDER! AHHHH

- no no no

- don’t make my children not exist 😭

- THIS ISN’T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR

- i’m sobbing… out of hurt and anger, tbh

- the children/family are on the lifeboats 💔

….

….

…

i’m not going to be ok for a while

klaus didn’t find out how ben died ???

wouldn’t ghost ben have been able to tell him ???

they really did borrow from stephen king because the alien reginald plot was pointless (i’m looking at you, under the dome)

all in all, i’m glad i got to spend time with these characters… we could have gotten even fewer seasons based on how netflix operates. but this ending could have been written/executed so much better.

i would have even smiled if the last scene was with everyone in the void. but no. we get the original ending of the little mermaid with the marigolds instead of sea foam 😫

there were parts of it i did like - especially the cleanse - but i feel like we all deserved better…

i dedicate this post to the memory of dave, sissy, ray, and every other beautiful character who ultimately became disposable. 💔

[kristiemewisstan]

The Tortured Poets Department Unhinged First Listen Review:

Fortnight-

NEEDS MORE POSTY, we love a “I wanna kill her”, this one MIGHT BE about Matty Healy lol “I touched you for only a fortnight”

The Tortured Poets Department-

“WHO USES TYPEWRITERS ANYWAY” YOU BITCH ITS YOU LOL, Charlie Puth name drop 🤨 oh god so many name drops, THIS BRIDGE, not the wedding ring…

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys-

THERE WAS A LITANY OF REASONS WHY WE SHOULDVE PLAYED FOR KEEPS THIS TIME my jaw literally dropped the entire last verse

Down Bad-

“Everything comes up teenage petulance” this one is cringy but in a way I love, Taylor Is Very Much A Down Bad Girlie

So Long, London-

this song is tachycardic I PROMISE I MADE THIS JOKE BEFORE “STOPPED CPR”, two graves one gun I SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME BUT WHERE WAS THE CLUES damn she’s really sad to lose London huh

But Daddy I Love Him-

this would have a cool music video “she’s was chaos he was revelry” this is if red and the 1975 had a child that’s the vibe

Fresh Out the Slammer-

Okay so this is the “I just realized how bad this relationship truly was and thank god I’m out of it”, okay the weird slow down stuff wasn’t my favorite thing

Florida!!!-

I’m cackling, THE FLORENCE VERSE IS SO GOOD I think that this is just a Florence and the machine song it sounds so like them

Guilty as Sin?-

Okay this is the first one I’ve been like “oooooo I really like this one” “what if I roll the stone away, they’re gonna crucify me anyway” DAMN some religious imagery will always get me right in the trauma

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?-

This one has a lot of the brain scratching pauses “don’t you worry folks we took out all her teeth” oof this song is just really angry

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)-

Cowboy Like Me but they don’t end up happy, okay “good boy” made me giggle so apparently in a 12 year old boy

loml-

PIANO! WANT IVE WANTED THE WHOLE TIME “still alive, killin time at the cemetery, never quite buried” I’m getting a gun and flying to London, I swear “TALKING RINGS AND TALKING CRADLES 🤨” JOE ALWYN FOUND DEAD IN A DITCH “THE LOSS OF MY LOVE” COUNT YOUR DAYS JOSEPH 💀, this should’ve been track 5

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart-

hello production that is giving Barbie movie/80s vibes, this is the first one I’m certain was written recently like it was definitely written on tour, the peppy “cause I’m miserable!” Hurt Me but also same

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived-

THE BREATH ahhhhh PIANO! “I don’t even want you back I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal” okay back half of the album is eating, THE PICKUP, SPEAK NOW VIBES BUT MOM IS OLDER AND MADDER

The Alchemy-

ok ok ok “I circled you on a map I haven’t come around in so long but I’m coming back so strong” fucking meant,👌 touchdown mention lmao, okay this is SO ABOUT TRAVIS 🥹🥰

Clara Bow-

Best production on the album in the first 10 seconds, BEAUTY IS THE BEAST THAT ROSE, WAIT WHAT????? “You look like Taylor Swift” yeah queen because you are lol, It’s so people can make the audio of her singing all the album names lmao

First Overall Listen- 7/10

I was getting nervous in the front half but the back half more than made up for it

The vibe was just off at the start and honestly that’s probably a me thing and will get better with further listens

The lyrics were amazing as always

Production was okay, some of the songs were perfect and some had me going 🤨

Charlie Puth

Top 3 in no particular order (apparently I like songs that hurt me):

Guilty as Sin?

loml

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

[alixident]

the perfect pair | lee felix

a/n: hey loves! this is another felix story I thought of and I hope u like it!

disclaimer: fangirling, lovable felix, cringe? also please excuse the grammar errors. thanks!

__ it’s the day of the concert. My hands start to vibrate frequently as I take deep breaths to calm myself down. It’s no use. I can’t take my mind off of him. He’s too handsome and too amazing to forget. if your wondering what I’m doing, im waiting in line to go see the best of all K-pop groups. I’ve been a fan of them since day 1. What am I so worried about? Seeing him. Who is him? Felix.

I start bopping my head slightly before we start to move closer to the stadium. I start to shake more. I’m nervous but so excited at the same time. I don’t know what to think anymore.

Finally, from what seemed like hours, I’m finally in. I make my way to the front row as I stand up to look for him. A lump in my throat starts to form as my nervous side slowly takes over me. it’s time. I look up and I hear there music start playing around me, screaming everywhere, seas of lightsticks go up in the air as I join them. I see him. It’s him. I suddenly stop waving my lightstick in the air, I feel like I’m going to pass out. Is that really him? I think to myself. a lot of people are screaming his and hyunjins name, I don’t care. I scream louder. “LEE FELIX!!!!!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Some people around me stare at my reaction towards him. Again, I don’t care. they bow and they introduce themselves. After a bit of talking, it’s finally time for the songs. Felix starts walking around the stage close to me. I try to get his attention by waving, but of course that doesn’t work. Finally, he walks over to my side and gives waves to everyone, I say his name and he looks over at me and gives me the most sweetest smile. I see his small dimples and I feel my face warm up. I feel so much better now. “Felix!!” I say as I try to start a conversation, or at least something. But he just looks over at me again and smiles. I can’t do it. “Felix!! I love you!!” I say as I feel my face warm up again. He looks over at me and finally gets off the stage and walks over to me, the crowd around me goes wild as my face lights up. he sees my phones in my hand. “Do you mind?” He says finally. I look at my phone and then look at him. He say what now? I give him my phone as he swipes to the side and he puts it on video. he puts his arm around my shoulder as he starts singing his part of a song. Which I believe is MANIAC but I can’t hear over all the screaming around me. He finish’s his part and then suddenly gets closer to me. He kisses my cheek. i freeze as he laughs at my reaction and stops recording, he hands my phone back to me and pats my shoulder. He talks with other fans before getting back on the stage and interacting with the members. I'm still standing there in shock, people around me are screaming at me, filled with anger and jealousy. I start to smile. Pure happiness fills my body as I wave my lightstick again, all the worry in the world has finally faded away from my body. I keep staring at Felix. My eyes never leave his moves. I’m in love.

__ the concert finally comes to an end as I walk out of the stadium. I feel someone tap my back. I turn my head and see him. Felix. He’s holding up something to me. “Have this” he says as he hands the pieces of paper up to me.

“O-oh! Thanks!” I say with a warm smile, he smiles back at me as he walks off “Cya there!” He says as he walks backstage. I look confused. I don’t really bother to look at the paper because of the group of people around me won’t allow me.

I make it to my car as I get in and sigh. This was the best day of my life. I finally look at the paper felix gave me. I look closer and see the words VIP pass on it. My eyes widen as my jaw drops. Is this really happening? Is this really fucking happening?!

My face closes as I smiled wider, I must be the happiest person alive right now. This is a moment that I will cherish for the rest of my life. A moment that I will never forget. a moment that will make my dreams come true. “I love you Lee Felix.” __ this was so much fun to make.. Felix is the sweetest. 25 likes/notes for pt2! please feel free to request !

[sophfandoms53]

Anon from before, I can’t keep talking because I don’t have anything else to add expect maybe Striker got other things he cared about besides his family taken away from that terrible day too. I don’t know I don’t have any else to add sorry. 😫 Although I will ask, what do you think of the song “In My Sights”?

NOOO YOU’RE FINEEEE

It gave me like a bunch of ideas to think about and I will never turn down any Striker thoughts so thank you for that🫶

There’s already been some theories about Striker losing what would’ve been his bar based on all the cluttered stuff he has around his lair, so that’s something to think about, and it connects back to his line to Blitz in HMF about how not many imps start businesses on their own yk.

Part of my backstory for Striker that I hope to share properly soon but my anxiety hates me LMAO has to do with him losing his wife and daughter (this man is so girl-dad shaped i promise) alongside his family that day and that little idea has become an entire google doc and timeline😭 I’ve had a lot fun with it and I wanna share ittttt, especially his wife I made bc I absolutely adore her sm she’s one of my favorite OC’s I’ve made bc I designed her to be this direct contrast to Striker in like every where, even down to her name, and i just ughhhh I love her and I love them. I even have an entire fic of them already done too.

AS FOR IN MY SIGHTS WELL UH….

Spotify wrapped aboutta have my neck this year LMAOO

rt i can write an essay about how fucking good I think In My Sights is and how it absolutely captures EVERYTHING about Striker’s character and story thus far. Every time I listen to it (which is often clearly) I ALWAYS find something new to appreciate.

And omgggg Ed’s vocals make me meltttttt.

I’ve never really talked about Striker’s voice change on here before but I truly don’t mind it and I actually adjusted to Ed’s performance rather quickly. As iconic as Norman’s was, I just feel Ed fits Striker’s character a lot better and we’ve been able to see more sides of him through Ed’s performance. Ed is such a wonderful voice talent and it saddens me people don’t appreciate his Striker enough because they’re still stuck on Norman. There’s so much range in Ed’s performance and I rlly enjoy him a lot.

I was always begging to hear how Ed would sing for Striker once he took over the character bc Sweet Victory was Norman’s little song (this song is so stupid i love it so) and he ate that up so ofc I was like Ed needs to sing too duh. I already knew he could sing bc I was a Hunicast viewer and heard that man sing as Alastor. So I wondered if he could do the same given Striker’s country accent and lower tone.

SO WHEN I TELL YOU MY JAW DROPPED WHEN HE HIT THOSE HIGH NOTES AT THE END OF THE SONG😭

Thoroughly impressed fr.

Just a fun little song that gives insight (lol) on our cowboy that I can dissect like every lyric of even if it’s not canon.

Although now that we got shorts coming out…. In My Sights AMV when???? Jk that probably won’t happen but i can be a little delusional during the drought okay LMAOO

[thelovelybitten]

vera talks mlb: the movie — thoughts and drabbles

I cant even breathe rn, I watched the movie 4 hours ago and here’s my (now) settled thoughts about it.

picture of how I felt in that moment:

warning: spoilers for the MLB movie :DDD

so I have been a fan of this show since it came out, god I was FUCKING 16 then and now I’m 24 jfc…. it’s so wild how much time has passed.

now, the main show was SO good until season 4. I stopped watching the show all together because of how messy the plot was, Gabriel being the biggest pos known to man & how stalkerish they made Marinette (not to mention totally delulu and borderline insane (though, with all due respect, its a lot for a 15? 16 year old ???) but they could have written it better imo.)

not only Marinette but Adrien still being a small minor role (it’s always ladybug doing the damn thing but chat noir is left doing nothing it’s fucking sad he deserves so much better) and him just being shit on the last 3 seasons. he deserves more screentime and character development.

I also couldn’t handle adrien being a senti-monster, but we ain’t gonna talk abt that.

so I left the fandom all together.

but this movie. this. god. damn. movie.

this is HOW THE SHOW SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN THE FIRST PLACE. the character development with Marinette and Adrien is AMAZING and feels more realistic to me— they really drive on how unlucky Marinette is and how lucky adrien is (to an extent for adrien, but I digress). and the whole library scene made me giggle it was so cute. Marinette being infatuated but not a stalker was nice to see.

movie ladybug & chat noir sparked my feelings for the fandom all together. how cocky chat noir is, ladybug being anxious to fail but finding solace with chat made my heart all warm. every scene they had together I was kicking my feet and screaming like a child. (they own me, lol)

I have to specifically mention THE FUCKING FIGHT SCENE WHERE CHAT NOIR HAS LADYBUG PINNED TO THE WALL BC WHEN IT HAPPENED I HAD TO PAUSE, LEARN HOW TO BREATHE AGAIN, COLLECT MY THOUGHTS AND CONTINUE. THE PURE TENSION IN THAT MOMENT. “I really should go home now.” “don’t” DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME ?!?!?! GOD IM STILL SCREAMING ABT IT 😭😭😭 they had electric hearts babe DONT EVEN LIE

their chemistry in the film just. made me feel things. they have an amazing dynamic and it was utilized. i wish it was more prevalent in the show series—the banter was everything.

I definitely was caught off guard when cristina wasn’t singing, but I got used to it

master fu was also super good too !! I defo prefer him in the show but movie fu slayed

chloe being chloe but not overdoing it made me :)))).

even alya and nino were written exceptionally.

tikki was written well, loved her, but plagg made me give him the side eye… where is his annoying ass. he can make fart jokes but please keep his sly demeanour.

gabriel was extremely well written, might just be the best character that was re-vamped imo. his storyline made sense and it wasn’t completely heartless…. using the miraculous and him slowly getting weaker and weaker made so much sense. (the musical number tho, SO FUNNY)—but god, when he found out chat noir was adrien he stopped. stopped everything. he loves his son so much, just as much as he loves emilie. we’ll see where the potential next movie goes with him, but lord his character is what I wish show gabriel was like.

the end scene at the ball made my jaw DROP. marinette looked amazing in her dress oh my god— and then the almost kiss I was MAD but also happy bc after that it opened the door for a sequel so ILL TAKE IT.

also when marinette takes off adrien’s mask and puts it on was so fucking cute 😭 the atmosphere was all warm and wholesome.

also giving props to chloe because her gold dress ate down.

sabine gave me helen parr vibes and i don’t know why.

tom being the overprotective dad 😭

anyways, i probably missed some things

but this movie, in my opinion, ate the show for breakfast and became the meal i’ve wanted for several years. MOVIE IS 1000x better than the show series and i stand by that statement forever.

if you haven’t seen it, watch it immediately.

[aajjks]

tc!jungkook

ooh... no, you wanted me, didn't you? you caught me.... *she whispers, leaving a kiss on his jaw* you brought me here, trapped me, like some kind of animal *she kisses him again, slightly cupping at his crotch* and then you made me work for it... so I don't think so. try to catch me again *she hops off his lap, gathers her dress and moves towards the door* and if you do, you can do whatever you want to me, fuck me in any way you want. I love you, your highness.

(no that was just my cat walking on my keyboard, it wasn't me 🫣😶‍🌫️ also hello again my favorite teacher didn't you say he had a dubcon/predator prey kink 🫠 I pay attention in alina's classes)

“oh my God, I’m going to fucking catch you- my sweet little lamb is gonna make me work so hard for this, so you will have to pay once I catch you.” He sighs before composing himself. Because you’ve got him so hard.

He takes in a deep breath before he’s running off right behind you. “you better run fast or once I catch you…. You can’t escape me.” He growls, because he’s really going insane right now.

You have no idea what you do to him. And he’s going to show you how much you test him, everyone is watching, but he doesn’t care because he’s frantically looking for you.

His eyes don’t even lose your figure for even a moment because, he can’t lose you right now, and it’s really fun to watch the way your hips bounce with each step you take running away from him.

Do you really think that he won’t catch you?

“Ynnnnnn!~~~ where are you?” He whispers in a sing song voice, you both have exited the golden wing of the palace and this is near the entrance of the dungeon hall.

Are you really going to make him fuck you in this dark horrid place? But it’s honestly a good thing because no one will be able to see you but..

A lot of the prisoners are going to be hearing you moan out his name like a bitch like a bitch in heat. You’re still running away he can see the way your hair bounces in the air.. your pretty dress is also dancing in the wind.

He’s right behind you. He can hear your heartbeat.

“Ynnn!~~” he coos, in a sadistic way. He’s so close to having you. And just like that before you can take another step, he catches up to you and without a warning he grabs you by your waist and pulls you towards him.

Your body turns towards his and now you’re facing him.

Jungkook looks into your eyes and he’s pretty sure you can see the feral look in his eyes. “Little lamb has been caught… now I get what I deserve.”

He says before he’s pinning you against the hard brick wall, you gasp in surprise and he takes the moment to grab your hands and pin them right above your head.

He can’t have misbehaving now, but when he’s so impatient, and horny.

Jungkook then proceeds to lock his lips with yours, taking away your breath, his kiss is intense just like his feelings for you.

He’s burning up with desire right now.

You’re going to burn too.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine the Ember Island Players creating a romance between you and Zuko which hits a little too close to home

You sat beside Katara and noticed how Zuko sat on the other side of her. Aang faltered, obviously wanting to sit there and you smirked as Zuko obliviously missed Aang’s look. Zuko had been with the group a few weeks now but his social skills still weren’t very good and you found it made for some very interesting interactions. His attempt at telling jokes alone made you smile every time you saw him for a full week afterwards and you found Zuko did a lot of things that amused you but apparently not so much the others. “I was going to sit there” Aang whined and Zuko shrugged “so? Just sit next to me”. Aang pouted and you laughed to yourself “here” you said standing up “take my seat Aang” and you moved so he could sit beside Katara. Katara was oblivious and you sat on the other side of Zuko chuckling at Aang’s blush. “What was that all about?” Zuko asked and you smiled “ow nothing you just almost ruined Aang’s evening”. Zuko frowned and went to ask what you meant when the lights dimmed so you knocked his arm shaking your head “i’ll tell you later now shhh”. Zuko folded his arm huffily but stopped talking. The play was wonderfully awful. As you hadn’t joined the gang straight away you knew you had time to just enjoy the first few acts and make fun of the way they portrayed all your friends. Plus what could they do to your character? You didn’t have any old flames like Katara or Sokka and you didn’t have an emotional backstory like Zuko or Aang. So you relaxed arms spread over the back of the bench and waited for *yourself* to make an appearance.

The second your actress walked on stage you knew it wouldn’t be good. They had your character all wrong! Your actress flirted with everyone and acted like a lovesick idiot. You didn’t think it could get much worse and then your character met Zuko’s.

“I’ll save you from the pirates” Zuko’s character purred to yours and you spluttered. “That...that wasn’t even me! That was Katara!” you whispered angrily. You looked to Zuko for confirmation who nodded “yeah I didn’t say that to you...and I certainly didn’t tie you up while staring at you like that”. “And I did not flirt with you like that either”. You both glared as your characters bonded and they actually invented Zuko letting you go voluntarily. As Zuko’s character stared off into the distance and said your name you heard Sokka and Suki wheezing from laughter while you simmered with anger and embarrassment. “I didn’t do that!” Zuko cried and you saw he was blushing vividly. That made you blush too and crossed your arms tightly “they better not stick with this theme”.

Of course they did. By the time act 3 had ended you and Zuko were living a star crossed lovers lifestyle in Ba Sing Sei. They again got you mixed up with Katara and said Azula kidnapped you to lure Zuko to the Earth King’s palace. The act ended with Zuko charging in to save you, offering his own life in exchange for yours, but Azula outmanoeuvred him and arrested him too. As the lights went up for intermission you and Zuko paused before exploding.

“That never even happened!”.

“I knew he was in Ba Sing Sei but we never went on a date”.

“Yeah that was a different girl”.

“And you did not fight with Jet over me”.

“I didn’t even know you knew Jet!” Zuko agreed and you both paused for air.

The gang all looked at each other before bursting into laughter. “What is so funny?” you cried and Sokka smiled. “We all know none of that stuff happened, we were there too remember?”. “Yeah so...can’t we rant?” you asked. “Well yeah but why get so mad about it? Are you trying to convince us or yourselves that the idea the two you flirted is so impossible?”. You and Zuko exploded again at the thought and Sokka and the others burst into laughter again. “All i’m saying is this is a lot of emotion to come from nowhere” Sokka smiled “now i’m going backstage so yell at each other or something” and he disappeared with Suki. Katara and Toph left for snacks and Aang went to the toilet leaving the two of you alone. “But i mean it is ridiculous” you muttered and Zuko nodded “utterly ridiculous”. “Sure we ended up together a few times” you shrugged “but that was completely by chance, it wasn’t like you were hyper-aware of me or vice versa”. “Yeah not at all” Zuko agreed but he wasn’t looking you in the eye for some reason. You stared at him confused and noticed his neck looked slightly red as if he was blushing. “Wait did you?” you asked suddenly “notice me more?”. Zuko looked up and he was indeed blushing deeply “what I....of course not! I never...I mean I did learn your name before anyone else’s but that’s because we spent that time together when I helped the pirates kidnap you and you wouldn’t shut up the whole night”. “Then why are you blushing so much?” you asked and Zuko shrugged “I don’t know I...it’s just them insinuating I like you. I’ve had it a lot”. “You have?” you asked amazed and Zuko nodded “when my uncle heard you’d seen me in Ba Sing Sei and that we’d reached a deal not to tell on one another he had this annoying smirk like i’d done it for any other reason besides the fact it was mutually beneficial. Then when I went back home Azula made it seem like me and you had a thing and Mai got jealous and started asking about you and I had to explain all our interactions and it was very awkward...she wanted me to reassure her by putting you down and making the idea seem impossible but I must have failed because she didn’t believe me. So I guess that’s why it makes me feel weird, everyone keeps telling me I act differently with you and I suppose I do but I have no idea if that’s because everyone keeps saying it or if I always have”. You nodded your head but were unsure what to say. “Well which one do you think it is?” you asked eventually and Zuko paused “what?”. “If you had to guess, would you say you act differently around me because of what people say about us or have you just always acted that way”. Zuko thought, staring at the ground and basically anywhere but at you, “i’m not sure but I guess maybe the second? They must have got it from somewhere I suppose”. “The second?” you asked surprised and Zuko’s blush returned vividly “I’m only guessing, I honestly don’t know”. You nodded your head and went to speak when the others returned which stopped you right in your tracks.  

The second half of the play began of course with you and Zuko reuniting in the prison under Ba Sing Sei. You and Zuko did end up there together but you definitely did less staring at one another. You rolled your eyes as your characters began to passionately speak to one another stepping closer and closer. They finally reached one another and you laughed when your character began yelling at Zuko’s. “Ha maybe they got some things right!” you whispered to Zuko who nodded “you did yell at me a lot”. You smirked and went to apologise when Zuko’s character kissed yours. You and Zuko abruptly shot away from each other. “That is not even close to what happened!” you cried at the others who were all laughing. Zuko nodded “this is just slander! They didn’t even bother to try to get our characters right and anyone with half a brain would realise that!”. Someone shushed Zuko and he glared “shush yourself” he cried before storming from the room. He didn’t return for the rest of the play and honestly you thought that was probably wise. It got worse and worse. They still kept in Zuko’s betrayal of Iroh but changed it making you at the centre of Zuko’s struggle. He chose the crown and they made you react dramatically (even getting a love ballad moment). They then skipped forwards to Zuko at the palace, who got his own song when he realised he’d made the wrong choice. Your characters reunited not long after and promptly confessed their love for one another. Then you were both murdered by Ozai very much in line with the tragic forbidden lovers style.

“I mean I’m just glad she’s dead” you shrugged on your way out “anything to end that romance”. The others smirked when Aang paused “do you think Zuko went back home to the villa?” looking around for the angry fire prince. “No he knows we don’t know this place well, he’s probably just sat outside somewhere” you replied looking around but you couldn’t see him brooding anywhere either. When you walked out the front door and still didn’t spot him Aang frowned “okay everyone split up and look for him, meet back here in five minutes”.

You returned five minutes later to see Katara, Suki, Sokka and Toph all hadn’t found him either. “I wonder where he is” Katara frowned and you shrugged “he’ll be fine, that boy has nine lives”. “He didn’t in that play” Toph commented and you nodded. “True but that play was a mess and there’s one thing I still can’t get over. Zuko said his family and friends thought he liked me that’s where his side of this rumour started but in the play they acted like I encouraged him! Where on earth did they get that idea?”. The group all went quiet and you paused “what?”. “Well...I mean you kinda do encourage him” Sokka frowned and your jaw dropped “I DO NOT! When have I ever...”. “When we got kidnapped by the pirates you teased Zuko constantly and refused to be quiet until he spoke to you” Katara pointed out. “Yes but that was to annoy him not flirt with him!”. “Okay how about when June asked if you were his girlfriend and you replied he wishes instead of no?”. “I was joking” you shrugged and Toph smirked “or how about when I was sneaking out to see Zuko at the Western Air Temple and found you already on your way to see him? What were you popping in to see Zuko for huh y/n? Nice date by the campfire?”. “I was doing the same thing as you! I was going to see if he would tell the truth and given that I knew him best I thought I....”. The gang all erupted and you paused “what?”. “You know him best?” Sokka asked smirking and you nodded “that doesn’t mean anything it’s a fact”. “Ow is it?” Sokka asked and you nodded “It is! Fine if I don’t know him best what was his fake name in Ba Sing Sei?”. Everyone went quiet and you nodded “or how about how long ago he was banished from the fire nation? Better yet just tell me his parent’s names!” you cried. When nobody replied you smirked folding your arms victoriously “told you I know him best”. “Yeah you’ve definitely proved how much you know about Zuko” Suki smirked looking past you. You frowned before you heard someone behind you. You turned to see Aang had found Zuko and by the look on his face he’d heard everything. You blushed and looked down “Zuko we were...”. “Having a competition to see who knows me best?” Zuko asked mildly amused and you paused “well sort of...Sokka started it”. “No I didn’t” Sokka retorted “you declared you knew Zuko the best and when I asked if you were sure you started spouting your favourite facts about him”. “They’re not my favourite facts about him” you snapped and Sokka’s smirk just grew “whatever y/n” and he turned leading the way home. The others all followed and purposefully made it so you and Zuko were at the back. “Why were you talking about me anyway?” Zuko asked and you paused “ow nothing I was just er...trying to work out why the Ember Island Players thought I had a thing for you but the gang was not helpful”. “They couldn’t think of a reason?” Zuko asked innocently and you frowned “no they could actually think of lots of reasons, it appears similar to your family they were also under the impression I held a flame for you as it were”. “Ow really?” Zuko asked. He kept his voice flat but you could swear he was smirking slightly. “Stop enjoying this” you whined pushing him “it’s not funny, it’s embarrassing”. “Liking me is embarrassing?” Zuko asked and you paused “no I didn’t mean that, I just meant having all your friends claim you like someone when you can’t see it”. “You really can’t see where they’re coming from?” Zuko asked and you shook your head “nope not at all”. Zuko looked away and you frowned “I saw that, what did that look mean?”. “Nothing...” Zuko trailed off but you sighed grabbing him by the arm to make him look at you “I’m sick of everyone saying things about me for once just say it to my face!”. Zuko sighed “fine, I just think i’ve been honest with you but you’re not being honest with yourself”. “Not being honest?”. Zuko nodded “Yes, I admitted I could see where my family were coming from and how the rumours started but you’re acting as if they plucked them out of thin air!”. “Well maybe they did! I don’t see how any of our interactions could be interpreted as romantic”. Zuko didn’t look convinced. “You don’t think there’s some truth to what the Ember Island Players said? That maybe there is something here?” Zuko asked gesturing to the small gap between you. “No of course not! Do you?”. “No” Zuko yelled back and you nodded “fine! You are the most infuriating...” you started when Zuko grabbed you kissing you. You initially tensed at the sensation but soon melted into it. Zuko seemed to be trying to prove a point by kissing you passionately and not wanting him to win you kissed him back matching his intensity. Finally Zuko pulled away for air and stared at you “still not want to admit there’s something here?”. You stared at Zuko torn between admitting he was right and your pride. You were annoyed, frustrated, excited and exhilarated all at once. You were breathing rapidly, your cheeks bright red as were Zuko’s and neither of you made to move away. “I...” you started eventually “that was a good kiss”. Zuko nodded, his frustration melting away “it was, I enjoyed it...I’ve been wondering what it would feel like to kiss you for a while now”. “You have?” you asked and Zuko nodded “as annoying as it is to admit my family and friends were right, I like you and I have for a while”. You smiled despite yourself at how adorable Zuko looked all bashful and embarrassed. “I tried ignoring it for a while but then when I joined the group your friends all saw it straight away. Then tonight...the play was bad but I was frustrated that everyone seemed to see it apart from you the person I actually wanted to see it...you”. You looked down wondering how to reply “I’m sorry I bet that was really frustrating”. Zuko nodded “It was and I figured this was just one-sided but that...did you feel it too?”. Zuko looked so unsure and unlike himself it was endearing and gave you confidence. “Yes” you said shakily “after that kiss I can tell you it is definitely not one-sided. I like you too Zuko and probably have since the start”. “Probably?” Zuko asked and you sighed “I’m not good with my emotions, I can be oblivious to them so I can’t with certainty tell you it’s been going on as long as the play made it out to be but I know I like you. Right now in this moment...I hope that’s enough, I know it’s a shit confession and you probably wanted something more solid but I...”. Zuko began laughing and you paused “what’s so funny?”. “Something more solid? Y/n I’m on the run from the Firelord who is my father, my sister is hunting me to kill me and I could very likely be imprisoned for the rest of my life if Aang fails and that’s if i’m lucky...I’m not even sure if I have a future so trust me all I need is the present. To know in this moment right here you like me back” Zuko blushed but he stepped closer and took your hands “that’s more than enough for me”. “It is?” you asked and Zuko nodded “yes and if by some chance it becomes more long-term I’ll be very happy but for now I just want to enjoy this time with you”. You smiled and leant in to kiss Zuko again when someone coughed. “Hey what are you two doing?” Sokka called. Apparently the others had finally realised the two of you were no longer with the group and walked back to find the two of you as you currently were. Luckily it was dark so you moved away from Zuko but still held his hand. “Yeah we thought you’d gotten lost are you okay?” Katara called. Zuko sighed and you smirked at his expression. “We’re fine” you smiled “we were just talking and Zuko’s going to show me this beach he went to a lot as a kid”. Zuko’s eyes shot up to yours and he smiled. “You are?” Aang asked and Zuko nodded “yep, it’s not far from here so we won’t be long. You guys head back to the villa and we’ll meet you there” and with that Zuko tugged you away from the others. You smiled at Zuko and he smiled back at you “quick thinking, I didn’t think we’d get out of there so easily”. “You can thank me later” you replied when you heard Sokka gasp “wait are they holding hands? Y/n are you holding hands?”. “Run!” Zuko cried and you laughed but did as he said. You kept running even after Sokka’s voice trailed off and only stopped when you reached a sandy beach. You both collapsed on the ground and you turned to look at Zuko “did you know this was here or did you get lucky?”. “Totally the former” he smiled and you shook your head “you’re lucky I like you”. “I really am” Zuko agreed and he stared at your face tenderly. His fingers brushed your cheek and you smiled “what are you waiting for?”. “I have no idea” Zuko admitted and he leant in to reclaim the lost kiss from earlier. This time you weren’t interrupted.

[the-apprentice-lia]

Hey! I saw that you do headcanons as well? Sorry if I’m asking in the right place but I loved your post on Asra’s hurt!! Could you possibly do the “mc getting slapped by the m6” ask please? My angsty little heart needs foodddd

hiii!! i’m so glad you liked my post:)) don’t worry, i’ll do my best to not cry when i’m writing this although it probably won’t work

i just wanna say that under no circumstances is it okay to hurt your partner!! please don’t take this post the wrong way:)

the main 6 slapping mc

asra

• it probably started because of how much he keeps from you. you know it’s just because he doesn’t want to see you hurt or unhappy because of how much of your life you’ve lost to your premature death, but it’s still so infuriating. you’re not a child, and you tell him as much.

• as much as you love each other, arguments can get messy. you know so much about each other that it’s difficult not to go for the soft parts in an argument, and you just snap.

• they’re probably running his hands through his hair, tears of frustration and pent up feelings slipping down his cheeks and catching the light of the many candles around the shop, making them glister strangely beneath the low light.

• “asra, you’re being ridiculous. how in the arcana am i supposed to know about who i was if you won’t fucking tell me?” you shout at them, crystals and glass bottles clinking together on the shelves.

• asra breaks, finally raising his voice as well, telling you that you’re acting like a child. you feel a twisted feeling of satisfaction at his loss of control. at least they’re actually treating you like a person— but you’re still so frustrated.’why can’t he just see that you’re not a china doll, easily broken and delicately made?

•you’re screaming now, tears blurring your vision. all you see is red. “if i’m acting like such a child then why did you even bother bringing me back? you should have just fucking left me to rot beneath the lazaret if you won’t so much as—” you’re cut off with a sharp crack.

• asra’s stronger than they look, and he wasn’t thinking as he lashed out in anger and pain, so you probably stumble back into the shelves behind you, or onto the counter of the shop.

• you touch your hand to your hot cheek with a dull feeling of surprise. it’s as if everything is through a haze, your gaze flickering up to meet asra’s horrified one as you take a step back, a dry sob heaving through your chest as your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

• “mc, i’m so sorry, i can’t— i don’t— please. i’m so sorry,” he stumbles over his words as he crouches before you, giving you enough space that you could easily leave. you don’t, and he breathes out slowly as they reach towards you and gently, heartbreakingly softly, cups your face to turn it towards him. he inhales sharply as he takes in your bruised cheekbone, red already beginning to spread outwards in the shape of his hand, and he flinches to see that he’s hurt you, his beloved apprentice.

• he opens his arms slowly, hesitantly, and you sink into them, burying your face in his scarves and then drawing back slightly with a faint hiss as your cheek touches the fabric, and he lets out a sob as well, burying his face in your sweet-smelling hair. murmurs “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” into you over and over again, rocking you back and forth on the floor of the shop.

• he’ll hurt for weeks after, even after the bruise fades, he’ll simply refuse to touch you for days after the incident. whispers “but what if i hurt you,” his voice breaking at the mere thought of it, and you cradle him to you, stroking his cheek as he shakes.

nadia

• the argument was probably about her refusing to ask for help. she’s been alone for so long that the refusal simply comes naturally. she has to prove that she can be successful alone, that she can make something of herself without anyone.

• at first, you tell her gently that she can trust you, that you’re always here for her, and that she doesn’t have to do this alone— but she doesn’t want to hear it, telling you insistently that she doesn’t need any help.

• “your dark circles would say otherwise, nadi! you can’t keep going on like this!” you tell her, your voice strained as you lay a hand on her arm. you just want to help her, but she won’t listen to you. “i can do it myself,” she tells you coldly, pulling away from you and turning back to her work. “i don’t need your help. i never have.”

• you feel the hurt blossom in your chest, but you try to push it down as you close her books, smudging the ink on a document by mistake. “nadi, please.” you tell her, but she doesn’t even seem to hear you as she opens her books and sets her jaw, looking at the ruined document. you bite your lip in dismay and go to apologise, but she cuts in before you get the chance. “you ruin everything. you’re such a nuisance, can you not find anything better to do with your time than to bother me? i am the countess of vesuvia, and i don’t need your help.” she’s shouting by the end of her outburst, and you recoil, hurt now showing across your face— but it’s quickly replaced by anger.

• you laugh disbelievingly, your voice spiteful and pained as you speak. “you don’t need my help? well that’s certainly a different tune than the one you were singing when you came to me in the middle of the night, asking for my help. and even then i gave it unbegrudgingly. you’re so stubborn, nadia! you’re so ridiculously naïve that you can’t even see that not everybody’s against you. so your sisters acted like every older sibling the world over, and excluded you from a few games. you carry grudges as if the world’s out to get you and nobody seeks to help you. you’re such a child! why—” your screaming cuts off at the sharp crack.

• you cry out at the sudden flare of pain. nadia’s also a lot stronger than she looks— i mean, she’s a master sword-fighter. and so, you stumble backwards into the marble table opposite her desk, turning away from her to catch your breath, your figure shaking with quiet sobs. everything seems to fall away, and you hold your arms around yourself in a poor attempt to keep your paroxysms of sobs quiet.

• nadia is completely silent. the jarring force snapped her out of whatever tired grumpiness she had been wallowing in, and now she’s just looking at her hands, a look of absolute horror twisting her features as she takes in the hand, resting palm-down on her knees, that she used to— to— she can’t even think about it. she has betrayed your trust, used your relationship, built on a foundation of love and mutual respect, to hurt you. it’s as if she’s seeing the world through a haze of disbelief. she’s taken advantage of your love for her, she’s physically violated you, and the thought of that leaves her physically ill. hot tears drop steadily into her lap, as she turns her hands over, and her eyes widen even more, if possible, with horror. blood glisters thickly on her index finger, coating the closest section to her palm where a golden ring sits. the countess of vesuvia never takes her rings off during the day, and she’s snapped out of her daze by the quiet hiss that comes from where you stand.

•when the first tears stream down your face, you hiss at the sharp pain, touching your fingers gently to your face and wincing as they come into contact with… is that a wound? you stare at them as they come away a deep, garnetine red. your hair is sticking to the blood running down your face from the wound. you sob dryly as the pain sets in, and by the gods it stings. it seems that even the air twists into your opened skin, burning sharply. you’re so lost in the mist of disbelief you barely notice when nadia comes up behind you.

• “my love?” her voice comes, softly, and you stiffen as she lays a hand on your upper arm. she withdraws it quickly as her voice breaks. “please, mc. say anything. look at me, i beg of you.” you don’t say anything for a minute before you inhale softly and turn to her.

• something in nadia breaks. she lifts shaking fingers up to her mouth as your eyes meet hers, and she takes in what she’s done to you. she’s sliced your upper-cheek open from just short of the bridge of your nose to almost the edge of your face. and the cut is deep. bruising spreads around it, in the shape of her hand, and she lets out a sob before dropping to her knees, taking your hand in hers. “by the arcana, mc, i am so, so sorry— i don’t know— i can’t— please, my love, i am so sorry,” she presses her forehead to your hand before you start to cry, sinking to your knees as well and burying your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking. you hiss softly as you draw your hand away and it comes away a glistening, wine-dark red.

• you flinch away from her as she comes to envelop you in a hug. “don’t. please,” you say softly, pulling yourself away from her. you leave bloodstains on the floor. her eyes hold inexplicable sorrow and remorse in them, as she nods haltingly, her heart breaking as she realises— you’re… afraid of her. later, she’ll bury her head into her pillow and sob her heart out but for now, she needs you to know to not be afraid of her. she loves you, you know that— and you need to know she’ll never violate the trust you put in her again.

• “mc… please. i’m so, so inexplicably sorry for what i’ve done to you. i promise it will never happen again.” her voice is soft, and she speaks to you as if you’re a wounded deer she’s found in the palace gardens, her voice breaking as she lets you see that she’s approaching you, her arms in front of her as she holds them out softly when she’s quite close to you.

• you look at her, meet her eyes with yours, and slowly settle into her embrace as she lets out a quiet sob of relief, burying her head in your hair. you pull away with a quiet gasp of pain when her hair meets your wound, and she cups your face (your good side) softly, stroking your cheek with her thumb as you close your eyes and she moves closer to you, giving you the time to pull away before her lips meet your forehead and she kisses you there gently before pressing one just above your cut and pulling you back to her, minding your cheek. you cry softly into her chest, and she does so into your hair. the two of you stay there until the blood starts to dry on your cheek and she stands, helping you up.

• “i’m taking you to the infirmary, dearest one.” “but… nadia.” you gesture to the state you’re in with a raised eyebrow. blood stains your collar and had dripped down your cheek in steady rivulets— and now your entire cheek is coated in blood. the cut itself is deep and thorough, splitting the skin so that the flesh beneath is easily visible, and the black, blue, and red flesh around your cut in the shape of nadia’s hand is enough that there is no room to doubt how your injury happened. “i’m your partner. there’s nobody else that would have done this— your entire court will know.” you look at her gently. “i can hide this.”

• and yet again, nadia’s heart is absolutely crushed. broken. shattered. “my heart, you should not have to hide what i have done. we’re going to the infirmary.”

• the entire way there, nadia weathers the stares and whispers with, for once, a bent head. you tighten your fingers around her hand— you know how important the favour of the court is. when you finally arrive, and you have to explain, haltingly, how you were injured, nadia gets a few looks of unbridled disgust as your injuries are treated. you squeeze her hand every now and again, and she looks at you gratefully. her eyes darken as you bite your lip roughly when the antiseptic meets it, your eyes watering as she strokes your hand, never taking her eyes away from you.

• afterwards, will absolutely doubt herself as a leader and a partner. no matter if you forgive her, no matter that the bruise fades and the wound heals, she’ll still always linger on your scar when she’s kissing your face, she’ll still murmur “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, darling,” into your hair for months after.

• if anyone is so much as even vaguely disdainful towards you with respects to your scar, you’ll literally have to talk her down from having them thrown out/arrested. you forgive her, and she loves you with all of her— but when dark feelings surface now there’s absolutely nothing you can do that will even get a shadow of a rise out of her. is just calm and collected. never so much as raises her voice at you.

• will 100% look at you as you sleep and hate herself for harming you in any way.

hope you enjoyed the angst fest!! these were so long— but i’ll do the next four periodically:)

[gotnofucks]

The Unreformed Rake

Pairing: soft!dark Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a notorious rake, but he seems to have taken a shine to you. When he plans to make you his, nothing would stand in his way. No is not a word he understands.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Slightly dubcon touching, fingering, semi-public touching, forced marriage hinted, 18 + Only

A/N: This is my submission to Siri’s 5k Softdark challenge. Congratulations love @stargazingfangirl18​ , you do us hoes so proud and keep our punanis so happy! I chose the prompt “Come on, just a little taste”. It’s highlighted in the text.

If your corset was a millimeter more tighter, you’d be dead. The mammas cared more about getting their daughters married off than about them making it alive through the ball. You were glad that as a second daughter you didn’t have too many eyes on you. All you had to do was let three to four men twirl you around the dancefloor to appease your mother, and then you could sit back and enjoy watching your older sister Anika try to catch a husband.

Mostly, the balls weren’t too bad. You got to meet with your friends and eat some delicious food without the constant supervision of your mother, sometimes you’d even find a decent dance partner who wouldn’t step on your toes or whose hands wouldn’t wander south of your back. You could have made it through the evening unscathed had one handsome rake not made an appearance.

The moment Lord Huge Ransom Drysdale stepped into the hall, all eyes were on him. And his were on you. He made a spectacular vision, donning the bright colours that most gentlemen stayed away from, and yet he looked more masculine than any of them. The eyes of every unwed lady followed his movements, their mothers urging them to approach him despite his reputation.

Everyone knew Huge Ransom Drysdale was a notorious rake; his stories were told at tea parties in hushed tones and often accompanied by giggles. He was proficient in the art of leaving a trail of broken hearts and stuttering men, but more than that, he was a master at getting under your skin. His eyes hadn’t left you for a moment, fixating on you and your current dance partner who was glued to your side like lichens to rock.

“You dance most marvelously Miss Y/N, would you do me the honour of the next one too?” He asked, looking smitten at you.

“Now now Allen, you wouldn’t hog Miss Y/N’s attention all for yourself, would you?” Lord Drysdale’s mocking voice carried over to you, the man walking languidly until he stood before you. “There are a number of other ladies in want of a partner, if you’d be kind enough to relent Miss Y/N’s hand to me.”

Allen bowed to him, recognizing the superior title and the man who held it. Placing a small kiss on the back of your hand, he beat a hasty retreat from you side like the coward you knew him to be. Lord Drysdale chuckled, raising a brow at you before offering you his arm. You had half a mind to turn your nose at him and storm away, but your mother would have conniptions if she learnt you said no to a Lord.

“You have a lot of nerve and no tact Your Lordship” You said in a whisper, allowing him to grip your hand and bring you closer. The music began and he spun you out gracefully before bringing you back into his body, much closer than was socially acceptable. His fingers were firm around yours, the hand on your waist tight, singeing the flesh underneath with his touch.

“You know I am a tactless bastard, that shouldn’t be news to you.” He said with a charming smile that could fool anybody but you. He put a façade better than any theater artist you knew. He led you around the other dancing bodies dexterously, not looking away from your face. After a moment, he abruptly asked, “Who were those three morons you danced with earlier? Didn’t I sent word that you must keep your dance card empty but for me?”

An appalled gasp escaped you and it was with restraint you kept yourself from bolting away from him. “Are you having me watched?”, You hissed in anger, wrinkling your forehead. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Of course I have people keeping an eye on you. Can’t let anything happen to my future wife.”

Because you couldn’t leave, you did the next best thing. You stepped on his toe with all your might, digging your hell into his feet until he groaned in pain. He retaliated by moving his hand from your waist to your backside, giving a firm squeeze to your ass that had you choking on a scandalized scream.

“Hugh!” You chided through gritted teeth, looking around quickly to see if someone had noticed. Amidst the sea of dancers, nobody focused on you alone, but it would be enough to ruin a lady’s reputation.

“You know that’s not what you call me.”

His blue eyes turned darker, more challenging and predatory as he leaned closer until his chest brushed against you. You struggled, trying to put distance between you as discreetly as possible but he wouldn’t give.

“Let go!” You said, digging your nails into his shoulder to no avail. The thick padding of his clothes prevented any harm.

“Say my name.”

It was an order, one that if not met would hold consequences. People thought they knew the philandering Lord Drysdale, but they had little inkling to the danger that resided just beneath the surface. You knew. Your gaze dropped away from his, head a little bowed in defeat.

“Ransom.” You whispered, and he let out a shuddering breath as if his name on your lips had taken away more from himself than from you. He wouldn’t let you address him as anything else, not you who he claimed would be wearing his ring soon.

The dance slowed to a stop, people clapping, and you pushed away from him, halfheartedly joining in the applause. Ransom stood too close, his hand on your waist still fast and you slapped it away in irritation.

“Look, just stay away from me. I don’t want mamma to see us together.” You said, weaving through the throngs of people and trying to escape him. He followed, keeping at your heels with no problem, playfully pulling at your sleeve.

“Stay away?” He scoffed, almost as if in wonder of your audacity to even demand that. “You’re gonna be Lady Drysdale soon, you need to get used to my presence. I will always be close. Very close.”

You turned on him, raising a finger and wagging it in his face. Heat was settling over your face and neck, seeping beneath your neckline and into your chest that was heaving. Ransom’s eyes trained on the rise and fall of your breast, a wolfish grin on his face as he licked his lips in appreciation and anticipation.  

“I am not going to marry you Ransom!” You yelled in a whisper, amazed at his arrogance. “You keep away from me.”

In a second his fingers encircled your wrist, pulling you away from the floor into the shadowy corners as you protested. Sweeping aside the curtains, he pushed you into an alcove, pressing you in deeper with his body as the curtains fell again to shield you from curious eyes.

“We’ll have to do something about that mouth of yours.” He hissed cruelly, caging you between his massive arms. “You can’t go around speaking to me like this.”

His face neared yours, eyes dark and dangerous as they glared into you, his mouth opening slowly. You knew what was going to happen and you turned your face at the last second, his lips finding your cheek instead. Warm breath fanned your already heated skin, a flutter of butterflies setting your nerves astray.

“Stop! This isn’t proper.” You said, squirming as Ransom refused to back away. He chuckled in derision, forcefully turning your face to his. You hated how he still looked so beautiful, despite the sneer and arrogance.

“Wouldn’t be the first time we did it. Or did you forget about those stolen moments after the lakeside picnics? What about those walks in the park where I’d press you into a bark of tree and ravish this sinful mouth? We’re long past proper my darling, and the only reason your virtue is intact is because I am affording you the dignity to keep it until our wedding night.”

Your gaze lowered in mortification, those shameful moments coming back to you as flashes behind your eyelids. He had been far too powerful, too intense to refuse. In your weakness, you’d allowed him liberties that made guilt settle like weight on your chest every time your mother bragged about your modesty to other mammas.

“That was my mistake, Ransom. I’m supposed to marry a man of impeccable standing, someone who holds everyone’s good opinion. After Anika gets herself a man, it’ll be me, and my mother would never marry me off to a rake like you.”

His chest expanded in indignation under your hands, and he held you steady as he ground himself against you. Anger, jealousy, and sheer disbelief at your words was evident in his glare, and you shivered in fear as his lips skimmed over your jaw.

“You will marry me, mamma or no mamma. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you mine.” He promised, eyes glinting in warning. “What’s that saying? A reformed rake makes the best husband, ain’t it?”

“You’re not reformed.” You countered, captive in his hold. A part of you that you refused to acknowledge didn’t want to leave at all.

“That’s true.” Ransom said, smirking. “I am a rake, its time I play to my reputation.”

He kissed you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips without preamble. You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth, your fingers clutching his collar for dear life, knees threatening to collapse as he kissed you like a man starved. You knew he had a talented tongue by his charming words, but there was more to it than merely speaking. He discovered you, explored you like an untouched cave and brought you back to life.

Nobody could make you feel like he did. You had no patience for conceited, blustering men, but Ransom was more than that. He was a force that overpowered your life like winds did to fallen leaves. He carried you with himself, unrelenting, persistent. He was passionate and hungry, he was obsessed. After the first time he had kissed you in the park, he promised he wouldn’t kiss anyone again. He promised he’d make you his, and that if any man tried to claim what belonged to him, it would end in a duel.

In his kiss, you felt his possessiveness. You felt his raw power and lust that had led you to sin on more than one occasion. Saying no to him was difficult, mainly because you were most yourself when with him. He gave you wings unknowingly. He gave you the freedom to rebel unknowingly. To him, it was your claiming. But hadn’t you claimed him too in one kiss? Hadn’t you transformed the rake into a marriageable sort in one kiss?

“Ransom, we can’t.” You breathed against his lips, both your mouths swollen and glistening.

“Yes we can. We will.”

His hand ventured south of your neck, dipping into your neckline and brushing against the plump swell of your breast. You sputtered, not knowing if you were urging him or objecting. He pressed you hard into the wall, trailing his lips from your neck to your chest, sucking and nibbling with utmost patience and care. You whimpered at his assault, soft mewls spilling from your mouth and you rested your head back, unable to control the heat that simmered in your core.

“There is no power in the world that can stop me from making you my wife.” He said, looking right into your eyes as he sharply pulled and tore a rip into your bodice. You screeched, thumping your fists against his chest before he gathered them in one arm and held them above your head. “This is just a preview of what will happen between us when you take my ring and name.”

Pushing away the limp fabric from your breast, his mouth enveloped your nipple in one fell swoop. You cried out in pleasure, his warmth spreading into your own body and you feared you’d burn. A fire was simmering between your legs, wet and wanting, chanting his name. His teeth gently grazed your nipple, causing you to whimper, a sound he captured in his mouth.

“Look at me.” He ordered, and you opened your eyes without having realized they were closed. The blue in his had never been darker, almost black like the night sky that swallowed down everything in its path.

“Please don’t.” You begged. “I have sisters whose reputation are tied with mine. You’ll ruin us all.”

Ransom smiled, and you gulped because he looked almost tender. As his fingers trailed down your front to gather the layers of skirt above your knees, he bumped his nose in yours. “Never. I am a Thrombey-Drysdale. I’ll take you, and I’ll save your family. Everything I own is yours.”

The look in his eyes was such that you didn’t protest as he traced your thighs, approaching the apex. He didn’t look away as he reached your moist core, nor when he found your sensitive nub and ran circles around it with his fingers. You moaned, biting your lip to stifle your voice as his breathing picked up. Your scent filled the small niche you were in, his chest digging into yours, hand buried between your legs.

A strangled cry did escape when you felt him at your weeping entrance, threatening to breach the untouched walls of your virtue. You shook your head, asking him not to cross the boundary that will change everything between you.

“Come on, just a little taste.” He urged, pressing inside with one finger. He delved in slowly, his intrusion felt against the spongy walls of your sex and you trembled. You were panting you realized, hips gyrating almost subconsciously to mirror his movements.

“Ransom” You moaned, pushing forward. You had to do something, anything. You felt about ready to combust.

“I know. I know. Look at me and remember the pleasure I can give you. Remember the love I will shower on you.”

Another finger joined the first, stretching you until it burnt. You held onto his arms, breath coming in sharp intervals as he moved in and out, the obscene sounds of your essence mixing in with your laboured breathing.

“Do you feel the fire my darling?” Ransom asked, and you nodded. He rested his forehead on yours, forcing you to meet his eyes as he sped up, the heel of his hand digging into your nub. “Look into my eyes and let go. Come, now.”

Your back arched and your pressed forward into his body, quacking in pleasure as sensations that had no name wrecked your whole body. Your teeth sank into his neck to hold in your scream, whole body vibrating and undulating in ecstasy. You remained like this until you caught your breath, sweat gathering above your lips and brow. He looked ravenously at you. He looked in awe too.

Raising his hand, he showed you his fingers soaked in your wetness and slowly he brought them to his mouth and sucked. You gulped, suddenly feeling empty as Ransom closed his eyes in the relish of your taste. When he finally looked at you again, you knew you were lost. The wolf had had his taste of blood. There was no escaping.

He kissed you slow and soft, sharing your taste with you and pulling you closer into him. It didn’t seem like he would part. For all you knew, the world had burnt away leaving only this niche in the wall intact, two people who were just learning to explore each other the only ones alive.

“Do you know, or should I say?” He asked, and you sucked in a breath. Who would have thought this day would come?

“Say it.” You answered. You knew, oh yes. But you needed to hear. You needed to watch those beautiful lips curve around words that bound you to him in something far more potent than marriage.

“I love you.” He said, sincerely, truly and with no hesitation. He loved you. Lord Hugh Ransom Drysdale loved you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears and you stood on your toes to brush a kiss against his lips.

“I love you, Your Lordship.”

His arms came around you so strong that they felt like chains. You stayed in his embrace, disheveled and disoriented. You never expected your evening would have ended like this.

“Remember my love, then. And forgive me.” Ransom said. Before you could ask him what he meant, he threw apart the curtains that contained your sin and bared you to the world. The first person gasped aloud, and then ten more. You stood paralyzed, holding a hand against your chest to conceal the peeking flesh behind.

Ransom stood before you, nonchalant. Whispers flew around, taking the form of a vicious wind that swept across the ballroom until your mother was running towards you, scandalized. She took one look at you and staggered back, falling behind on the people who rushed forward to help.

“You – no. It couldn’t be.” She sobbed, holding a hand to her heart as if asking it to stay inside. You couldn’t say anything, shame written on every part of you. Ransom cleared his throat before looking at you softly, uncaring of others who gossiped when his lips pressed on your forehead.

“I plan to do right by Miss Y/N.” He announced, removing his coat and draping it around you. Pulling you out from the alcove, he put an arm around you and tugged you at his side. He glanced at you mother who was on the verge of fainting, a small tilt to his lips. “Madam, with your blessings, I would like to wed your daughter and make her an honest woman.”

You hid your face into his chest, not bothering to see your mother’s response. He had compromised you. He had ruined you. Ransom Drysdale didn’t take a no, and he fought hard for what he wanted.

“I hate you.” You whispered, heartbroken. Had he waited, you’d have said yes yourself. Ransom read the question in your gaze and stroked the curve of your cheek.

“I have done my waiting. No more of it. You’re mine now.”

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

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

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

then he turns up at your door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No human could ever look this good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After you, please,” he says.

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

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

“Not as pretty as you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's just depressing, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Purple.”

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

You think it suits him better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend. 

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Of course, you never do.)

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

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

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

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

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

You promptly roll off the sofa.

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

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

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

Ah. 

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

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

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

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

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

V looks utterly enraptured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go for it,” you say.

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

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

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

Just for an instant.

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

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

But then V laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

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

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

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

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

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

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

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

“Morning,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Thank God.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

So you do.)

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

“Morning.”

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

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

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

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

It’s… nice.

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[8thereisnowarinbasingse]

Glory or Shame | Azula x gn!reader

Characters: Azula, reader, Zuko, mentions of aang

Requested by: @captainblunder

Genre: fluff

Warnings: talking about aang’s ‘death’

Summary: After Zuko confronts his sister about Aang’s death, you voice your concerns about the situation.

Word count: 811

“You should be proud of yourself,” you commented, lifting your cup of tea.

“Please Y/n, I’m always proud of myself. I mean just look at me,” Azula responded with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s behavior. Azula had just conquered Ba Sing Se, the safest city in the earth kingdom, and on top of that, she also slew the avatar. Now, that you were back in the palace, both of you decided to celebrate the victory back in Azula’s room.

“I’m serious,” you spoke, “Not even General Iroh was able to conquer Ba Sing Se and he’s much older and more experienced than you are.”

“Don’t compare me to my uncle,” Azula scoffed, her eyes focused on her cup of tea. “He is a quitter and a loser. I am the Fire Nation’s greatest soldier.”

You shook your head and stood up, stepping towards your girlfriend. “Come on,” you smiled, stretching out your hand for her to take.

“What are you planning Y/n?” She asked but let herself be pulled up by you anyway.

“Is that important?” You answered, wrapping your arms around her waist.

Azula chuckled, resting her hands against your chest, “It isn’t but I’d still like to know.”

“I was planning on treating-“

“Azula!” Zuko threw the door open, making the princess step away from you.

“Why’d you do it?” Zuko questioned, his twisting with anger.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Azula responded, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

You sat down on your chair again, leaning back to watch Zuko and Azula. It annoyed you that the prince ruined the moment but there was nothing you could do. Sitting through the situation should end it fast enough.

“Why did you tell father that I killed the avatar?”

Azula sighed, “Can’t this wait until tomorrow? We were celebrating before you rudely interrupted.”

Zuko shortly turned to you but failed to notice your anger, “It can’t!”

Unlike her brother, Azula noticed your balled fists and clenched jaw and decided to give the prince the answers he wanted, “You seemed so worried about how father would treat you because you hadn’t captured the avatar.”

A chuckle almost ripped its way out of your throat, there was absolutely no way Azula had done it to do her brother a favor.

Azula locked eyes with you, instantly recognizing the amusement on your face before she turned back to Zuko, “I figured if I gave you the credit, you’d have nothing to be worried about.”

“But why?” Zuko asked, voicing your question out loud as well.

“Call it a generous gesture to thank you for your help. Now, would you finally leave us alone?” Azula finished with a fake smile.

Zuko huffed before he left without another word. You took the opportunity to stand up after making sure he couldn’t hear you anymore.

“What’s the real reason ‘Zula?”

The princess turned to you, “I just told Zuko, didn’t you listen to me?”

“Oh I did listen to you,” you responded, stepping closer to her. “The thing is, I don’t believe you. Out of all the people you would share the glory with in front of your father, which isn’t a lot, Zuko is not one of them.”

“What makes you think that?” Your girlfriend questioned, avoiding the piercing gaze of your eyes.

“Azula please, you wouldn’t even genuinely share credit with Zuko if you were about to be fed to the dogs.”

Azula let out an audible breath, you were the only person who’s able to see through her lies.

“Alright. Zuko was hesitant when I asked him if there was a way the avatar survived so I told father that he slew the avatar in case he was hiding something,” the princess explained.

“So you think that there’s a way the avatar is still alive?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Azula admitted, “But if there is, it’s better when Zuko has to face the shame.”

You nodded, “You know this could get us in a lot of trouble right?”

“Of course I do but why are you so concerned?”

You took Azula’s face in your hands. “I just don’t want our plan to get in danger. I want to see you succeed but I can’t guarantee that if the avatar’s still alive.”

You felt your girlfriend shiver under your touch before she answered, “If the avatar actually survived, then we’ll fight him again Y/n. I’m confident in my skills and so should you be.”

You chuckled and placed a kiss on her lips.

“I just don’t want to see the Fire Nation defeated but I’m sure you’re right,” you whispered after you pulled away.

When you wanted to step back, Azula gripped your arm, “I think you forgot a spot.” You chuckled and kissed her once more, letting your worries fade for at least a moment.

[ptergwen]

hi val can you maybe write something about the reader being dared to kiss peter/tom/arvin (you choose) since her friends knew that she has a big crush on him, but once she did he seems disinterested after which makes her sad, but what she doesn't know was after she kissed him, he practically runs to his friends freaking out that the girl he's had his eyes on this whole time just kissed him??

kiss and tell

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: like one swear and awkwardness

a/n: yeeee i went with peter! this is adorable :,)

“i can’t!” you scold betty and her annoying smirk. you’re bored at lunch, so liz suggested the three of you play truth or dare. you’d made the mistake of choosing dare. in your defense, betty is the nosiest person in all of midtown, so you thought you were dodging the bullet and guarding your deep dark secrets. how could you have known she’d make you do... this?

“that’s so, like, forward. he’s gonna freak out.” you glance over at peter’s table to see what he’s up to before you possibly scar him. he’s laughing along at a heated conversation ned and mj are having. the way his face lights up, and his eyes crinkle as a smile crosses his features, it gives you butterflies throughout your whole body.

“in a good way,” liz grins her most charming grin at you. it’s not working this time. you roll your eyes up to the ceiling. “i thought you liked him,” betty huffs, gesturing over to peter and keeping her eyes on you. “all you do is talk about how he’s so cute and smart, and his lips look so soft-“ “i never said that!” you look at her with wild eyes. liz bites her lip to hold in a laugh. “the last part, i mean,” you clarify in a murmur.

liz puts a hand on you and pats your shoulder knowingly. “you’ve probably thought it, though. i’ve seen you checking them out.” there have been quite a few times your gaze has landed on peter’s lips, watching them curve while he talks to you about some new science theory he’s excited to share. you end up zoning out and pretending you retained any of what he said. betty puckers her own lips at you.

“you wanna kiss him,” she insists in a sing song voice, resting her chin on your other shoulder. “i’m doing you a favor.” “you’re really not gonna change the dare?” you sigh, your friends leaning on you in support. liz taps your cheek. “so, you don’t wanna kiss him?” “there’s no way,” betty comments from your side. “no, i...” you start, focusing in on peter again.

he meets your eyes across the cafeteria. his smile fades slightly, then a shy one is replacing it, ned dragging him into his and mj’s debate. you turn back to liz and betty.

“i do, but do you think he wants me to?” you ask them both, and they share a you have to be kidding look. “only one way to find out.” liz gives your shoulder a nudge. betty beams at you. “i triple dog dare you now, so you have to.” considering your options, you bounce your leg up and down. you’ll either get the nicest rejection ever from peter or a kiss back. you can handle this.

“ok, i’ll do it,” you decide, betty clapping her hands and squealing. liz throws an arm around your neck. “yay! i love love.” “let’s calm down,” you giggle so she doesn’t get too carried away. you and peter haven’t even established that you like each other. “i’m calm, i’m calm. do you need to borrow chapstick?” she offers, betty simultaneously pulling a tube out of her purse. “or lip gloss?”

you’re appreciating their over involvement now.

“both,” you breathe out, letting them get you ready for your big kiss.

liz and betty send you good luck wishes in a hushed tone while you make your way to peter’s table. mj went to get a snapple, and ned went with her so they could continue whatever argument they’re in. that left peter by himself. it’s almost like this is meant to happen.

“hi,” you greet peter, making him look up at you with raised eyebrows. he notices right away that your lips are shiny, more so than usual. a color that you always seem to bring to his face takes over his cheeks. “hey. you wanna sit?” he gives you a small smile. you return it. “yeah, sure. thanks.” instead of taking the bench across from him like he assumed you would, you find your place next to him.

he doesn’t mind.

“how’s your day been?” you wonder, body turned towards him while he answers. peter scrunches his nose. “kinda busy. i got so much homework in spanish tonight, and i’ve been putting off this essay about...” you do the thing you do every time he goes off on a sort of tangent, watch his lips. lucky for you, that’s the whole point today. “i don’t know. all i have so far is the intro-“

you cut peter off with a kiss. liz and betty cheer to each other the second it happens. peter doesn’t move, only freezes up as you press your glossy lips to his and grab his shoulders. it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s not kissing back. his arms are stiff at his sides, eyes wide in shock. absolutely humiliated, you pull back, moving as far away as you can.

“fuck, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked you first,” you apologize, voice shaking. you’re already getting to your feet. peter blinks a few times, grounding himself back in the moment. “no, no. it’s okay. i-“ “that was weird, i know. you don’t have to lie or make me feel better.” he furrows his eyebrows, in a way that seems regretful even though you’re the one who messed up. “i’m trying to tell you, y/n. it’s fine. we-“

ned’s voice fills the room, making you snap your head in his direction. him and mj are coming back. you need to get out of here before you embarrass yourself even more.

“i’m gonna go. i’m sorry,” you mumble out, running back to your table, where liz and betty are instantly asking what’s wrong and if you’re alright. peter licks his lips that are now coated in your gloss and clenches his jaw. he’s pissed. not at you, at himself. it’s clear because mj brings attention to it when she sits down.

“what’s up with your face?” she narrows her eyes at him, popping the cap on her snapple. ned elbows peter in his spot next to him. you were just there less than a minute ago. “you okay, dude?” he checks. “no.” peter closes his eyes in frustration. “what’s wrong?” ned kicks mj’s foot under the table so she’ll stop making out with her drink and help him.

“i... y/n kissed me,” peter admits, sounding oddly upset about something everyone knows he’s been hoping would happen. “she what?” ned gawks. “isn’t that a good thing?” mj points out. “you love her.” “like her,” peter corrects and chews the inside of his cheek. “whatever. shouldn’t you want her to kiss you?” she takes another sip of snapple, passing this off to ned.

“yeah...” is all ned says. he awkwardly rubs peter’s back while mj tries not to snort. “that’s not the problem. i didn’t kiss her back, and she took it as me not being into it,” peter shakes his head as he recounts your weird moment. “which i was,” he tells them for the record. ned makes a funny face at him. “so why didn’t you kiss back?” “no shit she ran away,” mj mutters to him. she saw that part.

“because i wasn’t expecting it!” peter frowns at his friends’ reactions and at what he did. “you guys know how much i like y/n. i can’t believe i screwed this up so bad.” mj squints in mock confusion. “i can.” she quickly drops her sarcasm for encouragement after that. “ok, seriously. just go find her and apologize.” “maybe kiss her this time,” ned chimes in.

“if she really likes you, she’ll get it.” mj smiles genuinely, nodding back at your table. ned gives him a push forward. “you got this, dude. come tell us all about it after.” a rush of confidence enters peter from their advice. he’ll fix this. “thanks, guys. here i go.” he shoots up from the table, ned and mj getting back into their debate once he’s out of sight.

betty is hugging you way too tightly when peter gets over there. she goes on about how much peter sucks, overcompensating because she’s the reason you kissed him. you only hum in response. you don’t have the heart to tell her you blame yourself. only liz notices peter come over, so she talks on your behalf. “oh, hey,” she says drily. “hey. can i talk to y/n?” peter gets out, twiddling with his thumbs nervously.

she has to decide if she’d rather go into protective friend mode or let him. from your unenthusiastic responses to betty’s hate rant, she figures you’d like to hear him out.

“come on, betty,” liz takes her arm suddenly, betty trying to pull it back. “what? why?” “i’m gonna buy you ice cream. let’s go.” that’s her cover. peter shoots her a look that says thank you, liz pressing her lips into a line and dragging betty along. betty sees peter standing in front of your table and glares at him, liz walking faster. you don’t get the chance to ask them where they’re going because they leave so fast.

the bench dips down on one side of you, making someone’s prescense known. you’re surprised to find it’s peter. you talk first.

“if you’re gonna apologize, don’t. it was my fault-“ “you never let me finish earlier,” peter interrupts, the hint of a smile on his face. his clammy hand links with one of yours. “what were you gonna say?” you ask quietly, peter threading your fingers together. your heart is racing at the simple touch. “that i like you,” he replies at the same low volume. “and, that i wanted to try again.”

he’s sitting a lot closer to you than you realized. you welcome it, your hands in between you two on the bench. “i like you too... try what again?” you question, although you hope and pray it’s what you think. “kissing,” peter says what you were hoping and praying for. “wasn’t ready the first time.” you’re about to go into cardiac arrest as he rests his forehead on yours, curls brushing your face. a few broken up breaths escape him.

“can i?” he nearly whispers, warm hand still gripping at yours. “yeah,” you agree before your eyes flutter shut. he wastes no time, parting his lips and brushing them against yours gently, you reciprocating. he kisses as sweetly as he is, his free hand on your cheek and fingers careessing your skin. your other hand ends up on the back of his neck. you grin against him, lips detaching momentarily so you can engage him in another kiss.

peter doesn’t hesitate to kiss back this time, nose nudging yours as he moves in more. you tug on some hair at the nape of his neck and laugh into the kiss, reminding him you’re in school. he pulls back with a chuckle, but keeps his forehead on yours and your hands in each other.

“sorry. got too excited,” he laughs out, you leaning into his open palm. “i told you don’t apologize.”

liz and betty joined ned and mj at some point. the four of them are whistling at you and yelling out suggestive jokes. they’re too much. but, to be fair, you owe this all to them.

[griffintail]

The Sister’s Return

Summary: (Y/N) has reunited with her family with Dream’s looming threat...

Pairings: SBI x Sister! Reader

Warnings: Minor Fight scene, mentions of blood, mentions of past manipulation and present manipulation

A/N: This is a part two to The Sister’s Happiness

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        (Y/N) hesitated outside the tundra home as Techno went up to the house first.

        “You promise he’s not mad?” (Y/N) whispered to Tommy.

        “He…was mad for a while,” Tommy admitted. “We all were. It took us all a little while after…what he did to me to forgive you.”

        A crow swooped into the window as Techno looked at the younger pair as Ghostbur hummed floating into the house.

        “Phil! We found little note!” Ghostbur announced, making (Y/N) wince hearing her brother’s old nickname for her.

        “Play the song again please Wilbur?” The twelve-year-old girl begged as Wilbur looked down at his guitar.

        “Mmh, only if you sing it with me. My throat’s getting tired.”

        It was a lie. He just liked singing with his less annoying youngest sibling.

        “Ok.”

        “Here we go little note.” He smiled, giving a small strum to his guitar.

        “Even if he was mad, you can’t hide now.” Tommy huffed, following after.

        (Y/N) looked down at Fran, who had followed them all the way, before walking up to the house with shaky legs. Before she even got to the door, Phil came out, a soft smile on his face.

        “You’re ok.” Phil laughed quietly before coming over and taking her shoulders gently as she froze. “I’m so sorry angel. I-I should have been there and I’m sorry.”

        “Daddy’s girl.” Tommy mocked from the top of the stairs.

  ��     He really hadn’t changed after everything.

        “It’s ok Phil, I should be saying sorry, I—”

        “No, it’s alright. Let’s get you inside.” Phil told her, looking around the area before putting a hand on her shoulder.

        He led her in now, Fran trotting in behind them. Once the door closed, (Y/N) had a feeling she hadn’t felt since she had been with…Dream. She…felt at home…

        Ghostbur floated as he hummed, taking some potions off a brewing stand as Techno rested his axe on the wall next to the door as he went to stop Tommy, who was already digging through his chests. Phil went to help with potion brewing as (Y/N) stood there.

        She felt like a stranger though.

        “Just because I’m letting you back in my house, does not mean you can dig through my things.” Techno scolded Tommy as he pulled him away.

        “Come on blade. If I’m going to help, I need some gear.”

        “You have your own gear and Dream’s gear!”

        “Technically Tubbo has half his gear!” Tommy pointed at him.

        “Come on Techno, don’t you want to help your favorite siblings?” (Y/N) grinned motioning to a sixteen-year-old Tommy, who put an arm around her.

        “Yeah, big man! Just a few things for the poor?” Tommy motioned to a fifteen-year-old (Y/N).

        Techno rolled his eyes at his siblings' shared mischievous grins. He knew he should have hung out with (Y/N) more, Tommy had been too much of an influence on her.

        “You think there will be a fight?” (Y/N) asked, everyone, looking at her.

        “Yes.” Phil nodded. “I got a message that…he wasn’t very happy you were moving on without him around.”

        “You can say his name. It doesn’t affect me as much anymore.” (Y/N) told him quietly.

        “Good because Dream is a bastard and we’re going to beat him again.” Tommy cheered. “The Sleepy Bois and their little sister are back!”

        (Y/N) smiled lightly and Tommy froze slightly, surprised by the smile. “Yeah, we are back.”

        Tommy stood there before grinning as he came over, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

        “Yeah! Look out bitches!”

        “Fucking pricks.” (Y/N) followed suit.

        “We’ll show them who’s the best!”

        “And have whatever we want!”

        (Y/N) actually gave a laugh after they recited the bit they always use to do. Tommy was grinning widely. He had missed his sister.

        “Fuck yeah!” He punched the air.

        “Alright you little bastards, get your gear somewhere you can get to it quickly,” Techno told them.

        “I got an ender chest in my old room, come on.” Tommy let go of (Y/N) before sliding down the ladder.

        She followed after him, Fran making home next to the fireplace.

        “We’re not going to actually make (Y/N) fight with us, are we?” Phil asked, not wanting his youngest to be around the masked man again.

        “No. Ghostbur,” Techno said, the ghost zoning back into the conversation.

        “Yes, Technoblade?” Ghostbur smiled.

        “Why don’t you tell (Y/N) what you remember? She hasn’t seen you in a while.”

        “Oh yes! That’s a very good idea Technoblade!” He nodded before following after the younger pair.

        “You got crows scouting?” Techno asked.

        “I’m not idiot Techno.” Phil gave a joking scoff. “I’ve been doing this longer than you.”

        “Good. Then let’s get ready.”

        (Y/N) raised an eyebrow around the odd room as Tommy went to the ender chest, pulling out a few pieces of gear.

        “So, this is where you went when you went missing.” (Y/N) muttered.

        Tommy paused, gripping the edge of the chest lightly. “Please don’t talk about that.”

        “Oh shit.” She put her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry Tommy. I—Shit.”

        “It’s fine, you didn’t do anything during that time it was all Dream,” Tommy said, putting his armor and weapons on his bed. “We just need to be able to read each other again too I suppose.”

        “Well…after everything you still seem like you so I don’t think that will be too hard.” (Y/N) tried to lighten the tone.

        “I’ve changed a lot! I’m a bigger man.” Tommy crossed his arms at his sister.

        “Sure.” She teased.

        “Alright, listen here you prick.” Tommy started until Ghostbur floated down.

        “(Y/N)! We haven’t talked in so long, we should talk.” Ghostbur said to her excitedly.

        “I uh. Sure. If you want to Ghostbur, I just…” She looked at Tommy’s gear. “We got a thing to possibly do.”

        “Well, if it’s only possible we have some time.” Ghostbur grinned as he took her hand, making her shiver at the cold contact.

        “Oi. Ghostbur, let her get her things first.” Tommy told off the ghost.

        “Oh, ok. Get your things.”

        (Y/N) went into the ender chest, taking out her armor, bow, and sword.

        “Is that your old bow?” Tommy looked at it surprised.

        “Yeah…I put a mending enchant on it before we got your discs back.” (Y/N) grinned. “So, it’s still in action.”

        “…I think it will be perfect for fighting Dream with again.”

        She paused before nodding; the grin still wide on her face. “I think so too. We’ll fuck up his shit again.”

        Tommy nodded, deep in thought for a minute.

        “Hey, Ghostbur, wait up there for her, she’ll be there in a minute,” Tommy told the ghost.

        “Ok!”

        He floated up the ladder again and Tommy shifted awkwardly for a moment.

        “Did you…did you like doing all that stuff with him?”

        (Y/N) gripped onto the bow, taking a shaky breath.

        “I thought I did. I told myself I did…but every time I saw your face…I hated it. But he told me…he told me it was for the better and I believed him.”

        “We’re what’s best for you because you’re our family, and don’t forget it, alright prick?” Tommy crossed his arms, looking away.

        “Thanks, Tommy.” She smiled lightly. “I won’t.”

        She went to leave but he stopped her again.

        “Hey, if you…want to talk about it too, I get it,” Tommy said quietly.

        “I’ll keep that in mind.” She nodded.

        Then she finally went up the ladder, Tommy passing through the room quickly to go to the main room, and Ghostbur held out a piece of blue to her the second she got up.

        “Oh, uh, thank you.” She took it.

        “There’s so much to talk about! Techno said we should talk about what I remember. I remember a few things about you!” He grinned, clapping his hands together. “You use to sing music for me and I wouldn’t make fun of you for being a child because you could be really mature.”

        “Oh…you don’t remember a lot of things?” She asked, sitting.

        “No, but that’s ok. I remember a lot of happy things!”

        “So…you don’t remember Dream and me?”

        “Mmh, I remember thinking about how nice it was to see you next to Dream when we were making L’Manberg, even though I thought about how unhappy you looked.”

        (Y/N) stared at the wall as she stood to the back of the group. Wilbur was at the top, looking down at her in shock and she looked away.

        “I would like to know though Dream, how you managed to get my little sister on your side.”

        “She saw past your stupidity.” Dream answered simply.

        He’ll just use you for power.

        Dream’s voice echoed in her head, making her jaw clench.

        “Alivebur didn’t think you and Dream were very good friends. He often scolded Tommy if he brought it up.” Ghostbur hummed, before whispering to her. “Dream is a bit of a bad guy.”

        “Yeah…yeah, he is Ghostbur. That’s why me and him aren’t friends.”

        “Oh, that’s a shame, but now you can hang out with us again!”

        (Y/N) thought about the times she had caught Wilbur’s glare across a battlefield or simply across the open area. She had thought he hated him but had he suspected something was wrong?

        …

        “She’s a bitch now! Fuck her!” Tommy shouted at Wilbur.

        “Don’t say that about her Tommy.” Wilbur snapped. “She…looks so unhappy. Dream holds too much power, we can’t get to her easy, we need to figure something out to get to her.”

        …

        “What the hell did you guys let happen to (Y/N)?” Techno motioned to above the ravine where Pogtopia was stationed.

        They had just run and his own little sister had just tried to hunt them down with the rest of the mob of Manberg citizens. Her downfall though was Techno had taught her himself. Yet, there was just such a cold look in her eyes…

        “She did it to herself.” Tommy scoffed.

        “I don’t know, I haven’t been able to talk to her in a few years. I can’t get her alone no matter what I tried, that’s not the problem right now.” Wilbur paced.

        Techno thought it was a huge fucking problem though and decided he needed to figure out what was going on, on his own.

        …

        Techno heard the crow before it flew through the window. It gave a flap of its wings to Phil and Phil nodded, looking outside.

        “He’s close by.”

        The pair had managed to get (Y/N) alone and they had seen through the façade when they talked to her and tried to subtly get it out of her. They thought they could get another chance when she left but then Butcher Gang came and Dream visited Techno’s home.

        Sure, they had been mad about her betraying their trust by telling people where Techno’s home was but when Tommy came to them, they weren’t mad for long. They were the first to understand what must have happened to her as well.

        Phil put on his last bit of armor as Tommy came up to them, paling slightly.

        “He’s here already?”

        “He’s close.” Techno nodded. “Get ready, we’re not taking (Y/N).”

        Tommy hesitated but nodded. He didn’t want Dream near his sister again. As the young boy put all his gear on, Techno picked up his axe with his crossbow on his back and Phil grabbed his own bow. He managed his gear on when Techno saw Dream walking through the snow.

        “Let’s go.” Techno nodded.

        The three went out, weapons at the ready and Dream grinned behind his mask.

        “Sorry Dream. I don’t do charity cases for the homeless, gonna need you to leave.” Techno told him, shouldering his axe.

        “Are we really going to go through this again Techno? Are you going to talk to your voices again too?” Dream laughed. “I know you have what I want. So, either, send her out now, or I’ll kill all of you.”

        “You can try, you green bastard, but I finished you once! I’ll do it again!” Tommy shouted.

        “But here I am Tommy! You can’t stop me. I got out of prison and now here I am. Back again!” Dream took a step forward and Phil aimed his bow. “You won’t, no, you can’t kill me, Tommy. Come on, we were friends, weren’t we?”

        Techno put the axe in front of his brother as Phil shot the arrow in front of Dream when Tommy’s breathing picked up slightly.

        “You’re not getting anyone today,” Phil told him. “So, we’re going to give you one chance to say you failed and leave.”

        Dream merely smirked behind his mask before going straight for Techno. With ease, Techno blocked the sword with his arm, the sword sparking on his armor before Techno swung his axe right for Dream’s side and the masked man jumped back.

        “A fight it is then.” Techno grinned, the voices going into a chant.

        Tommy pulled his sword and Phil switched for his sword as well. The fight was on.

        …

        “What else do you remember?” (Y/N) asked the ghost. “About…me.”

        “You were an awful lot like Tommy but you could calm down and be little note with me.” Ghostbur smiled. “It was always nice seeing you and Tommy play together though. And when you two become friends with Tubbo, it was meant to be really. It always made Alivebur smile and it makes me smile too!”

        “It seems a lot of things make you smile though Ghostbur.” She laughed quietly.

        “But there’s so many wonderful things we get to do and see!”

        (Y/N) smiled lightly. Ghostbur seemed to be all the good things about Wilbur…but she missed the bad stuff of her brother…

        Both the ghost and she jumped though when they heard the sound of fireworks.

        “That doesn’t sound good,” Ghostbur muttered, taking out a piece of blue.

        (Y/N) leapt up, as she now could hear the cawing of the crows and metal on metal. Dream was here!

        “Shit, shit, shit.” She panicked, throwing her armor on.

        “(Y/N),” Ghostbur mumbled.

        She looked at the ghost of her brother as she put her helmet on. A panic was in her eyes but there was the spark of a fire that brought good memories to Ghostbur. Memories of when she’d practice sword fighting and archery with Technoblade or when she’d scream at Tommy’s bullies or when she was taking lessons with Alivebur to learn guitar. He smiled lightly as he saw the real (Y/N) that had been missing.

        “I love you.”

        “…I love you too Ghostbur.” She gave a light smile before grabbing her one arrow, sword strapped to her side.

        She got outside to see Techno loading his crossbow with another firework as Tommy was dodging a sword swing from Dream who had a cracked mask with slightly singed clothing while Phil was dashing to go in for a low blow. Everyone had minor wounds as armors had dents and scratches. (Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat as she gripped onto her bow before raising it.

        “I never throw away my shot.” She muttered before letting the arrow fly.

        It caught Dream’s mask and it flew off his mask. (Y/N)’s arrow reappeared on the bow as she pulled back, her infinity enchantment doing its work to bring her arrow back as though it was never gone even though it pinned Dream’s mask to the ground.

        “STOP!” She commanded.

        “(Y/N)!” Dream grinned ducking from Tommy’s sword swing before knocking the boy down, winding him as he parried Phil’s attack, pushing the older man back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been my friend?”

        “Drop your sword!” She demanded.

        “(Y/N), come on. It’s me, Dream.” He smiled.

        She clenched her jaw as Techno looked between the pair as the other two of her family stayed where they were. Then she changed the direction of her bow and it snagged his pant leg, pinning the fabric to the ground as another arrow appeared in her bow.

        “Leave my family alone.” She told him.

        “Your family?” Dream laughed. “They haven’t tried to talk to you in almost three years! Now, they thought they had power over the two of us because I was locked away; they tried to use you! I broke out to save you.”

        His voice was creeping back into the back of her mind as she gripped onto her bow.

        “YOU BASTARD!” Tommy’s voice broke through the voice of Dream.

        Dream hissed as Tommy snagged a weak point in his armor, drawing blood.

        “How dare you say I’d use my sister!” He shouted, pushing the man back, jumping back as Techno quickly aimed his crossbow.

        Dream dove out of the way as the firework went off where he had been.

        “I won’t let you use my sister like a puppet.” Techno put his crossbow away to replace it with his axe.

        An arrow landed in front of Dream’s face and (Y/N) pointed her bow to the ground.

        “I never miss, so take the friendly warning. Leave and never speak to me again. Leave this land.”

        “You…you can’t…” Dream gave a laugh.

        “She can do whatever she wants mate,” Phil said, all three of them standing in front of (Y/N). “And you’ll have to go through us to even think about her. I suggest you leave.”

        “You’ll regret this.” Dream spat at them before getting up and ender pearling away.

        A weight was gone as (Y/N) teared up when the three looked over at her.

        “Oh dear, you need some blue.” Ghostbur came out now and gave the girl a piece of blue.

        “Thank you.” She sniffled wiping away her tears.

        Tommy came over putting an arm around one side of her shoulders as Techno went on the other side as Phil put a hand on her head.

        “We won!” Tommy cheered.

        She had missed her family…

[timelesslords]

Hieee could you maybe write a fic where Annabeth changes her hair and Percy is like “omg who r u??”

Btw LOOOOVEEE all your stories, you’re one of my fave percabeth writers

I know this probably wasn't exactly what you were asking for, but it kind of got away from me haha 😅 I hope you like it anyway!

read on AO3

Annabeth had been expecting a reaction when the door to the Poseidon cabin opened, but she hadn’t expected complete and utter silence. Then again, Percy’s face pretty much said it all— his jaw had practically dropped when he caught sight of her.

“It’s awful,” Annabeth sighed, “Just go ahead and say it.”

“No,” Percy said, hurriedly, finally finding the sense to close his mouth, which had been gaping open like a fish, “No it’s not, it’s just— wow.”

“You don’t have to lie, I know how it looks,” Annabeth said. Her arms had already been folded over her chest, but she found them tightening, slightly. She’d been dreading this moment more than the actual haircut.

Which was saying something, because she’d been putting off the actual haircut for a while.

The Giant War had ended nearly two weeks ago, and her hair had been damaged beyond belief for longer. She hadn’t taken very good care of it while Percy was missing— she’d been in survival mode the entire time, and her hair was the last thing she was worried about. Then, of course, there was the quest and… well.

Trekking through the deepest pits of the underworld was really bad for your split ends, apparently.

Beyond the fire river and the poison air, something about being down there had just sucked the life out of her curls. The ends were damaged beyond repair. Some of them were even a little singed, and she couldn’t even remember how that had happened but she also wasn’t trying very hard to.

Annabeth had just been tying it back everyday, putting it in a bun or a scraggly ponytail and hoping nobody would notice. Unfortunately for her, her best friend was a daughter of Aphrodite. And while Piper wasn’t normally very into that type of thing, something about the absolutely atrocious state of Annabeth’s hair had triggered something baked deep into her DNA that required her to fix it.

It had taken a lot of convincing for Annabeth to agree to a haircut, but Piper had insisted it needed to be done. The fact that Piper used to cut her own hair did kind of help— choppy as it was, the unkempt look actually required more skill than one would expect. So that was how Annabeth had found herself in the Aphrodite cabin an hour previously, watching inch after inch of damaged hair fall away in a gaudy supermodel mirror as she tried her best not to cry.

Piper had done a good job, all things considered. She didn’t have a lot to work with, and Annabeth had told her to just do whatever she needed to. Still, it was short— shorter than Annabeth could ever remember having it, falling just below her chin.

Even Piper had only had a grim look of satisfaction when it was finished. It was functional— and not damaged, for the most part— and that would have to do.

But breaking the news to Percy was somehow the worst part of it all for Annabeth. She knew he liked her hair, like running his fingers through it and pushing it behind her ear and brushing it out of her eyes. Cutting it off felt like a betrayal somehow, like she was giving up, accepting defeat, like she’d let Tartarus ruin this one simple thing they’d had together after it had already taken so much else.

But the way Percy was looking at her now was… unexpected. She’d anticipated the surprise, but now that that had faded away, she wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking. She’d thought he would do a bad job of pretending to like it— acting his heart out, of course, swearing he’d always liked it this way just to try and make her feel better— but instead he was just… looking.

She couldn’t quite read his expression, and something about it made her nervous. But she couldn’t find it in herself to speak, even if she desperately wanted him to.

“It looks really really good,” Percy said finally, reaching out and running his fingers through the short ends. He had a look of careful consideration on his face, like he was examining her curls the same way he would a complicated math problem, or a puzzle. “It’s different, but it's not bad.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re my boyfriend and you have to?” Annabeth asked. He smiled, twirling his finger around a lock of hair. He could actually do that again, because the one thing the lack of length had given her in return was a slight return of her natural texture. Piper had promised it would come back stronger with time, but Annabeth wasn’t holding her breath.

“No, I’m not,” he said, and it sounded sincere, at least, “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love your hair long, but it was a little… you know.”

“Burnt?” Annabeth supplied. Percy blushed a little, but he didn’t look away.

“Yeah,” he said, sheepish now, even as he forged on, “It looks a lot healthier like this. It makes you look healthier.”

“Are you saying I looked sickly?” Annabeth teased, though there wasn’t much bite behind it. She knew she looked sickly. Percy still looked a little sickly, and he’d bounced back physically much more quickly than she had.

“You know what I mean,” Percy said, unwilling to fall into her trap. Annabeth sighed, knowing he was right.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin up just slightly, so she was looking him in the eye, “I’m proud of you. I know that wasn’t easy.”

“You’re proud of me for getting a haircut?” Annabeth asked, looking up at him reluctantly. He was smiling, because of course he was.

“Yes. Yes I am,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “And hey, it’s just hair, right? It’ll grow back eventually.”

“I guess,” Annabeth sighed, leaning into his touch, “But I have to look like this in the meantime.”

“You mean you have to look absolutely adorable in the meantime?” Percy said, grinning again.

Now this was what she’d been initially expecting, the unwillingness to admit that it was anything other than cute and perfect, but somehow it felt alright coming after the sincerity. He was right. It was going to grow back. And it wasn’t really so bad right now. She believed that he actually liked it, at least, and that made her feel a little better. A lot better, actually.

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, letting herself smile a little as she looked up at him, “I guess so.”