#now that this is done i might start catching up on the main story tomorrow if i have time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

callmemana · 2 years ago

Text

Arms Wide Open, Catch Me If I Fall:

Chapter 4: Birdie’s Eye View

Word Count: 5k+

🚨Warnings: inaccurate Naval descriptions, angst and floof.

A/N: dividers by @sligheach-sidhe , cover by me ( @callmemana ). Thank you @bayisdying for proofreading!

A/N: There will be a change, each chapter will be at least 3k word count. Also, this will be my main focus on writing.

After the big blow up with Bo, Bird walked to the Garcia’s with Ozzy following close behind.

Tears stained her cheeks as she made her way to her bedroom and cuddled with her dog.

She would go in tomorrow and talk with Cyclone about redacting the offer to join the team, if it wasn’t too late.

If Robert didn’t want her here, then she’s not gonna stick around to take anymore of his awful behavior.

He’s acting like he did the last week he was in Lemoore right before he broke her heart.

Bird was a forgiving person, but she didn’t know if she could forgive him for this.

She got up and started to pack everything but the essentials back up into the boxes, she’d ask for tape and help loading her truck tomorrow.

Ozzy kept trying to nip at her legs, telling her to stop.

But Bird’s mind was already set, as soon as she could she’d talk to the Air Boss and ask to be stationed back in Lemoore.

She was just finishing up her last box when Baylie and Mickey came home.

“Why are you packed? What happened between you and Bob?”questioned Lucky.

“He was an asshole and pretty much told me he didn’t want me here. I’m going to talk to Cyclone tomorrow about being transferred back to Flordia. I’m not staying somewhere where the only person I really know doesn’t want me to be.”

“Maybe he was just surprised to see you is all,” offered Mickey.

Bird laughed humorlessly, “Trust me Mickey, what he said wasn’t because of that. I mean, seriously! How stupid am I to come here thinking that he’d be happy to see me? He was right, I ruin everything.”

Tears prickled at her eyes as she fixes her glasses.

“Birdie, what do you mean?” insisted Lucky, teeth slightly grinding together.

“Hey, you haven’t ruined anything.” reassured Mickey.

“He said that the whole week before he left, said I ruined his life and everything I touch. I can’t do that to you guys too.”

“Bird, you haven’t ruined anything for us, if anything you’ve made our lives better.”

“How? I’ve done nothing but cause trouble since I got here!” she cried, taking her glasses off to clean them of tears.

Baylie pulls her into a hug and Mickey joins soon afterwards.

“Because you have made our grey outlook on Bob turn to color. We only knew him as the shy man he is, and now, we might be able to see an outgoing, sarcastic, and whatever else he’s hidden from us, man.”

“You just don’t know him well enough yet. He was shy when we first met at bootcamp.”

“Oh, we need to know all of the stories about the young Robert Floyd.” declared Lucky.

Ozzy ran over and decided to also join the group hug, giving everyone sloppy puppy-kisses all over their faces.

“Oz, Ozzy, ok, ok, thank you bubs!” laughed Birdie as she lightly pushed him away, fixing her glasses on her nose.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes, standing up in the process to head to her room.

“I best be gettin’ to bed, I gotta be up early to see Cyclone anyhow. Thank you both for everything.”

The couple gave smiles and bids her goodnight.

The next morning Bird does her morning routine, walks Ozzy, and drives to base earlier than necessary.

She’s trying to navigate her way to the Air Boss’s office when she accidentally bumps into someone.

“Oh I’m so sorry! Here lemme help you,” blurted Bird as she immediately gets to the ground and starts to pick up the scattered papers and folders.

The woman was olived skinned and dark brown curly haired.

“It’s not a problem, I can pick them up myself, I wasn’t watching where I was going anyway.” the woman laughed, holding her hand out towards Amanda.

“I’m Alana Metcalf, most people here call me Cinco or Cin. Are you new? I saw that you were looking a little lost.”

She took the woman’s outstretched hand and shook.

“I’m Amanda Hallett, callsign Birdie, but I also go by Bird. I’m not gonna lie, I am incredibly lost.” Bird laughed, cheeks burning a bright pink.

“Well maybe I can help, who are you looking for?”

“The Air Boss, Beau Simpson. I need to talk with him about transferring back to my old base.”

“Oh, did something happen? Not enjoying San Diego?” she asked.

“You could say that. I just don’t think it’s a good fit for me.”

“Ah, I see. An ex is here huh?”

Birdie’s eyes widen and jaw slacked, “How did you know that?”

“I’m kinda friends with Bob and the dagger squad. Actually, my boyfriend is on the team too.”

“Oh…” said Bird before she put on a fake smile, “what’s his name?”

Cinco could see through the smile, but decided to table that for later when she could speak to Bob.

“Jake Seresin, but his callsign is Hangman.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“He is sometimes,” nodded Cin, “It’s because he always hangs his wingmen out to dry.”

“And he’s on a team? He sounds like he’s an ass. No offense!”

Cin laughs, “None taken, I know he can be one. He’s shown it many of times.”

The two women stopped infront of a wooden door with a name plate that read, ‘Simpson.’

“Anyway, here’s Cyclone’s office. I hope that you reconsider going back, I can tell that you will be a big part of our lives already.”

“And how can you tell, you just met me Cin.” Bird questioned jokingly.

“Because that man’s eyes still sparkle when you come up in conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bob like this and I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

“So, you know?” she asked, eyes casted down.

“No, but I don’t think I need to know more than that he loves you.”

“He might’ve before, but he doesn’t now. Thanks for being my guide, I appreciate it.”

Bird gave the woman a little wave as she knocked on the thick door, waiting for the ‘Come in.’

Once the command was given, she entered and saluted the Air Boss.

“You are relieved, Leutenant,” he declared, looking up briefly to see who was there.

“Hello Vice Admiral Simpson, I was wondering if it was too late to ask if the contract could be void and I could be stationed back in Lemoore?”

“Not liking the company Hallett? I believe at one point in your first time here, you were very close to Leutenant Floyd.”

“Yes sir, we were, but recently ended our relationship.”

“How sad. Unfortunately, Hallett, it’s already been cleared and recorded. You’re stuck here until farther notice.”

“But Sir-”

“I didn’t ask for excuses, Leutenant. Just be glad it’s only for six months. Now if your done,” He shifted his eyes to the door.

That was not the news Bird thought she would be getting, Cyclone never liked her anyway.

So why does he have to be so determined to keep her here?

Unless he thinks this will be torture for her being near Robert, which it most likely will be.

She exited the room, leaving his door open just to piss him off more.

Bird went down the hallway a little and braced her back on the wall, groaning loud.

“Well who do we have here?” a woman with a British accent asked.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you ma’am, I’m Leutenant Hallett.”

“No harm done here, I was just having breakfast at my desk with my friend. I’m Rachael Kazansky.”

Bird looked at her phone screen, checking the time. The meeting with Cyclone went on longer than she initially thought.

“I am so sorry but, I have to get to the hanger. It was nice meeting you though!”

Dragon smiled as the blonde woman scurried off.

She arrived late, the high ranks already in the room and stood off to the side.

“Nice of you to finally join us Leutenant Hallett,” announced Cyclone.

“I’m so sorry, Cyclone! Someone told me to go to Hell, I couldn’t find it at first, but guess what? I finally found it! And I just knew I’d see you here too!”

“Everyone, this is Leutentant Amanda ‘Birdie’ Hallett, graduated second at Top Gun in her class.” stated Maverick, a wide smirk on his features.

Robert muttered a displeased, “Birdie.”

Laughter poorly covered up could be heard around the hanger, mostly by the students. When Bird looked over at Warlock, he winked at her with an amused smirk on his face too.

“Back on the agenda, Maverick.”

“We will be doing an exercise to start training for an upcoming mission. The hard deck is at ten thousand feet and will not be broken this time. We’ll take Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, and Birdie first. Get suited up.”

With that, we all filed out of the door and headed to the locker room.

“You must have a big pair of balls on you if you can sass Cyclone without hesitation.” said a tall, blond haired man with sea green eyes.

“Cyclone’s had it out for me since my first time at Top Gun. Bob and I got yelled at all the time by him.” Birdie said as she rolled her eyes.

“Wrong, you and Thena got yelled at and Smiley and me tried to get you out of it.” smiled Bob.

“Yeah right, like I don’t remember the reason you got your callsign. You are just as much of a troublemaker Bo.”

She didn’t see the smirks and looks exchanged by the others.

“Since y’all know my name, I think it’s only fair I know your’s.” stated Bird.

A dark skinned man with a mustache spoke first, “I’m Reuben Fitch, Payback and Fanboy’s pilot.”

The next was another dark skinned man, a little lighter in shade, “Javy Machado, Coyote.”

“I’m pretty well known everywhere I go. Jake Seresin, callsign; Hangman.”

“Wow, maybe you should take the dick outta your personality. Your ego isn’t as big as you think.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you think-”

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll sack you so hard that your grandkids will feel your pain.”

“Damn, she doesn't play.” said a man with a 70’s porn-stache.

“Damn straight, and you are?”

“Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster.” he held out his hand, which she gladly took.

“It’s nice to meet you Rooster.”

They all came to the doors that separated the locker rooms.

The women went into the one on the left, the guys on the right.

Bird was halfway out of her civilian clothes when a small, shy woman came up to her.

“Hi, I’m Raven Mouse Fischer. I haven’t been on the team very long, but if you need any help with anything, I’d be more than glad to help!” chirped Mouse with a wide smile.

“Thank you Mouse, I might have to take you up on that offer,”

“I’m Bob’s pilot, Natasha Phoenix Trace. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Natasha. Thank you for keeping him safe when I couldn’t, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Phoenix was a little surprised when Bird brought her into a tight hug.

After the little meet and greet in the locker room, everyone was outside in the hanger getting ready to get in the jets.

Bird had her sky blue helmet on with the bird silhouette on the front with her callsign under and her squadron on the sides.

She wanted to have someone pat the top to ‘see if it works’ but didn’t want to ask anyone yet.

Bird saw Bo and looked away, there was no way she’d ask the man who had made a new crack in her heart not too long ago to do the preflight ritual with her.

“What’s wrong Bird?” asked Rooster as he stood by her plane.

“Nothin’, just missing old traditions we used to do before flying.”

“What did you do before?” he smiled, looking down at her.

“Used to smack the top of our helmets so we could ‘see if it was good’ and now I don’t have anyone to do that with.”

Without second thought, Rooster slapped his hand against the top of her helmet and whispered, “Good luck Bird. You don’t have to be scared to ask us to continue the traditions you did back in Lemoore, if they make you feel comfortable or a superstition you have we will help make you calm.”

Bird’s cheeks burned slightly, “Thank you Roos, I appreciate that.”

Bradley lightly pounds his fist on the top of her helmet again, “Anytime Bird. We’re all family now.”

She nods, looking away from him briefly before the other two men join them.

“Ready to fly Bird and Chicken?” asked Hangman, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, Bagman, let’s get in the sky.”

It took a while but soon all were in the air with the oxygen masks on and communication was silent.

Bird was flanked by the men, all looking around for Maverick and seeing nothing.

“So what’s your story Birdie?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna, Bird.”

“It’s fine. Grew up in the midwest, went to bootcamp and then after I graduated I went to Top Gun.”

“What about when you met Baby On Board?”

Rooster’s voice cracked through the radios, “Leave her alone, Bagman.

“Woah man, we’re just trying to get to know our fellow aviator Rooster.”

Bird rolled her eyes at the men, typical.

“I’ll leave that to Robert when the time comes and HE wants to tell you.”

“Ooooh, she’s super mad if she’s using your name and not your callsign huh Baby On Board?”

“Why do you always have to be a dickhead, Bagman?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘always,’ I did save your life Chicken.”

“He did,” echoed Coyote.

Rooster was quiet after that and started to go a little farther ahead of them.

They flew for a little longer in silence before Coyote voiced everyone’s concern, “Where’s Mav?”

All four of us looked around, not seeing anything. “Oh fuck, he’s under our noses.”

After that was said, Maverick came up from out of nowhere. “Good Afternoon Aviators.”

Bird was the first to move out of the way, Rooster following her and Hangman and Coyote breaking off to the left.

The fight was on.

It took twenty six minutes for Maverick to shoot all of us down.

If we were supposed to be the best of the best, how come it took so little time for him to beat us in a dog fight?

Bird got out of her jet, took off her helmet and then gripped it in her fist angrily. She knew she could be better than she performed today, otherwise she wouldn’t be back at Top Gun.

“Don’t let this bring you down, we all got our asses handed to us and I bet you everyone will today too.” Rooster shook her shoulders lightly and a smile on his face.

Hangman and Coyote came over to her plane again and praised her flying as they all made their way to the rec room where everyone else is.

Once inside the room and out of the blazing sun, she saw that Bob was still sitting right infront of the radio with eyebrows furrowed and bitting him lip.

What was he so worried about, he had no right to be for me. He lost it the day he broke my heart.

It was later in the day when everyone had failed and walking back to the locker rooms that everyone was talking and laughing together again.

“So Bird, would you like to go to the Hard Deck later?” asked Mickey, a smile on his face.

“No thank you, Mickey. I should unpack, I’m going to be here for a while.”

“Oh that’s great to hear, how long?” chirped Mouse.

“I’m here for six months, then wherever they send me afterwards.”

Lucky glares at Bob, angry at that he almost made her go away.

“We can help if you need?”

Bird smiled, “Thanks for the offer, but it won’t take too long.”

“Well if you end up needing help, don’t be afraid to call any of us.”

“She wouldn’t need you Bagman, Birdie has Mickey and me to help. Also stay away from my house or I’ll kick your ass.”

Jake put his arms up in mock surrender, eyes wide and a smirk on his lips.

The three of them went back inside the Hard Deck and grabbed the others and went out back to talk on the deck.

Once all of the aviators had sat down, Bob took a deep breath.

“I think I might owe y’all an explanation on why I’ve been acting so short tempered lately.”

“I’d say.”

“Shut up, let him speak!”

“Yeah, I wanna hear why.”

“Well, before we left for the mission, I was engaged,” he took his dogtags out of his shirt and showed the ring.

A dainty little gold ring that looked as if it was sticks with small diamonds decorating it was on the chain.

“To an aviator named Birdie. I broke off the engagement and then moved to San Diego a week later.”

Bob ran his hands in his already messed up hair, “So when Lucky was giving hints as to who the new member was, she was just reminding me of her. I didn’t want to think about Bird, so instead I got angry and shut everyone out. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why break up with her, she’s a pilot too. She’d understand.”

Bob laughed sadly, “Because I’m in idiot. I don’t really want to get into it tonight.”

“Hate to break it to you Baby On Board, but I already kinda knew. Seriously, I mean, did you forget that I have access to personal and personnel records?” sassed Cinco.

“I’m so glad that you found your forever Bob and I can’t wait to meet her! What’s she like? Chirped Mouse.

Baylie took point in answering this, “She’s amazing, beautiful, fantastic, lovely, smart, funny, sweet…”

“Okay, we get it Bay, if we weren’t married you’d marry bird and make her one of your sister wives.”

“Damn right I would, too bad I’m stuck with your ugly ass.”

“Ouch.”

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

Bay shrugged while Mickey put his hands up in mock surrender.

“As you were saying Bob?”

“I messed up and broke up with her the harshed way possible so she wouldn’t think about me when I was on the mission. And with her back in my life I can’t help but have those feelings again.”

“So you never got over her?” questioned Phoenix, eyebrows furrowed.

Bob shook his head, “No. She’s my everything. I’ve known her since I was eighteen, we met on the first day of bootcamp. I knew by the end of our first date that I was gonna marry her.”

Dragon and Whiskey just screamed in happiness at the confession, they had never really heard Bob speak so passionately about love before and wanted nothing more than to hear everything he had to say.

Mouse was the first to speak, “That’s really sweet and I’m happy you found someone who makes you feel like that, but…” she took a deep breath, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t offend him, “If that’s true, why did you end things with her?”

Lucky stood behind Mouse, arms crossed and head nodding to the words that the shy woman had said and added. “You really are a dumb motherfucker aren’t you Robert?”

Tom and Ron exchanged glances before nodding in agreement with their pseudo daughters, only to get smacked by their wives in the back of the head.

The other guys had awkwardly chugged their drinks and avoided eye contact with Bob, not wanting to be caught and having to defend the man.

Rooster, that sap, was the one to speak first, “Do you still want to marry her? Just hearing what you have to say about Bird tells me that you aren’t over her yet.”

Bob answered immediately, “Of course I still want to be with her and marry Bird. I have no doubt in my mind that’s always been her in my heart and always will be.”

“Then we’ll do everything we can do to help you get her back. I don’t speak for everyone, just for me, but I want to see you happy and I get the feeling that the only person who can make you happy, is Birdie.”

Bob smiles, a sight the Dagger Squad hadn’t seen for a while, “She does, she really, really does make me happy.”

Hangman slaps a hand over Bob’s shoulders, “I’ll help you Baby On Board.”

One by one they come up and touch Bob’s shoulders or the top of his head, all agreeing with Jake.

He gave a half smile now that he knew his friends were going to help, he felt his chances of getting his Bird back rise.

Not too long after that the crowd became too much for his wandering mind, so he went home.

The next day on base was awkward to say the least. He knew she was in San Diego, but what he didn’t know was when she would show up at Top Gun.

Maverick had already started the lesson with all of the high ups behind him and to the side.

There was a door being abruptly opened and everyone looked back as Vice Admiral Simpson spoke, “Nice of you to finally join us Lieutenant Hallett.”

She walked her way down the middle of the desks in the many rows that the other aviators sat at before she opened her mouth to no doubt sass the man.

“Birdie.” he whispered breathlessly, head casted down.

She sat down and the lesson went on while the others giggled or laughed behind hands or coughs.

Maverick picked four of us to go into the air for the first flight test and after a weird interaction in the hall to the locker rooms, everyone else crossed the tarmac and made their way in the break room.

Bob kept his sights on Bird the whole way, she glanced at him as she walked to her jet. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. The happy memories that the two shared while back in Lemoore.

He missed the preflight ritual that they did, along with smiley and Athena. Bob gave a half-assed smile, but that didn’t last too long when he saw Bradley pat her on the head while she wore her helmet.

He can still remember the day that she got her helmet and designed it. Bird was so proud of herself, she hadn’t painted in years and was worried that it wouldn’t come out how she wanted.

Another great memory that he had made with her. Bob wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation from the radio, more on watching the sky and his Birdie fly like she belonged there.

When the exercise was over and the four pilots entered the recreation room, Bob’s focus came back into the world.

He was worried for her, he knew how taxing mentally it was to be called the best of the best, only to be shot down so quickly.

He knew that he had no right to be anxious about her. First this wasn’t a real mission, just a practice.

Secondly, she wasn’t his fiancee anymore, he held no claim to her. Especially after the way he acted the last week in Flordia.

Mickey patted his back as both got up and headed to the tarmac, pilots following their WSO’s, today was just going to be hard for him it seems.

After everyone had gone twice and shot down, both times, the day was over and everyone went to the locker room to change into civvies.

“So Bird, would you like to go to the Hard Deck later?” asked Mickey with a smile on his face as the group walked down the halls and to the parking lot.

“No thank you Mickey. I should unpack, I’m going to be here for a while.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear, how long?” chirped Mouse.

Bob was happy that she’d be staying, he really wanted to take the time and win her heart and trust back.

He felt Lucky’s anger through the glare she was giving him as they walked. Bob knew he deserved it ten times over.

Robert knew that once they heard the whole story, they’d hate him, Hell he hates himself still.

“We can help if you need?”

Bird smiled, “Thanks for the offer, but it won’t take too long.”

“Well if you end up needing help, don’t be afraid to call any of us.”

“She wouldn’t need you Bagman, Birdie has Mickey and me to help. Also stay away from my house or I’ll kick your ass.”

Jake put his arms up in mock surrender, eyes wide and a smirk on his lips. Bob rolled his eyes, he hates when Hangman’s ego acts up.

They all go their separate ways and plan to meet up a little later at The Hard Deck for drinks.

When Bob got home he immediately collected clean clothes from his bedroom and then got into the shower to wash away the day.

He didn’t feel like wearing his Khakis today at the bar so he opted out for an old Carhartt shirt, jeans, and that trucker hat he loves so much but never really wears anymore.

Bob grabbed his keys to the old Chevy truck and drove to the local Navy bar. After he parked, he didn’t really want to go inside, he knew by the cars that everyone is here again.

With a large sigh, he turned off the truck and went through the doorway of the building.

Immediately Bob spotted his found family and threw himself on the cushioned booth seat, surrounded by the group and handed a cup of water that had already been on the table.

Silence wasn’t something that the Dagger Squad did often, but when it was, it's because they were thinking.

It brought warmth to his heart that they actually wanted to help him, but also worried him for when they realized just what type of man he was.

Even if he only did what he did to not break her heart more if he didn’t make it from the Uranium mission alive.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they either kicked his ass or never talked to him again.

Which he deserves, no doubt in his mind about that.

Lucky being the biggest threat if the story got out, she already saw Birdie as a little sister and is protective of her.

He’s seen Baylie’s rage and never wants to be on the receiving end of it, but that might just be what happens.

Dragon was the first to speak after the silence had stopped, “So, what are you thinking about doing to get her back?”

Bob shakes his head chuckling nervously, “Honestly Dragon, I don’t have a Goddamn clue, Amanda won’t even look at me for longer than a second and barely talked to me today.”

“Oh yeah ‘Bo,’ she barely talked to you.”

His head snaps to Lucky, anger in his eyes. “You can’t call me that.”

Bob knows that Baylie won’t back down and he wouldn’t be surprised if she probably already knows the story or at least a little bit of it.

“How bout Bam? Can I call you Bam?” she questions sarcastically, Bird obviously told Mickey and her something about his childhood.

“No and you never call me anything but Robert or Bobby so stop using Birdie to get under my skin.”

“Why when it clearly works so well.” she smirked, the others around him smirking too.

They were all very entertained by this and he didn’t like that just bringing up something about his past could get him so angry.

“Children.” demanded Cinco, done with the fighting.

“Anyway,” said Dragon, getting them back on topic, “we need to start small, so she doesn’t get suspicious of what we’re doing.”

They all nodded, agreeing with her. Now they just have to brain storm ideas until they find the best one for Bob to start gaining Bird’s trust and friendship again.

Some ideas that were thrown out didn’t sound like something that Bob would do, more of a Jake thing.

Big gestures and an exclamation of how sorry he is, Bob is more of the quiet type, small gestures and slowly gaining the relationship back the right way.

It took many hours and many rounds of beer and water (for himself) before the group decided on a plan and paid their tabs before going home.

Bob stopped Mickey as they exited the bar, his friend slowly turned around, a smile on his face.

“How is she doing? Is she settingly in nicely?”

The other wizzo lightly slaps his back,“She’s doing good Bob and I’m not gonna lie to you, because you're my friend, she seems sad. She’s putting on a happy act for us, but we can see it in her eyes. Bird keeps busy around the house when we get home from base. If she can’t find anything to clean, she’s either in her room or walking Ozzy.”

Bob smiles, “Birdie has two brothers so she was the only sibling to actually clean when asked and her room was her get away from her brothers who pestered her a lot. I’m worried about her, Mickey. I hate to see her like this, this girl has been nothing but smiles and rainbows and I don’t think I’ve seen her this way except the last night I was in Lemoore.”

“Hey man, like I said yesterday, we’re gonna help you get her back. This is the first time I’ve seen you smile since the wedding and if she can do that by just being in the same room as you or even just being mentioned, I think what you have is worth the it.”

Bob gave Mickey a little side hug before they went to their cars. Lucky was in the front seat of the Garcia’s Jeep, blasting music and headbanging to the lyrics, making the men laugh.

He took off towards his house, listening to her favorite song and smiling like a total idiot.

Birdie’s Basket🧺: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2 @interstellarloneliness

10 notes · View notes

bvannn · 11 months ago

Text

Weekly Update March 8, 2024

I didn’t do as much as I had hoped over spring break due to still being sleep deprived, but tomorrow and the next night I should be able to catch up. I’m making a good deal of progress on stuff.

I figured out animation with Clip Studio enough to make a little gif of Romeo playing piano, to go along with his theme. I’m really happy with how it came out. That’s the biggest song I have ready, but I’m really close on another (unless I decide to get more ambitious, which I might), and I do have a smaller one scheduled to go up Tuesday. I’m feeling surprisingly good about music.

The main problem I’m having is kind of a ‘just finish it’ thing, where I’m just not motivated to go record melodies or melody parts for whatever reason. That’s what’s holding back a couple pieces now, but I’m hoping that I can do some tonight or tomorrow. I’m thinking tonight because I got hit with inspiration for another character theme melody, and I don’t want to lose it while I sleep tonight, but I’d feel bad starting in that when another character theme and some other miscellaneous pieces are also awaiting melodies and recordings. I’d like to knock a whole bunch out tonight, because theoretically they shouldn’t be that bad, the annoying part is dressing them up for use which doesn’t need to be done tonight. Im not sure if I want to tonight because I also want to draw, at a minimum I’ll record that character theme melody.

The other big music thing is a vocaloid cover of a song that I’m using to test out how vocaloid works. I got the audio back from the friend with the voicebanks, and it sounds a lot better than expected! There’s a couple things I do want to tweak, but I don’t think I’d be able to do it from within the program, it’ll probably be more me fiddling with the wav file. Idk song is going surprisingly well, shouldn’t be very complicated to round up instruments, I already got all the plugins set up it’s just a matter of recording. I’ve also managed to find a guy in my area who offers Guitar lessons for cheap, which I’ve been taking and I do think the two I’ve been to are helping. Maybe if I get really brazen I can record organic guitar instead of using a vst, since it should be mostly or entirely power chords, but it’s not the end of the world if I can’t.

I do want to figure out visuals to go with it. I was a little hesitant to really put in a big effort with it, until I heard that buying a license for cover rights is ‘not actually that expensive’. I don’t know if that means 10 or 200 bucks but worst case I can hold onto it until I’m comfortable enough to drop money if it’s really that expensive. I’d like to do a simple music video with the vocaloid character, since the original song’s video is also really simple, although I need to figure out character design. Might throw a few together and put up a poll.

I’ve been trying to get more drawing stuff done too, some miscellaneous animations mostly. I’m really trying to push myself to finish up the timings I need for my commission sheet, and honestly I’m pretty close. I feel bad because I probably will have to increase prices after all, but I’m also offering other options, which can still be cheap. I’m trying not to undercut myself for my level of work, but art commissions are so expensive that I don’t want to be overcharging either. Most of the comms I have done have come with tips, so I guess people are willing to pay a bit more than I was charging anyway, but even then I don’t want to crank the prices high just because a few people are willing to pay more. I’m charging based on time, I just need to sort out how long things take.

Final point, comic writing/thumbnailing is going well, I’m at 25.5/32. Unsure how bad editing is going to be, but I’m kinda editing as I go along so I don’t anticipate it’ll be that bad. I’m expecting to be able to actually start making pages soon. What comes next could either be a continuation or a pitch for the other story. I get more questions about the other story, so I’m tempted, but I also feel like it’s a harder sell than the first. Whatever I need to finish the first one first, and that’s what I’ll do.

I’m still messed up on sleep and flareups are also picking up pretty bad, but only in the mornings, so I bet if I get more sleep they’ll go away too. Either way I do have a consult for the next surgery to deal with that in a couple months, so I should hopefully be okay. Plan tonight is to either draw some more or record some stuff

#weekly update

3 notes · View notes

dccomicsimagines · 3 years ago

Text

The New Recruit - Kaldur’ahm x Reader

Requested by Anon - A story about the justice league employing new recruits in the young justice. Kaldur is both annoyed and in love with one new girl.

Requested by Anon - Can I get a fic where Kaldur falls in love with some badass girl after she rides on his moto to trash some criminal?

Requested by blackafricanqueen - Can I get a fix where Kaldur is both annoyed and in love with a justice league new recruit?

Slight spoilers for season four ahead...

***

Kaldur crossed his arms, eyeing the new recruits standing in the main area of the Watchtower. He and Artemis stood together to one side as Black Lightning addressed the new members. “Black Lightning believes these are the key for the league to stay current with the times?” he asked, glancing at Artemis.

Artemis shrugged. “Yeah, he says we need more diversity.” She snorted. “Diversity in abilities and training anyway.”

Kaldur hummed as Black Lightning finished and gestured for Kaldur to join him. Artemis gave him a supportive look as Kaldur left her side. “This is Aquaman. He’ll be in charge of getting you settled and trained on the League’s methods.” Kaldur barely hid his wince. Why did he become the League’s trainer? Couldn’t Batman do it?

Suddenly, one girl, maybe slightly younger than Kaldur, raised her hand. Black Lightning chuckled at the sight before nodding to her. “Is he Aquaman number one, two, or three? Isn’t there three Aquamans now?”

Kaldur narrowed his eyes at her. She just smiled back cheekily. “He’s the second Aquaman,” Black Lightning said, a smirk on his face. “Now I’ll leave you to him.” Black Lightning turned and walked out of the room.

“What now, sir?” the militant-looking recruit asked, relaxing slightly. He must be ex-military, Kaldur guessed. Jefferson never did give Kaldur the files on any of the new recruits. He’ll have to find them later.

“Now we will train.” Kaldur gestured for them to follow him as he turned to lead them deeper into the Watchtower.

“Yes, Aqua Two.” Kaldur looked over his shoulder at the girl. Annoying girl.

“Aquaman is fine,” Kaldur said shortly.

“But what if all the Aquamans are in the same place, then I’d have to call you Aqua Two, so might as well start now.” The girl grinned. Kaldur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking away. The other two recruits were wonderfully silent. Kaldur led them toward the training room, planning to put the annoying girl through more rounds with higher difficulty as a result.

***

“Is that it?” You panted, grinning at Aqua Two as he frowned deeply. You knew you pushed him too far and he was punishing you. It was very enjoyable to see him become more and more dissatisfied as you met every one of his challenges. Every part of your body ached. You were slowing down. Hopefully, Aqua Two will give up before you do.

“No.” Aqua Two gestured for the other two recruits to leave. “You are done for the day. See you tomorrow.” They quickly left. “I will run another simulation.”

You sighed, taking a moment to catch your breath. However, the simulation started immediately and you barely ducked to avoid a giant ax flying at your head. A huge Viking man formed out of thin air. You smirked and grabbed the ax as he took another swing. Riding the ax up in the air as he attempted to throw you off, you flipped over him to land a kick to his lower back. He stumbled allowing you to flip around him and perform a nerve strike to his neck. The Viking fell hard and disappeared. Two Vikings appeared the moment the other disappeared. You took a deep breath before standing your ground.

***

“Kaldur, aren’t you taking this a bit far? You had her in there for hours,” Raquel said, appearing at Kaldur’s side. Kaldur flinched. He should have heard her come in.

“This new recruit has an attitude problem.” Kaldur crossed his arms. He noticed you were slowing down. You took a hit to the face, toppling over. However, you recovered quickly, rolling back to your feet and taking down the Viking.

Raquel hummed. “You have to stop. This is Wonder Woman’s program. It will kill her.” She reached around and turned it off. You froze as the Vikings disappeared. Kaldur clicked his tongue. Raquel rolled her eyes and turned to you. “Go to the med bay. That last hit must have really hurt.”

“I’m good.” You grinned despite the blood dripping from your mouth. “Ready to keep going, Aqua Two? If you are still up for it?”

Kaldur blushed as Raquel glanced back at him with a smirk. “You’re done. Go home, (Y/N). We’ll see you here tomorrow.” Raquel waved you off and eyed Kaldur. You waved cheerfully and limped out of the room. “So you’re punishing her for teasing you?”

“It is improper.” Kaldur pursed his lips, realizing he was taking out his frustrations on you. Truth was, he didn’t like having to share the Aquaman name. It was the way it had to be, but it certainly led to several situations he didn’t appreciate. For example, being called in when they actually wanted Orin. Very irritating.

“She is just teasing you, Kaldur. No different than how I would.” Raquel shook her head. “I’ll have a word with her to lay off, but don’t take your frustrations out on the newbie because she annoys you.” She crossed her arms.

Kaldur sighed, dropping his shoulders. “I...You are right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Check on her for me.” He met Raquel’s eye. “I will apologize to her once I have time to...calm down.”

Raquel nodded, patting Kaldur’s shoulder. “Don’t take what she does personally. I’m the one who recruited her. She’s sassy, but her heart is in the right place.” Raquel walked out of the room. Kaldur watched her go before heading toward the zeta tubes to go back to Atlantis.

***

You couldn’t believe you had survived this long in the League. After the first day, you assumed you would be pushed out, but here you were on your first official Justice League mission. You brushed off your brand new suit even though you received it only a hour before.

“(Y/N), are you paying attention?” Aqua Two snapped, nudging your arm as he passed. You jerked back into reality. He waved for you to follow him. You hurried along, smiling brightly at the thought of being partnered with Aqua Two. This is a chance to proof yourself to him.

“I am. Ready to join you on guard duty.” You nudged him back. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he led you toward the zeta tube. You knew you were annoying him again with just your eagerness, but you didn’t care. Today was the day.

***

“It’s not every day you get to see the president in person,” you said as you sat on the edge of the roof next to Aqua Two. “He looks taller on TV.”

Aqua Two hummed in response, standing next to you as he scanned the crowd below. The Justice League was asked to provide extra security for the president when intel about an assassination attempt was revealed. An assassination attempt by a super villain nevertheless.

“No sign of any suspicious activity over here,” Plastic Man reported through the comlink.

“Nothing here,” you said before Aqua Two could speak. He narrowed his eyes at you. You shrugged. “What? I can speak too. Otherwise, why give me a comm?”

“Quiet.” He turned away from you, studying the crowd below. You looked too. Several minutes of silence passed. The crowd grew as the president began his speech. You listened, smiling when the president cracked a joke to lighten the mood. Aqua Two’s eyes were on you. You glanced at him. He blushed when you caught him looking.

You gave him a smile before examining the other roof tops. Nothing seemed to be out of place until you saw a slight flash of light reflecting on metal. Moving fast, you threw one of your shurikens just in time to stop a throwing knife from hitting the President in the chest. The assassin stepped out of the shadows and made eye contact with you. “Brutale.”

Aqua Two was giving orders through the comms, but you weren’t paying attention. Suddenly, Brutale threw another knife, but toward you. You were about to duck only for Aqua Two to tackle you to the ground. “Pay attention,” he growled as he rolled off you quickly and jumped to his feet.

“I was.” You hopped to your feet to see Brutale still on the roof. “I’m going after him,” you said before turning to look at Aqua Two. He looked back at you with a hint of concern in his eyes.

“You’re not ready for this.” He grabbed your arm, squeezing tight. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the president being escorted inside the building by Plastic Man and one of the other new recruits. Brutale watched the president before looking back at you.

You licked your lips. Brutale stepped back into the shadows. “I’m sorry, but I have to.” You jerked away from Aqua Two and fired your new grapple gun to give chase.

***

“Foolish,” Kaldur mumbled under his breath as he watched you go. He tapped his comm. “Is the president safe?”

“Yes, sir. The president is secure,” the recruit said. “Have we captured the assassin?”

“No, (Y/N) and I are in pursuit.” Kaldur ran for the fire escape and quickly climbed down the stairs. “Stay with the president.” He jumped down into the street, dodging the crowd when he saw you and Brutale fighting in the middle of the stage where the president had just been. Kaldur pushed past people, fighting his way to you. “(Y/N), I’m here. Keep him there.”

“Working on it,” you replied as you dodged several throwing knives. One nicked your cheek, but you kept fighting. Kaldur jumped into the fight. Brutale fell back once he realized he was outnumbered. Moving fast, he hopped into the crowd. You and Kaldur shared a quick look. Kaldur held up three fingers. You smiled before sprinting off to the right. Kaldur moved left. He felt proud you had memorized the signals so fast.

Brutale reached a motorcycle that was waiting for him on the street. He hopped on and drove off. “Crap.” You ran up next to Kaldur. Kaldur hummed, tapping his wrist to call his motorcycle. He had it hidden nearby, sensing it would be needed. Your eyes widened as it parked itself next to Kaldur. “Wow, do I get one of those?”

“Maybe. For now, you ride with me.” Kaldur climbed on. You eyed him before snuggling in behind him. Your arms tight around his waist. Kaldur felt a blush come to his cheeks. Luckily, you couldn’t see. Maybe you weren’t so annoying after all? Maybe even a little cute? He shook his head before zooming off after Brutale.

Kaldur followed Brutale closely. “Get alongside him,” you whispered. Kaldur tensed, feeling your breath on his ear. His body buzzed excitedly. He took a deep breath, pushing his thoughts aside. Brutale attempted to throw a few knives at Kaldur’s tires, but he dodged them.

Your arms left Kaldur’s waist. He felt your hands on his shoulders. A glance behind revealed you were standing on the motorcycle seat. “What are you doing?”

“I got this.” You patted his shoulder with one hand as he sped up to catch up with Brutale. Suddenly, you jumped onto Brutale’s cycle. He attempted to stab you, but you dodged it and attached yourself around his neck. Kaldur dropped back, watching worriedly.

With one jerk of the handles, Brutale’s motorcycle turned sharply, sending you and Brutale into the air. The cycle rolled several time. Kaldur slammed on his brakes. His heart stopped when he saw you hit the ground. The cycle flew over you and landed on Brutale who crashed on the ground after you. He heard a terrible snap.

“(Y/N)?!” Kaldur dropped his motorcycle and ran to your side. He tapped his comm. “We need medical assistance immediately.” Kaldur checked your pulse. He frowned at the blood pooling by your head. “(Y/N)? Can you hear me?”

You moaned, opening your eyes. “That hurt.” Your lips cracked that annoying, yet wonderful smile. “Did we get Brutale?”

“Yes, he is over there.” Kaldur glanced over at him. Brutale moved slightly, but he wasn’t going to be able to get away. Kaldur focused his attention back on you when you hissed. “Don’t move.”

“I think I broke my arm, Aqua Two.” You grinned when Kaldur narrowed his eyes.

“Hush now.” Kaldur sighed in relief as an ambulance arrived. “Never do anything like that again.”

“We got him,” you said, closing your eyes.

“You got him.” Kaldur pulled away as the paramedic came up. He went over to join the paramedic by Brutale to make sure he didn’t try to escape. Your laughter filled his ears and he knew you’d be okay.

***

A few hours later, you laid in your hospital bed. The TV played some old western. You watched it listlessly, wishing the pain in your body to go away. Apparently, they gave you some drugs, but the pain was still there.

A knock on the door frame cheered you up. You grinned, looking over at the door to see Aqua Two standing there with a bouquet of flowers. A smile pulled at your lips. Did he really get your flowers?

“Hi,” you said when he didn’t move, staring at your cast.

“Hello.” He shook his head, stepping inside. “The doctor said you are alright.”

“Yeah, just some broken bones. They want to keep me overnight for observation.” You gestured to the chair with your good arm. He took the seat before handing you the flowers. “Thank you.” You held them to your nose, breathing in their scent.

“I was told flowers are a customary gift for an injured person.” Aqua Two smiled tightly as you set the flowers in your lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. The painkillers aren’t kicking in super fast, but I’ll live.” You leaned back against your pillows. “Is Brutale in custody?”

Aqua Two nodded. “He is. You did a good job.”

You smiled, thinking it was only a few weeks ago when he was punishing you for being cheeky. “You did too. Couldn’t have done it if you weren’t driving.”

A nurse came in to check on your vitals. She glanced between you and Aqua Two. You bit your lip while Aqua Two blushed. “Everything looks good. Call us if you need anything,” the nurse said, sending you a wink as she shut the door to your room behind her.

“Tomorrow...” Aqua Two stopped and cleared his throat. Eyes on the floor. You watched him, smiling happily. “Would you allow me to escort you home from the hospital tomorrow?”

You reached out to take his hand. “I would appreciate that.” Your heart skipped a beat, his hand felt so strong. “Thanks Aqua Two.”

“Kaldur.” You blinked in surprise. He looked up at you, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “You may call me Kaldur.”

“Kaldur,” you said, testing the name on your lips. You liked it. He entwined his fingers with yours. Your skin electrized at the touch. “That’s a nice name.”

The two of you fell into conversation and the time slipped away. Eventually, you didn’t even notice the pain anymore.

#kaldur'ahm #kaldur'ahm x reader #kaldur'ahm imagine #kaldur #kaldur x reader #kaldur imagine #aquaman #aquaman x reader #aquaman imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #yj imagine #yj x reader #young justice imagine #young justice

456 notes · View notes

yelenaslyubov · 3 years ago

Text

Distractions In The Gym

main masterlist || kate bishop || requests

a/n: i apologize that stories have been slow lately, i’ve been trying to catch up on school work (and still am) so they may be slow for a while, so i just ask that you be a little patient with me :) also apologizes if there’s any grammatical errors, i made sure to check but not positive i got them all

requested anonymously

pairing: kate bishop x female reader

warnings: MINORS DNI (18+) smut, strap on, dom!reader, language, slight degrading, praise kink

description: kate has always had a little thing for you, so you decide to tease her by wearing your strap under your clothes while she trains with clint

word count: 2.1k

To say that Kate Bishop had feelings for you was an understatement. She might have been fooling herself, but not everyone else around her. You could see the way when you walked into the room she would undress you with her eyes and turn a bright shade of red as she turned away.

She thought she was hiding it well, the longing stares she would give you. You could see it as plain as day, but especially on training days. Her eyes would linger just a little longer over your figure in your gray sweatpants and workout attire. You couldn’t deny that it didn’t turn you on, how bad you could tell she wanted you but never made a move. You were about to change that.

You had studied her training schedule to know she would be down soon with Clint, so you decided to get yours partly out of the way in the meantime. You wanted to leave plenty of time in between for you to tease her a bit and distract her from getting anything done. It wasn’t long before you heard her boisterous chatter echoing down the stairs with Clint right beside her with his customary expressionless face.

Kate’s talking quickly turned into stuttering over her words when she saw you down there in the gray sweatpants she could never tear her eyes from. Especially not now, watching as she saw the outline of the strap you wore particularly for her, but also for the amusement you would get out of it in the end.

Watching the look on her face change was every bit entertaining, and you couldn’t shake the way her eyes kept darting for another look. You could only imagine just how wet she could be at the mere thought of what you were packing.

Smirking at her reaction, you turned away like the interaction never happened. This left Clint confused and wondering as to why Kate had gotten so flustered within seconds. It only encouraged you more, trying to think of how far you could push her until she couldn’t handle it anymore.

You carefully observed her every move, calculating the direction she would be facing to look right at you. Every stretch you did after rounds of lifting, you made sure to give her a peek. While bench pressing, you couldn’t ignore how Kate was completely sidetracked at every slight thrust of your hips. Each time, she was ensured to be hit with every punch Clint threw her way. There was no way she could last much longer.

You were nearing the end of your normal workout regiment, and you could tell the two of them were as well. It was obvious, with Kate being thoroughly engrossed in your activities and Clint’s frustration over it. Once you felt satisfied and you could practically sense her urgency, you settled on going into the locker room to preoccupy yourself before Kate would hopefully come tearing inside.

“Oh come on, I can keep going.” You heard Kate’s whiney voice raise slightly from outside the door.

“No, Kate. You’re pulling your punches and you’re going to end up hurt. I can tell your mind is somewhere else when I need it to be here. We can start again tomorrow when there’s not so much going on in your head,” Clint told her. “Get some rest or whatever you need to be in the right headspace for next time.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the repercussions of your behavior. Her sigh of defeat was enough to let you know of her irritation, and her fast footsteps were even more of an indication. All that was left was for you to do was give her exactly what she wanted.

“What the hell was that all about?” she nearly shouted, walking over to stand directly in front of you with her back to the lockers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You acted innocent as you calmly advanced closer to her.

“Oh don’t act dumb.”

Your hand was wrapped around the side of her throat as soon as the words left her mouth. She gasped at the sudden movement from you which startled her when her back slammed into the locker behind her, causing the sound to ricochet through the room. Your knee jutted out to position itself between her legs and the whimper she let out was cut off by your hand squeezing tightly on her neck.

“I would be careful running your mouth like that, Bishop. I think you’re the one acting dumb.” She tried to explain herself, but you didn’t give her the chance. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you practically eye fucking me. It’s cute how desperate you are for me.”

You observed her body language. Her heavy breathing, the lack of eye contact, and her legs trying to close to relieve her aching cunt on your thigh. Your other hand grabbed her face to turn it towards yours, looking her dead in the eyes.

“Your pussy is so fucking needy isn’t it, baby?” you tutted. “Couldn’t even focus on a single thing other than how bad you wanted me to fuck you with my cock. Am I right?”

You waited a moment in anticipation before she huffed, “yes, that's all I could think about.”

“Mmm, good girl,” you praised, causing her to whine a little at the pet name. “Since you think you need fucked so bad, why don’t you get undressed for me.”

You let go of her completely, hearing her sigh in relief at being able to fully breathe once again. In spite of that, she did as she was told and stripped down to nothing as you sat on the bench and watched in delight. The slight innocence that Kate radiated in the moment only made you want to fuck her harder. To watch you ruin such a pretty face as hers, all at your mercy.

She had now neglected all of her clothes in a pile on the ground, and she stood there exposed for you. You took your time to scan up and down her body.

“Such a pretty girl. Why don’t you come over here for me,” you taunted her. She strutted over to you and it didn’t take you long to yank her closer by her hips before looking up to stare at her.

In no time, you licked up her toned stomach and heard as she groaned feeling your tongue explore her skin. It was soon replaced by your lips ghosting over her abs in a slow and needy way that made her crave it even more.

“Please,” Kate whimpered into oblivion.

“Please what?”

She looked down at you nervously. “Please fuck me.”

“Oh baby,” you almost laughed. “You’re going to have to do it yourself since you’re so fucking desperate.”

She didn’t understand what you meant until you pushed her down onto your lap. A fiery passion shot through her when she recognized the bulge hidden under your sweatpants. The pure and raw feeling of the friction of your strap rubbing against her clothed cunt made Kate grind in your lap.

“So needy. Tell me, how bad do you want it?” You knew how gravely she wanted your rugged touch and to be buried deep inside her, but you wanted to hear her say it herself.

“I want it so bad,” she managed to say. “I want you.”

Her answer made your lips turn up into a devilish smirk. “Well since you want it so bad you’re going to have to do all the work.”

She innocently blushed at the remark and the fact your sweatpants were now pulled down below your waist, exposing the purple strap. You could hear the breath hitch in her throat knowing it was her signature color, all for her.

“I want you to ride my cock while I watch,” you said as you moved the hair off her shoulders to curl down her bare back. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded her head without a doubt before involuntarily twitching her hips to grind against your lap. The way she was so frantic for any kind of touch you could offer her was so erotic and put you in a trance. You wanted to see her ride you just as much as she did, which is why you grabbed her hips, pulled her up a bit then set her back down slowly, inching the strap deeper inside her.

“Fuck,” Kate moaned while arching her back a bit to expose her neck which you gladly nipped at.

She sat there for a moment to adjust herself. “Go ahead and move your hips for me, baby. Ride my cock,” you whispered against her skin.

She slowly but surely started to rock her hips back and forth, up and down, several profanities leaving her lips in the process. Your lips hovered over her skin, occasionally sucking on sensitive spots or gently biting down so you could hear her whine as your teeth grazed her.

Your fingertips slid and drew lines over her soft skin, up the curve of her waist. The amiable brush of your skin against hers lifted higher to her breast, massaging it at your will.

“You listen so well for me,” you husked while pinching the soft bud of her nipple between your fingers. “So hot riding me like this. You finally got what you wanted, didn’t you, baby?”

She could barely speak through whimpers along with the shift of movement from her hips. “Answer me. Tell me this is exactly what you wanted. Tell me how you’ve been dying for me to put my hands on you. How you’ve been needing me to fuck you for so long.”

“I need you,” she groaned. “I’ve needed you for so long.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” you teased her with a laugh.

“Fuck, I just need you to touch me,” Kate complained. You could tell her movements were slowing down, whether that be from exhaustion or simply frustration.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that just yet.”

She was anything but happy at your choice words. She was doing as much as she could, but she needed the extra push from you as well. At this rate, there was no way she could finish on her own.

“Please touch me. I need you to touch me,” she pleaded.

You looked her dead in the eyes. “I want to hear you beg for it, just once more. I need to hear how bad you want it.”

“Touch me. Please god, touch me.” She was just about on the verge of tears when you finally complied with her demands.

“There, better?” you asked as you began with slow, agonizing strokes on her clit. The ringing of her moans through the locker room was enough to let you know exactly how she felt.

“Your pussy is so stretched out and full for me, taking every inch like the good little slut you are,” you whispered tastefully into her ear. “Wonder just how long you can hold off cumming for me?”

She whined noisily at the challenge, you still fiercely rubbing her clit with reckless abandon. You could tell she was close, which made it an even sweeter demand.

You used your other hand to move her face down with your sharp touch. “I can practically see how bad you want to cum, it’s precious really. But you have to tell me how much you need to.”

Her hip isolations were becoming rigid and choppy as she neared the edge, her legs shaking on either side of yours. “I want to cum so bad, please let me cum.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” you smirked. “Go ahead and cum then, you’ve been a good girl.” You barely had time to finish the sentence before it was out of your mouth when she came around your strap.

She leaned forward to rest against you and you whined when she bit down on the skin of your exposed shoulder. You could feel the wetness pour down your fingers while still touching her, accompanied by her knitted brows and angelic moans.

She calmed down eventually, and you made sure not to miss a second of how she looked when she climaxed. When she couldn’t take anymore, she slipped off the strap and nearly collapsed on the bench beside you.

It wasn’t like you to leave right after such an activity, but you were having too much fun teasing her. That’s why when you pulled your sweatpants back up to enclose your strap and walked off with a satisfied smile on your face, you didn’t feel a bit guilty about it.

You desired to leave her wanting more.

join my taglist!

taglist: @youreatotalposer // @marvelr1 // @xxromanoffxx // @avengerswriter4eva // @xxxtwilightaxelxxx // @thelastkestis // @143bc // @la-reine-des-enfers // @peter3iscool // @chickenlittlsblog // @murderingchildren

kate bishop taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 // @kacka84 // @alotofpockets // @i-am-an-anachronism // @maia-lightwoood // @stormsbabymama // @jujuu23 // @imnotgoodwithimpulsecontrol // @lifeontop // @sarah5462 // @ladyylesbian

#marvel #hailee steinfeld #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x gender neutral reader #hawkeye #hawkeye show #my writing #dom!reader #kate bishop x dom!reader

580 notes · View notes

snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

a human touch, part 2, final

Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]

(masterlist here)

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

then he turns up at your door.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re aware of this because:

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

and:

b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can go get some from my apartment?”

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

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

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

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

And then you freeze.

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

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

The blood is blue.

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

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

Seokjin’s an android.

(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)

Seokjin’s a deviant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to your LED?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”

“Maybe I am,” you hazard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Much like Taehyung had.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“How did he—why did he deviate?”

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But.

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

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

“Has Jin always been like that?”

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

“You love him a lot,” you say gently.

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

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

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

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

“That sounds great,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve missed this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s just, uh. One little thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A thing that people and deviant androids do.

A thing that Taehyung does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nice.

“You seem happier.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re in so, so deep.

(But who can blame you?)

“I want to go outside.”

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

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

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

So what you say is: “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)

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

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

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

(Whatever this is.)

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

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

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

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

(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)

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

You’re certain Taehyung will, too.

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

(So human.)

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

Taehyung is enraptured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like love?” A whisper.

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

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

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

“Oh, Y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

You panic. Just for a second.

Taehyung doesn’t.

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

And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.

Namjoon is utterly charmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Loyalty. Dedication.)

(A breath.)

(Love.)

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

(More of him.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re staying late again.”

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

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

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

It’s unnerving.

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

“No,” you lie.

Yes, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that you would want to.

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

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

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

It's hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he speaks.

“You’re avoiding me.”

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

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

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

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

“Why are you lying to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Independent?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(No one chooses you. Why would they?)

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

And then all the lights go out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung? What are you—”

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

“Taehyung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung, though, is intent on you.

“Y/n?”

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

“Yes?”

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

You don’t respond. Not right away.

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

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

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

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

“I do. I want to be here with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More?” He murmurs against your skin.

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

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

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

And you can touch, too.

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

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

“Angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

Then he looks down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he turns his head and—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung,” you murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything, you think. I want everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, oh God,” you gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you say.

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

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

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

“Not yet,” you say.

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

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

“I love you,” he says.

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

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

“Not staying late?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bts #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

2K notes · View notes

a-marlene-s · 4 years ago

Text

Commission: Actions and Consequences

Tags: (I’m going to do a reblog tomorrow with the tags.)

@miner249er commissioned me to write this fic.

If you like my work, please considering supporting me! https://ko-fi.com/a_marlene_s

Warning: SALT SALT SALT SALT. CLASS SALT! LILA SALT! ADRIEN SALT!

Oh, and there’s a bit of Lukanette in this~

----

You know what they say…

All actions have consequences.

Every choice has a consequence.

Be responsible and be…

You get the idea.

This has been on the mind of everyone in the school of Dupont for who knows how long. Oh wait, that really hit home when one Lila Rossi came to Paris and started her lies. It looks like the only ones that were clearly fooled by her lies is the Akuma Class. Including their own teacher!

Well… except for Marinette.

She is the only one that is not fooled into believing such things. Who in the right mind would believe any of that? Akuma class, that is whom. People began to pull away from them. One by one, not wanting to be connected to them. Not so much for the fact they are known as the Akuma class… it is for the lack of regard they have for Marinette.

How dare they treat Marientte in such a way! After what she has done for them! For all of them! They believe the words of that liar over a friend they have known far longer. Some have tried to reach out, but Rossi is always near or just sucks them back into her webs of lies. Whatever work they have to get their friends back to a world of reality, it is reversed back the moment they step back into that classroom filled with webs.

Many have tried and tried again to help them. To help them see the light of what has been going on, but they all refused to see the light. Many of them growing toxic to themselves that it is better to cut ties then to deal with them anymore.

Who could blame them?

They tried. Truly tried.

Did they want to lose their friends?

No. They did not. But for their own health and sanity… they cut their losses and moved on. At least, they are reassured, that the only ones in Rossi’s grasp is the Akuma class sans Marientte Dupain-Cheng. For which, they made a promise to get protect her from them. She does not deserve the mistreatment. No one does.

-.-

It started out small.

Too busy to hang out.

Leaving messages on read.

Avoiding having them around.

Cutting conversations short.

Many other things to get away.

Some others… are more up front with their dislike with Lila Rossi.

They do not bother to hide their disgust.

Some kept quiet to a degree…

Mireille gave Lila a worried smile as she started to tear up about Aurore’s mistreatment towards the latter. She simply patted Lila’s cheek, leaning close so that she could wrap her arms around Lila to give her a comforting hug… before whispering into her ear as everyone watched on. “Play along… after all… this is just a game for you. You don’t want to disappoint your audience.”

It wasn’t much of an issue to play along with Lila’s games when she tried to bring in the Akuma Class as backup. Long as you show sympathy, play along with Lila’s games against her… you should be good. Lila will never break in character in front of them. Long as you don’t call her out in front of them and act just as deluded to make her mess up, it’s all good.

Then there are the times one has to be more up front…

“Achoo! Ugh, sorry, allergies you see.” Aurore sneered out as she ‘accidentally’ stabbed her umbrella into Lila’s hair when she sneezed. “I’m allergic to bullshit.”

Lila’s jaw dropped as she tried to pull her hair but only wincing as her hair really got caught in the umbrella. She looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention. But… no one is paying any mind. If anything, one of them even went as far to offer Aurore an allergy pill. “Why are you doing this? I never did anything to anyone!”

“Oh, shut up. We all know you’ve been mistreating Marinette since day one.” Aurore teased, there was a glint in her eyes as she easily untangled her umbrella out of Lila’s hair. “All of us were willing to stand back because Marinette asked us to. Then you got her expelled… Let’s make some truths…”

-.-

Slowly but surely, things began to change for Bustier’s Class. Or better known as, the Akuma Class began to see a change. Then again, things have been happening and have been so caught up in Lila’s lies to even take note of any of it at first.

Many have already put a distance between them and themselves.

It’s silly really. None of them really had taken note of the fact here is now a wall between them. Slowly growing as time goes by. It really came ahead when news spread around on Marinette’s expulsion and her return back to school without much of a say on what happened.

Except for the fact Lila claims Marinette had stolen an answer sheet, her necklace and pushed said girl down a staircase.

Why no one bothered to look deeper into those lies, is beyond anyone at this point. What really got to the rest of the school is how the Akuma Class, Bustier and Damocles’ are so far up Lila’s ass that they wonder if they could even see the sun at this point. It was at that point, the gloves were off and no more.

It was time to bring out the big guns when word got out that Lila supposedly has a lying disorder… only to Bustier and Damocles. Only them, no one else. Thus, only causing more tension for Marinette with the rest of her classmates as they still believe the original lies. All of them giving her a side eye, wondering what she should do next.

Marinette doing something against Lila?

Hah.

It’s going to be the entirety of Dupont against Lila now.

Dupont vs the Akuma Class, sans Marinette. They love their sleep deprived cinnamon roll that could possibly kill them once she finds out what they are up to.

It would be so worth it though…

-.-

“I’m sorry Rose, I’m going to be busy that weekend. Busy, busy at the studio!” Mireille smiled sweetly at Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Alya and Lila. “Nadja is prepping me to do live interviews over the weekend. I’ve been told I might interview a rock star! Isn’t that great!”

“Wow! That’s amazing, Mireille!” Rosa said in awe. The others following along, amazed by the news. They were gushing over the fact Mireille is possibly going to interview a pop star soon. Going on and on… Mireille simply smile, keeping her arms behind her back and her knuckles turning white as she kept a tight grip on the back of her blouse. She kept an eye on Lila, her smile only growing as Lila tried to steer the conversation back to herself.

Mireille did not care; this would be the perfect opportunity for her to walk away.

Expect when she saw Marinette walk down the hallway with Aurore.

“Hey Marinette, did you hear? Lila knows who Mireille is going to interview.” Alya mentioned, grinning at Lila’s direction. “

Marinette paused, nose scrunching up. She looked over at Mireille to see her eyes narrowing at the direction of Lila. Clearly, this is one of the many lies Lila has up her sleeves. Aurore smiled at Lila, almost warningly. “Yeah, she told us last week.”

Marinette looked around her classmates to smile at Mireille. “Nadja finally got in contact with them?”

“Thanks to you, Marinette. Nadja got in contact with all of them.” Mireille smiled widely at Marientte and Aurore. “We can’t thank you enough for that favor! Come on! I know the perfect tea shop!”

Mireille walked over to Marinette and looped an arm around one of Marinette’s own. Her smile only grew as Aurore looped her own arm around Marinette’s free arm. The two girls quickly pulled Marinette away from Lila’s sights all the while talking about the interview and the tea shop.

“Did… did they just ditch us?” Alya pulled a face as she watched Aurore, Marinette and Mireille walk away. Mireille had earlier mentioned she was going to be busy after classes which is why they asked her if she was going to be free this weekend. Apparently, she’s supposedly busy with other things than to thang out with them. Why?

“Hey, girls… is everything alright, Alya?”

Alya and the rest of the girls turned around to see Nino and Adrien walking up to them. Her smile grew when she saw Lila warp an arm around Adrien’s own. What she didn’t see is how stiff his smile became but continued on.

Adrien looked ahead to see Marinette with a Mireille and Aurore. The three chatting away without a care in the world. His brows furrowed at the sight. As of late, this has been becoming the norm…

-.-

“Mom said we could hire a DJ for the event, but…”

“Davis already have the day filled?”

“Yeah. Along with Diego, Mei and Lola.”

“What about Nino? He DJ’s, too right?”

“Hah! Dad, don’t joke! Like I want him to DJ the party! Marinette is going to be there and if I have him there, he’s going to wonder why no one else in his class was invited. I am not going to invite a bunch of people that have been mistreating my friend.” Claude grimaced at the thought. He was not going to have Nino DJ his party. If things were different, things would have been different. It is his party. His. He is not going to run the risk of Lila Rossi and her flying monkeys coming to his party and making it all about her.

Yeah… that is not happening.

Lila will find a way turn the party so that it’s geared towards her. She did that at Izzy’s 15 birthday bash and it took Izzy weeks to console her after she regretfully invited Rose, who in turn invited Lila after she overheard the blonde telling Juleka about it. Rose never asked or apologized to Izzy about inviting Lila, who in turn invited her flying monkeys.

Yeah… Claude was not going to let that happen. To make sure that does not happen no one from the Akuma Class, except for Marinette, is invited to his party.

“That’s a bit harsh. I’m sure there’s more to the story. You and Nino were good friends for some time now.” Claude’s father said, worry filled his tone.

“And I thought Nino was close friends with Marinette far longer but apparently that does not matter to him.” Claude deadpan. “I am not going to have Nino DJ the party. Plus his girlfriend is Lila’s main supporter. If I do have Nino DJ, he’ll tell Alya who will tell Lila and I am back to square one. The one I want to avoid! I don’t want Lila Rossi at my party!”

“I’m sure she’s just trying to make friends…”

“…that’s what you said about Clarice before mom divorced you.”

-.-

Adrien paused mid-bite, straining his ears to overhear what is being said on the booth several seats away. He overhead Claude saying Nino and Lila’s names several times but never a clear sentence. It took a while before it caught on what is being said.

Izzy’s party was amazing to say the least! He went along as the rest of his classmates invited him along and he finally got permission to go by his father. The party was amazing to say the least! The music! The food! Everything else!

Why wouldn’t Claude want to ask Nino to DJ his party? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to invite everyone. It would be horrible to note everyone. Wasn’t Claude friends with everyone in his class?

Right?

Sitting across of Adrien is Nino, concentrating on a calendar that he brought out along. Nino has been… struggling to get gigs for a while now. It was not so much he could not get someone to hire him, from what Nino has been telling Adrien, it’s actually doing his job. As of late, he hasn’t been asked to DJ for anyone else outside of his class. Sure, there are some here and there, but at times… he needed to cancel because Alya wanted to do something with Lila and wanted him there for it.

-.-

Luka resisted the urge to pull out his ears as the rest of Kitty Section, sans Adrien and Marientte, whisper to other. All the while sending him weird looks throughout. This is the first time they have met up for practice in well over a month since they keep bailing on practice. Why? They prefer to hang out with Alya… who is hanging out with this Lila Rossi. All. The. Time.

They all have been talking about Lila Rossi… nonstop. Going on and on about her. To the point, Luka suspects that Rose wrote a song about her for some damned reason. Why are they talking about her?

Lila Rossi knows Jagged Stone.

How Lila Rossi’s dance move got stolen from Clara Nightingale.

How close she is to Prince Ali.

Lila knows a lot of people that could, supposedly, get them famous. How Lila has connections to help Kitty Section become famous. Knows someone that would make them better costumes. Along with even knowing how to write better music.

Lila this…

Lila could do this.

Luka stood up from his spot from the makeshift stage with his guitar in hand. There tunes are different, no longer in tune to the music, let alone to their hearts. More so when he is supposedly out of ear shot and they started to whisper about how Lila mentioned that he, the founder of Kitty Section, should no longer be in the band. How Lila told them how he is hold them back and that she knows someone that is better than himself.

Him holding them back.

Really?

Rossi is the one that is holding them back.

If they want to repeat that broken tune, so be it. He needs to find his muse. Luka left them to whisper to themselves. If Lila believes that they do not need him, so be it. Leaving without much of a fight, he knew when it was a time to retreat until they got their bearings. Right now, he now needs to find out more about Lila Ros-

“Psst! Over here!”

“Hey! You! Luka!”

Luka paused, an eyebrow raised as he slowly turned around to see two individuals, some of his sister’s friends from a different class, are calling out to him. They were both holding umbrellas, which only made them stand out more in his opinion. “Hello?”

“Come here!” The blonde motioned for him to walk over to them.

“Hurry before they see you!” The other said, pointing down the hall. Luka looked down said hall to see Adrien and some unknown girl that is clinging onto his arm. Oh.

Luka hurried over to the girls and they promptly hid him under their umbrellas and behind the pillar with them. It was close enough to listen into whatever Adrien and the new girl’s conversation.

-.-

Adrien stood by as Kitty Section walked out to meet him and Lila, and they started to talk about Lila’s advice. What’s this advice? That it would better for Luka to leave Kitty Section as it would be too weird for him to be in the band with them. It is concerning to say the least. Are the really going to kick out Luka from the band?

“It is better this way. Luka is only holding all of you back.” Lila smiled at her classmates as she tightened her grasp around Adrien’s arm. “All of you are better off without him. I’ve talked to that producer friend of mine and Jagged Stone, and they both agree. Luka is no good for your image.”

“I suppose you are right…” Juleka said, twiddling around with her gloves. Rose reached over to hold onto her hands and gave her an encouraging smile. Juleka chewed on her bottom lip as she thought it over.

“I am positive that Luka will understand.” Lila smiled once more and this seemed to put Juleka in a better place.

“We have been practicing without him for the last month.” Rose mentioned, tugging onto Juleka’s hands. “We could do it.”

Lila smiled brightly, increasing her hold around Adrien. She looked at the blonde for support. “Right, Adrien?”

-.-

Who does she think she is???

They have been practicing without him. For the past month? Without him? Well, that’s one thing he could easily take with a grain of salt. What his sister is saying has his song beating a new beat that hasn’t been played for so long. What really got Luka’s attention is the fact they were all eating up Lila’s lies.

Are they really that gullible?

“This is just the bare minimum of what Rossi has been doing to your sister’s class.” Aurore explained, motioning for Luka to follow her and Mireille.

Luka’s brows furrowed over the blonde’s words. “…Is something being down about it?”

“More or less, but that’s for later. Right now, we are planning a party later for Marinette and we need you to distract her for a bit.” Aurore said, nudging Luka with her elbow and gave him a sly grin. “The party is for her. Did she tell you about her class situation?”

“Marinette has mentioned she wanted to tell me something but everytime she tried to say it, one of her classmates popped up and she would go quiet…” Luka trailed off as he took that in. Oh, that would explain some things. Shaking his head, he would ask her later about it. “I’ll talk to her later about it. Tell me more about this Lila…? I don’t like her song.”

-.-

Mendeleiev was never one that cared so much to know about the personal lives of her students. In terms that, she does not care who is dating (long as it is a healthy and very much legal relationship), knowing what her students are doing after classes (long as it is nothing illegal or against the rules), and well… whatever she had just witnessed from down the hall.

Ondine just broke up with Kim.

Which is a big surprise considering how googly eyed they are… were for each other. A big shock, that’s for sure. However… considering what has been going on, it’s no surprise to anyone. Well…

To Bustier’s class that is. Those poor, poor, souls do not know what is coming to them. It was just a matter of time and patience before someone loses said patience. There is only so much someone could stand idly by or do their best to help others, before washing their hands of them. Look at herself? Mendeleiev did so to Bustier due to the fact the younger woman refuses to listen to reason.

Mendeleiev shook her head as she headed to her room. She needed to create some paperwork in hopes that will push some people to see things her way.

-.-

Adrien gulped when he heard the news that Ondine broke up with Kim. That came out from nowhere! Completely out of nowhere. Why did she break up with them? They were so happy together it does not make any sense.

A lot of things have not been making sense for a while now. Many of those things were small at first, but Adrien could no longer shake off that creeping feeling there is more t-

“Adrien… a word?”

-.-

Marinette stared down at her phone, her shoulders shaking as she read the text messages her fri… her classmates are sending her. Varies of texts that has her wondering what the heck is going on to her class, are they finally seeing the rest of the school just does not tolerate Lila?

“Block them, Mari.” Luka murmured into her ear while he played with her loose hair. He and Marinette were in her latter’s room on the sofa, with the bluenette snuggled up to Luka. He reached for the phone and took it from Marinette, ignoring the pout that was sent his way. Placing the phone in his pocket for safe keeping, Luka wrapped his arms around Marinette and reached down to give her a peck on her neck.

“I suppose I could forget about them for now…” Marinette giggled at Luka’s actions, she smiled when she felt Luka grin against her neck. She raised an eyebrow at Luka, despite the fact he could not see it. “Are you hiding something from me, Luka?”

“You could say that… Aurore and Mireille asked me to distract you as they set up a surprise.” Luka mumbled into her neck, his grin ever present. “How am I in distracting you?”

Marinette’s jaw drop when she felt Luka started to press kisses up and down her neck, her mind went blank just long enough to return the favor. This was so much better than dealing with her classmates demanding answers to something they should have known since day one.

-.-

“Ugh, again with Lila crap?”

“I know, right? Why does Alya keep posting those so-called interviews she has for Rossi?”

“I don’t know, but have you seen ClaudetteOneEye’s reaction and debunking of it? Hah! Her best yet!”

“She already did a reaction to it! I need to watch it!”

“We still have time before class, watch it now!”

Alya really wanted to storm out of the stall and yell at the individuals that were clearing mocking Lila, who in turn mocking her. What is there to debunk? There is nothing to debunk! Lila has been most telling about her history with Ladybug. They are best friends for Pete’s sake! Alya took out her phone and started her search to show those gir-

“You know how Alya always goes on and on about how she’s a reporter and always checks her facts…”

Snort.

“Hah. Her checking facts? Has she ever checked on any of the crap Lila has been spewing? Any of it?”

“I know, right? Plus, has she ever asked Ladybug about it before posting any of their interviews?”

“Like the little good reporter that she is? Unlikely. No wonder Ladybug has been ignoring her.”

Has… has she ever asked Ladybug about Lila? Alya ran a hand through her hair as she tried to think of an answer to her question. Of course, there were times when she has recently tried to get an interview, but Ladybug just… started to avoid her.

-.-

“Saving Jagged Stone’s cat? If they looked it up, they would have checked that him and his fiancé are allergic to animal fur.”

“Doesn’t he have a pet crocodile?”

“Yeah. He does.”

“That’s just as pathetic as her knowing Prince Ali and being friends with him.”

“Uggghhhh. That doesn’t even make sense, she’s been here in Paris for months before she started coming to Dupont.”

“That’s what I thought! Among the other bull she’s spewed out, the ones that grinds my gears are all the ones she lied about Marinette…”

“Yeah. They all known her for years and this new girl comes along and what? All that goes out the window?”

“Marinette does so much for them, and this is the thanks she gets? That they’ll believe Lila’s lies that she supposedly pushed her down the stairs, steal her necklace and some other bullshit?”

“Still heated about it?”

“Of course, I’m heating about it! They still think she did those things! From what Marinette told Aurore and Mireille, they didn’t even let her talk or defend herself. They took Lila’s side and expelled her.”

“Tell me again, how Marinette got un-expelled?”

“From what Marinette told them… Lila said she had a lying disease.”

“That is bull. I am so over the moon over the fact she’ll be leaving that class. Come on, Aurore said she’s going to need help setting things up.”

Juleka, Mylene and Nathaniel pushed themselves against the wall as they watched several students run past them towards the courtyard. Their expressions betrayed how they felt over what they just overheard. Did they just hear right? Lila has been lying this whole time… and none of them… No, just their class never caught it.

Except for Marinette.

Mylene shakily took out her phone to look up all of Lila’s stories, the others followed in doing so.

-.-

Adrien sat on a stone bench as he watched Kagami paced in front of him. Every time he tried to say something, she would shoot in a glare. He looked down on his lap as he tried to think of what he should say when he’s finally able to speak. Somehow, Kagami found out about Lila’s lies. All of them. From whom, he does not know. Maybe Marientte told her, he’ll have to ask her about it. She shouldn’t have told Kagami about Lila. “Kagami, did Marientte tell you about Lila? I-”

“Agreste, everyone at school and whoever has met Rossi, knows she is a liar. Everything that has ever come out of her mouth is a lie. Everything.” Kagami said in a tight voice. She stopped pacing to stare down at Adrien. “Marientte told me nothing. I was the one that had to go around to figure out exactly what type of person she is.”

“Why didn’t you ask me about Lila before you asked others?” Adrien asked, head shooting up to stare at Kagami with confusion. “I would ha-”

“You would have attempted to pressure me to not do anything against Rossi once I found out exactly what kind of person she is. However, considering you never told her off about that picture she took of the two of you…” Kagami looked up and down at Adrien, her mouth twisted into a scowl. “You would have attempted to have me stay quiet about Rossi’s nature. Just like you are doing to, Marinette… correct?”

“I-I just don’t want to cause problems!” Adrien exclaimed, pushing himself off the bench. “I don’t want any problems in class, and with Marinette trying to out Lila it was impossible. I don’t want Lila to get akumatized anymore.”

Kagami stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what of your classmates? Your friends? Marinette or myself? I was akumatized because of her, remember? Don’t we all matter too?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Kagami.”

“Complicated? Complicated! How is that complicated! Explain yourself!”

“…”

“…What did you tell Marinette about Lila’s lies? Adrien, what did you tell her?”

“Could we drop this?”

“Tell. Me.”

“I told her, as long as me and her know the truth, does it really matter?”

“Adrien, it does matter! Everything matters! You are allowing Rossi to walk all over Marinette and make her out to be the bad guy for trying to stand up for herself.” Kagami snarled out, causing Adrien to jump. “You are forcing her to stay quiet about someone’s lies. You do realize once your friends find out, they will be the ones that are going to get akumatized. Not Rossi. What then? Who are you going to protect then?”

“I’m doing my best, Kagami.” Adrien pleaded.

“Your best is not good enough. Rossi is escalating and you are doing nothing. What will happen if she says you two are dating? What then? Far as I supposed know, are dating but this is extremely one sided considering you keep putting Rossi’s feelings above everyone.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“…you are pathetic. Your best is not good enough and it will never be.” Kagami sniffed, she pulled out her phone to look at the time and grinned a bit. She put it away before starting back at an obviously hurt Adrien. “What? Like I would allow someone who I am supposedly seeing, to put some other girl’s feelings above my own.”

Adrien opened and closed his mouth, unable to say anything as he was unable to respond to Kagami’s words. How was he supposed to respond that, there was no answer to that for him. “Please understand th-”

Kagami shook her head before she pulled out phone before putting it away. She gave Adrien on last look before walking away. “You need to stop putting horrible people above those that have been nothing but supportive of you… It’s no wonder why Marinette has finally given up.”

-.-

Ladybug swung around Paris at night as she thought over today’s events. It’s safe to say, that today has been one of the best days of her life since becoming Ladybug to say the least. She felt free and no longer held up to an impossible standard. To think transferring to a different class has made her feel as such. It also may have helped she told everything to Luka what has been happening to her since Lila came to Paris. The memory of that conversation made her blush as at the end of it, they are now officially together. It made her happy, immensely so.

Their first date was at the welcoming party Aurore and Mireille threw for her transfer to their class. Best date and party ever. The cherry on top, was when her former classmates crashed the party(apparently that was planned) and Claudette of @ClaudetteOneEye did a live reaction to one of the newest interview of Lila. It was priceless to say the least. Her former classmates tried to approach her but that was shut down immediately. Many other things had happened at the party that made it so much better, but that’s a thought for another day.

Right now, there is someone sitting alone at the park.

Is that Adrien?

Ladybug let out a sigh before she swung down to the park.

Adrien blinked a couple of times when he heard steps walking towards him. He looked over to see Ladybug walking up to him. He smiled at the sight of her. “Hello, Ladybug? Having a good night?”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at Adrien, she sensed something is up with Adrien but did not make any notion for him to open up. “A little late to be out, Adrien?”

Adrien shrugged before he looked down at the ground, his brows furled deep in thought. “Can I ask you something, Ladybug? I need your advice in something?”

Ladybug stared at him for a moment before motioning for him to speak. Might as well hear what Adrien wants to say and need advice in. This is new considering how his advice has never been exactly the greatest.

Adrien began to tell her about the advice he had given to Marinette, when it came to Lila.

Adrien Agreste is asking her opinion on the advice he had given Marinette, who by extension, is actually herself. The same advice that had weighed heavy in her mind so much so, that it nearly akumatized her. Ladybug had stopped listening to Adrien as she felt anger started to bubble within her. This is too much, far too much. It was one thing to ask her about his original advice. Oh no, now he’s going on about Marinette’s actions that contradicted mentioned advice.

For what? To make sure that Lila does not get akumatized. Again.

“And Marinette? What of Marinette? Were you not even worried if she got Akumatized because of Lila?” Ladybug cut Adrien off. “Have you even thought of the highly possible chance she could be the one getting Akumatized over your advice? Paris got very lucky tonight there were no akumas out tonight otherwise the city would have Akuma’s at every corner of it.”

Adrien looked shocked over Ladybug’s words. His silence, his answer, has Ladybug starting to pace around.

“No, you did not care. What you cared is to make sure Marinette kept quiet and did not stand up for herself. Not only to Lila, but also by extension to Chloe.” Ladybug grounded out, sending Adrien a glare as she continued to pace. “You expected Marientte that as long as the two of you knew the truth, that nothing else pretty matters? That as long as Lila continued lying to everyone and allowing her to walk over Marinette, who is supposed to be your friend, that it did not matter?”

“It’s not like that, Ladybug.” Adrien stood up and approached Ladybug. Ladybug raised a hand at Adrien’s direction to stop him from getting close to her.

“Then how is it, Adrien?” Ladybug questioned. “You are prioritizing Lila over everyone, even if it puts them all at risk at getting akumatized themselves. Is that what you wanted to hear? That your advice is horrible. Let me tell you something, Marinette, your supposed friend to nearly get akumatized. Twice. It’s all because of Lila and the second time, Hawkmoth got to her and for some reason the akumatization did not take place. Lila caused that. All because she wanted to keep your promise when it came to her. Truth is that Lila Rossi is a liar that should have been exposed a long time ago and I am happy that it happened tonight. I am happy!”

“What about Lila? It was horrible what happened to her, she got humiliated in front of nearly the entire school.” Adrien tried to ask but was cut off when he saw Ladybug pulling out her yo-yo.

“To be frank Adrien… when it comes to bad people… you need to knock them down several pegs to get them to understand how wrong they are.”

#ML #ML Salt #Lila salt #Adrien Salt #Class Salt #Lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #adrien agreste #salt #miraculous ladybug

2K notes · View notes

hopespeak-hs-hostclub · 3 years ago

Text

Wanna Make A Bet?: A Mondo Owada smut request.

18+ ONLY. DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18!!!!!

NSFW: request and story under cut

TW:// exhibitionism, public pleasure, chastity belts, orgasm deprivation, cursing

Word Count:// 1,976

“a one-shot featuring mondo oowada practicing exhibitionism please? In the story, he'd go to town to do errands wearing a face mask. In truth, he'd have a vibrator on him with his cock in chastity and his mouth tape gagged under the mask. His objective is to finish his errands without anyone exposing him or him cumming in public. And I kinda imagine that he's doing this out of a dare between his gang members. To show he's a real man whose in control of himself. He would mainly be alone but his gang leaders would look from a distance to see if he hasn't lost yet.”

“Wait bro, you’re what?” One of the guys piped up quickly. Mondo just sighed heavily and look his friend / gang member in the eyes and repeated himself. “I’m an exhibitionist, man.”

“What the fuck is that??” Another gang member asked almost instantly.

“Jesus Christ- fuck all of you,” Mondo said getting pissed off at his friends. “I told you that sitting around like a bunch of little bitch ‘drinking and talking about our feelings‘ or whatever the fuck was fucking stupid.”

“No come on bro, none of us have literally ever even heard of that before”

“Fuck, it just means I like the idea of people seeing me get off, I guess?” Mondo said sharply looking at all his friends sitting around him. “like I get off on it I fucking guess.”

“So like, you want to jack off in public?” One of them asked.

“I’ll kick your fucking ass bro- that’s nasty dude. I’d never want anybody unsuspecting to fully see it dude, christ” Mondo stood up out of his chair and looked at them all. “You’re so fuckin dumb- all of ya! I don’t wanna be put on a damn sex offender list for touching myself in the goddamn park or something! I just… want to get off in front of people. It seems fucking hot,” he admitted while shrugging.

A few of the guys exchanged glances, and started to mumble to each other, just soft enough that Mondo couldn’t make out what was being said until they all looked back at him. “Wanna make a bet?” One of the guys asked as he stood up to be eye level with their gang’s leader.

“How much? And what kinda bet we talkin?” Mondo asked, admittedly intrigued.

“20,000¥. Meet us back here tomorrow at noon. Got it?”

Mondo just rolled his eyes. “Whatever, but I got some fuckin errands to run so you better make it quick, got it assholes?” He made eye contact with everyone else in the room, as they just snickered at him.

And that’s how he got here. In the bathroom of the garage the gang always meets at. Mondo sighs and looks in the duffel bag his friends tossed into his arms when he walked in, with no instructions further than “put it all on and get back out here.” ‘How did they even get all this stuff so last minute? Did they already have it?” Mondo thought to himself. So he did. He started by putting on, and locking, the chastity belt, which made him just a little too excited. Mondo hasn’t ever actually used a chastity before, he just knows they’re supposed to make him last way longer since he can’t touch himself, and he knows it’ll keep him nice and hard. Then he decided to use the duct tape, and gag himself with it, keeping his mouth shut. The next logical move for him was to put on the black face mask, so nobody could see the tape gag situation he had going on. All this for ¥20,000? ‘Fuck me’ was all he could think right now. Then the last step. Mondo held the little remote controlled vibrating butt plug in his hand and just stared at it for a few minutes before inserting it. He didn’t turn on it yet, and he was nervous as shit to do it too.

Mondo slowly and carefully walked out of the bathroom to the main room where everyone was waiting for him. He was already getting hard, and knew that whatever the fuck this was, was going to be a fucking nightmare. “Bro, everything… in place?” One of his gang members asked cautiously. The gagged Mondo just shook his head up and down quickly. “Perfect! So, you wanna get off in front of people without being put on a list?” His friend taunted. Mondo blushed, but luckily you couldn’t tell through the mask. “Well, I know you said you had some errands to run today, so why don’t we see if you can get through all those- but maybe without cumming,” he teazed. Mondo got wide eyed. So now, not only is he going to be horny as hell in public, but he’s not allowed to finish until the fucking errands are done? His face turned red and he tried to scream at his gang, forgetting about the gags, which just left him muffled and even more pissed off. Quickly Mondo got out a piece of paper and wrote:

“You’re fucking ON assholes.”

That’s exactly what they wanted to hear. “Perfect. Let’s get you on the back of a bike, because face it man, you can not drive with all that shit on ya,” the gang member chuckled. “I will be close behind watching though- so you better not cheat or try to lie, because trust me, I’ll fucking know. Oh and you’re giving me the key to that belt. It’s not coming off,”

With that, Mondo handed his gang member the key, then pulled himself onto the back of his bike, and the two of them rode off to the market place. As they pulled up to the big parking lot, the gang member cracked a small smirk, and got off the bike with Mondo. “All right, go do your shopping or whatever the fuck you gotta do man. I’ll keep my distance, but I’m watching you.” He said as he headed off into the crowd of people, leaving Mondo there alone. With a deep breathe in, and reaching into his coat pocket, he pressed the button to the remote control that little plug he had shoved up his ass. He set it to a low setting for now, and walked up to the first shop he had to go to. He took a deep breath and walked through the supermarket doors.

Mondo was walking through the fruits and vegetables section of the store, with his cock as hard as ever. Another man needed to grab something on the shelf right in front of Mondo, so he moved over to allow the man some space- and when he did his vibrator shifted just a little and he accidentally slipped. “Mmmh” he hummed lightly, quickly trying to turn it into a cough so the man next to him didn’t suspect anything. But Mondo loved the way he just felt. He reached his hand into his pocket and put the vibrator on a medium pulsating setting, that made him even hornier than before, if that’s even possible.

“Hnnnnnnngh” Mondo moaned lowly. He wanted to scream, his body felt amazing. He caught a woman shoot a side eye at him but she turned away and went about her business. Mondo tried his absolute best to compose himself, straightened up the best he could, and walked into the aisle he had come to the store for.

‘I just need 3- oh my fucking god” Mondo thought to himself. He quickly hunched over and grabbed onto the nearest shelf to catch his breath and control himself. He wanted to touch himself so badly, but with the belt that wasn’t even possible. “Hmm..” Mondo moaned out a few times. “hmmmf…” He already wants to turn the vibrator up to max speed, but he knows he’ll be a cryong mess if he does that. He only has one more thing to do once he’s done with the store, he can last till then, he thinks. He slowly makes his way through the aisle, grabs the three items he needed for his apartment, and tries to go pay. But god the line is long today. He has no choice but stand there and wait. Every time the line moved a little and he was forced to take a small step forward, his vibrator hit him in just the right spot to make him a god damn mess. ”nmmm… fuh..” he started to moan out in the still long line. He knew nobody could hear him, or cared but he was so embarrassed. The line moved once again, and this time his vibrator hit his prostrate in the exact right spot. A few tears formed at the corner of Mondo’s eye as he actively restrained himself from moaning out in pleasure.

Finally it’s his turn to check out and pay. He reaches into his jackets pocket to grab his wallet, but when he does, he bumps the button on the remote. “Haaaaahh…”Mondo hisses loudly as he arches his back a little. He took a few deep breaths, then pretended to finish a pretty unbelievable sneeze and proceeded to pay. The moment the cashier gave Mondo his change, he grabbed his stuff and ran to the nearest public restroom. He swiftly locked the door behind him and gripped onto the side of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He tried to palm himself through his pants, but the metal belt covering his fully erect dick gave him absolutely no direct contact with his throbbing cock. He starts whimpering loudly- but it’s not too loud thanks to his gag and mask. “Mmmmmh,” “hmmm hoh my god ffff-“ he barely muttered out. Mondo wanted to scream, or cry, or just touch himself once, so desperately. He felt like he was close to cumming from the vibrator alone. “Hnnnng” he cried out.

Mondo decides to try and stand up so he could leave the bathroom as quickly as he can, and find his way back to the bike. His gang member wasn’t too far behind him, so when they were both at the bike a few moments later, and Mondo hopped on without so much as saying a word, the gang member knew what was going on. He got in the front and took Mondo straight to the garage and tossed the key to him. “Ffnk you” Mondo muttered quickly as he ran to the bathroom he immediately ripped the mask and duct tape off of his mouth and moaned out loudly. “Holy fuccccckkkkk mmmmhhh…” He didn’t care that some of his friends were just a few rooms away and might be able to hear him. He just knew he felt so good and couldn’t help himself. Next was obviously the belt restricting him from touching himself. With a shaky hand, he unlocked it as fast as he was able too- which admittedly took about 3 minutes because of the constant pleasure he was feeling. Once the belt was off, Mondo immediately wrapped his hand around his now swollen, throbbing cock. “FUCK!” He shouted out in pure ecstasy and bliss. He was nothing but a mess of whimpers, cries, and moans in that moment. He knew he wasn’t going to last very long, so he quickly removed the vibrator, and fell to the floor. Mondo pumped his length a couple of times before he felt his orgasm quickly approaching. With one more stroke, he screamed out in pleasure “FUCK ME” and threw his head back as the white liquid oozed out of him, coating his hands, stomach, and thighs. He kept pumping himself slowly as more cum came out of him. “Mm…” he whimpered softly as the last of it came out. With shaky legs, Mondo pulled himself up off the floor, cleaned himself to the best of his ability, put all his clothes back on, and walked (even though it was more like a limp) back into the main area of the garage.

Without saying a word, or making eye contact with anybody, Mondo grabbed ¥20,000 and placed it in his buddy’s hand. He immediately walked out of the garage, barely got on his bike, and went home, thinking about not only just how fucked up his gang is, but how goddamn fun today was for him.

‘Maybe if I ever meet a chick we can do this shit together…’ Mondo thought to himself with a smirk.

#danganronpa smut #trigger happy havoc smut #not sfw danganronpa #danganronpa not sfw #mondo owada smut #owada mondo smut #dirty fan fic #danganronpa lemon #mondo owada lemon #lemon fic #lemon danganronpa #owada mondo #mondo owada

93 notes · View notes

talesofarcadia78 · 4 years ago

Text

Sorceress of Arcadia || Gnome Your Enemy

Summary: Y/n Lake is Jim Lake's older sister. She discovers that she is sorceress and her brother is the Trollhunter. She and the Trollhunters go on adventures together, they save trolls and humans. Along the way, a friend becomes more than just a friend and discovers their secrets.

Warning: None

Word count: 5,784

Tags: @lunariasilver

Previous >> Wherefore Art Thou, Trollhunter? • Next >> Waka Chaka!

“For centuries, the troll and human worlds stood seperate and at peace, divided by bridges that acted as doorways between our two realms. But the Gumm-Gumms wanted to devour all of mankind. They were led by Gunmar ‘the Black’. The rest of trollkind fought against him, culminating in the great Battle of Killahead Bridge, the portal to Gunmar’s Darklands. After many moons, good triumphed over evil, and our great Trollhunter, Deya ‘the Deliverer’, lock Gunmar away, exiling him to the Darklands, and sealed the Killahead Bridge with the sacred amulet. After, we tore it apart, stone by stone. We left the old world in search for peace. We stowed away on a ship called the Mayflower, just a handful of us and some gnomes we’d brought along for companionship and nourishment. Finally, we arrived in a strange and exotic realm,” Blinky explained.

“New Jersey,”Aaarrrgghh commented.

“We kept walking. Eventually, we came across a new Heartstone, and we realised we had found a new home… under Arcadia,” Blinky finished as you heard Jim snoring.

Blinky groaned and walked over to Jim. He slammed the book in front of his face.

Jim startled up, "¡Lo siento, Señor Draal! ¡No me mates!"

You had done Spanish in middle school, so you knew what he had just said.

"I'm sorry Mr. Draal! Please don't kill me!"

You giggled at his outburst. Jim glared at you quickly before he turned his attention to Blinky.

"The training of troll history might seem like a minor duty, Master Jim, but--" Bliny started to explain but was cut off by Jim.

"Sorry, I pulled an all-nighter studying for my Spanish Comprehension exam and my brain is muy gooey. I don't know. I guess I thought if I'm facing Draal in a week, my training would be a little more… active" Jim yawned, standing up.

"Yeah, like, when is he going to learn Troll-kwondo? Or Rock-itsu?" Toby inquired.

"Well, Jim has to learn why he fights, so it's kinda important to learn this," you explained.

"Miss y/n is correct. Before one fights, Toby D., one must understand why one fights. For these precious early steps will decide whether a young Trollhunter will become a Deya ‘the Deliverer’…" Blinky explained.

"Or Unkar ‘the Unfortunate’," Aaarrrgghh added.

"Well, tomorrow, my Spanish exam is with Señor Uhl ‘the Unforgiving’. My main concern is for my immediate future," Jim informed Blinky.

"A-ha! But, to learn what will happen in the future, one must only look to the past," Blinky explained.

"Ugh!"

"I recommend A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore by the venerable Bedehilde. Volume one of 47," Blinky recommended.

"Wow, that's a big book," you commented as Blinky gave Jim the book.

Due to the book being so big, Jim struggled to hold it. He eventually got a good hold of the book. Jim placed his Spanish textbook on top of the other book.

"Okay, but if I don't pass the exam, I'm grounded and I can't be the Trollhunter. Sorry, Blinky, but the amulet chose me, and now I have two lives to keep up," Jim explained.

Then, Bagdwella came running in stopping in front of you, panting.

"Are you okay Bagdwella?" you asked, putting your hand on her shoulder.

She shook your hand off, not wanting your comfort.

"Oh, no. Is it the Heartstone?" Blinky panicked.

"No! No!" Bagdwella denied.

"Stalkling?" Aaarrrgghh asked.

"Is Gunmar out?" you also asked.

Jim gave you a look that said 'Who's Gunmar?". You just rolled your eyes in response. He really should've been paying attention to Blinky's lecture.

"Is Bular in Trollmarket?" Jim guessed.

"No! Gnome! Rogue gnome!" Bagdwella yelled, her voice echoing throughout the Forge.

The six of you walked to Bagdwella's shop to investigate what the matter was.

"Get your toasters here!" a random troll exclaimed.

"First, I couldn't find my monocle, then my collection of bed coils. Now something disappears every minute!" Bagdwella explained.

Suddenly, a gnome whizzes past, stealing an item and making Bagdwella fall over.

"Ah, yes. Gnome," Blinky said, lending his hand to Bagdwella, but she slaps his hand away and gets up herself.

"Oh, dirty little pests. Up to last week, the glue traps were working fine," Bagdwella said, showing you all a skeleton of a gnome.

Just before you could say something, the gnome snatches the skeleton, making everyone gasp.

"Fix it, Trollhunter!" she begged.

"Uh yeah, I'm really sorry about that. See you need a gnome-catcher, and I'm well, the Trollhunter, so--" Jim explained, but got cut off by Blinky.

"Oh no, Master Jim. The Trollhunter cannot refuse the call. And what better a call for you to train with than a pint-sized quarry?" he explained, coming up behind Jim.

"Blinky's right, Jim. This'll be a start to your Trollhunting. Plus, I think the task will be easy for you," you agreed.

You heard rapid footsteps around you, then a guitar play. You all try to look for where the sound was coming from. When you did, the gnome revealed itself. The gnome started to play his guitar once again and started to sing.

"He's trying to distract us! Hold tight to your valuables," Blinky warned.

"Well, I don't need to hold onto anything, I got nothing valuable," you chuckled.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"Seriously, I don't have anything valuable. Unless if you consider my a hundred year old phone 'valuable'," you retorted.

"Okay, maybe you don't have anything valuable," Jim agreed.

Then the two of you see Toby going up to the gnome.

"Why? He can't be that bad," Toby chucked, clapping.

Before you knew it, the gnome had taken Toby's belt.

"Oh, no! My belt!" Toby cried. Then he sighed, "At least he didn't take my Nougat Nummy."

"Uh, Tobes, I don't think you should--" you warned Toby, as he took out his favourite chocolate out of his pocket, only to be taken by the gnome.

Toby gasped, "We need to catch that gnome."

All of you tried to catch the gnome, but he was way to fast for you. One time, Jim had caught him, but somehow, it escaped from his grasp. Jim then realised that his amulet got thieved.

"Oh no!" Blinky cried.

Jim and you chased after the gnome until it went behind a wardrobe. Aaarrrgghh pushes the wardrobe aside to reveal a small hole, which the gnome was probably hiding in.

"Hole," Aaarrrgghh stated.

"Yes, it appears the plot quite literally deepens," Blinky said, looking into the hole.

Jim slides his hands through the hole opening, hoping that his amulet would come back to him.

"Come back, come back. Shouldn't the amulet be coming back to me right now?" Jim questioned.

"Dolefully, that rule only applies if you've rejected it. When thieved, it's another story. If you had read A Brief Recapitulation you would have known that," Blinky explained.

"Technically, Jim didn't even have time to read the book, since you know, we're right now doing some Trollhunting business," you pointed out.

Jim gave you a quick smile, before Bagdwella spoke up.

"Some Trollhunter you are. Jim ‘the Baby Handed’.”

You glared at Bagdwella, as she snatched a bag of food from Toby.

I'd like to see how good you are at being the Trollhunter.

You turned your gaze over to Jim and Blinky.

"Master Jim, press on. This is not the moniker you want," Blinky said.

"What else can I do? I can't fit in that hole," Jim shrugged.

"Hmm, currently," Blinky thought.

"Bad idea," Aaarrrgghh warned.

"What's a bad idea?" you asked, but no one answered the question.

"No Trollhunter has ever lost his amulet. We'll need time to procure the Furgolator," Blinky argued.

"Uh, the Furgolator?" Jim doubted.

"Uh, don't you worry about anything, Master Jim. tend to your studies. We'll watch over the hole. Tomorrow, you'll return refreshed to deal with this, uh... little problem," Blinky said, and the three of us headed to the surface.

Toby and Jim headed to Arcadia Oaks High, while you headed the opposite direction to Arcadia Oaks Academy.

Once you had gotten your books, Izzy and Rachael both ran up to you.

"Y/n! Guess what just happened!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Uhh, you won the state lottery?" you replied.

"Nope, way better," Rachael denied.

"What can be better then winning the state lottery?" you asked, getting a bit curious.

"I got into the state math comp!" Racheal squealed.

"Wow! That's great, Rachael. So, when are you going?" you asked.

"Tomorrow, that's why I was texting you the other day, I wanted to hang out with my two besties before I headed off to the competition," Rachael replied.

"Oh, sorry about that, I was... busy," you said.

"Well, are you free after school?" Izzy asked.

You thought about it, you didn't need to go to Trollmarket or have any other plans.

"Yeah, I'm free," you nodded.

"Great! We'll meet at Sam's at 4, then we'll go from there," Rachael said.

You nodded. Suddenly the bell rang, making you jump a little.

"See you guys at lunch," you called, as you ran to your first class.

As you took a seat, you noticed that everyone was focused on the board. You glanced at the board to see everyone's name with a bunch of classes next to them. You searched for your name and saw your classes. You had chemistry, biology, calculus, literature, geography and history as your subjects for the next semester. Then, you noticed a certain name that you had not been expecting to have the same classes as you, well except biology. Tyler. You heard someone sit down beside you.

"Hey, y/n," it spoke.

You turned to see none other than, Tyler.

"Hi, Tyler," you smiled.

"I guess we have almost the same classes. What a coincidence, right?" Tyler chuckled.

"Ha, yeah," you commented.

"Hey, wanna sit next to each other in classes, you know since you'll be the only person I know," Tyler requested.

You hesitated. You didn't know Tyler that well, and seeing his anger the other day in the cafeteria, you weren't so sure.

Then you were saved by the bell.

"I'll see you in class Tyler, and I'll think about it," you said, rushing out of class.

You headed towards the lower office, since you needed your new timetable. As you were walking to the lower office you bumped into a certain emo-boy.

"Sorry," the two of you apologised.

You looked up at the person, to see Douxie.

"Oh, hey, Douxie!" you smiled.

"Hey, y/n! Going to get your new timetable?" Douxie asked.

"Yep," you responded.

The two of you got your new timetable. The two of you looked at each other's timetable, wondering if you had any classes with each other.

"Hey, we have mostly the same class, except instead of geography, I have economics," Douxie pointed out.

"Cool!" you said.

"Wanna head to class together?" he asked

You nodded and the two of you headed to class.

When you entered the classroom, you noticed two seats at the back of classroom weren't occupied so you nudged Douxie. Once you had gotten his attention, you pointed to the seat and headed there.

Once the two of you had taken a seat, you saw Tyler walking in. You groaned.

"You okay, love?" Douxie asked.

"Tyler wants me to it next to him in every class. It's a coincidence that he has all the same classes as me," you explained.

"Ahh. Understood. You can sit with me in every class then, well, except for geography of course. You'll have to deal with him then, but other than that, you can always sit with me," Douxie offered.

"Thank you," you grinned.

Soon after, Tyler started looking around the room. When his eyes fell on you, you were in a deep conversation with Douxie.

"Wait, so your actual name is Hisirdoux?" you asked.

"Yeah, I have no idea why, but it's my name!" Douxie nodded.

"It sounds very 12th century," you commented.

"I know right!" Douxie exclaimed.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Tyler fuming at Douxie.

Huh? Why does he look mad at Douxie?

You thought he was going to come up to Douxie and start arguing with him, but instead he took a seat at the front of the class, right in front of the teacher's desk.

After a few minutes, your class started.

You had a hard time figuring out what the teacher was saying, since she had a very quite voice, luckily, she was only a substitute. The actual teacher was just away on leave because he was sick.

After an hour, the bell rang to indicate next class, which was calculus, great. You sucked at calculus and science. You and Douxie headed together to calculus, avoiding Tyler.

The next two lessons kinda sucked, they all just introduced your new teacher's and what you're going to be learning for the next semester. Luckily for history, you had an assignment not an exam.

Soon, the bell rang for lunch.

While, you and Douxie were walking to the cafeteria, you were suddenly surrounded by all of Douxie's friends. Well, band mates.

"Hey, Douxie! How'd all your new classes go so far?" Henry asked.

"They went good. I found a friend that's doing the same classes as me," Douxie replied, gesturing towards you.

"Hey," you shyly waved.

"Wait, you're the girl that Douxie brought back stage at our last concert, right? Y/n, was it?" Jason recognised.

"Yep, that's me," you confirmed.

"Well, we're going over to the band room to practice, wanna come?" Jason asked both of you.

"Sure, why not. I'll just grab some food," Douxie replied. "Y/n, I'll grab you some food as well, you head over to the band room with the other's."

"Oh, no. I don't want to disturb you guys with your practice, I'll find my other friends," you denied.

"You're not going to disturb us, in fact, you can give us some feedback!" Jack said.

"But, I promised my friends that I'll sit with them today," you mentioned.

"What about, you and Douxie find your friends, and bring them to the band room? We really need someone else's point of view of our music," Jason suggested.

You thought about it for a moment.

Izzy wanted to meet the Ash Dispersal Pattern for a while now, and Rachael, well, she can make some new friends, since she doesn't really hang out with anyone else other than you and Izzy.

"Okay," you agreed.

"Great!" Jason exclaimed, walking away with the rest of the band.

You and Douxie saw your two best friends in the line to get food.

"Yo y/n! Where were you?" Izzy asked as she saw you going up to them.

"Just talking with Douxie's band. Want to go meet them? They're in the band room. They said that you guys can come," you offered.

"Oh, you had me at 'Douxie's band'," Izzy grinned.

"Just let us grab some food first, "Douxie said, walking into line, pulling you along.

After grabbing some food, you all walked over to the band room, getting welcomed by a lot of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Douxie asked, grabbing a seat for you and your friends before grabbing one for himself.

"Nothing, it's an inside joke. You won't understand," Henry said.

"Okay..." Douxie nodded, getting a bit suspicious, sitting down. "Anyways, meet Rachael and Izzy."

Rachael shyly waved, while on the other hand, Izzy waved very energetically. You instantly saw Jason blush when Rachael waved at him while she also blushed.

Who knew, Rachael had charm. She's usually not the type to get involved with the boys and crushes that much.

"Looks like we have a fan," Jack pointed out, looking at Izzy energetically waving at them.

"I'm your biggest fan! I go to every single one of your concerts!" Izzy beamed. "Well, I couldn't make it to your concert last week. But other than that, I've been to every single one!"

You, Rachael and the entire band laughed at her enthusiasm.

After getting introduced to one another and getting autograph from every single ban member, they started to practice.

"Wow, Jason is good," Rachael commented.

"Of course you'd say that. You have a crush on him," you teased.

"I do not!" she retorted.

"Sure," you and Izzy smirked.

After about 10 minutes, you heard the door open. You glanced towards the door to see Tyler.

"Hey guys!" Tyler waved.

"Hey, Tyler! Wanna practice?" Jack said.

"Jack, I don't see any of our guitarists away right now. There's no point," Douxie claimed.

"Well, Douxie, I see you're getting a bit tired of playing. Tyler can fill you in while you rest," Jack said.

"I'm not tired," Douxie stated.

"Uh, Doux, not to be rude, but you're kinda missing some chords and not keeping up with the beat," Henry commented.

"What?! I'm not missing any chords! You guys are just going faster than you're meant to!" Douxie exclaimed.

"And you're getting a bit short tempered," Henry added under his breath, but you all heard it.

"I am not getting short tempered!" Douxie fumed.

"Yeah, dude, take a pill and chill. Y/n, can you take Douxie for some fresh air?"Jason requested, snatching the guitar off of Douxie and handing it to Tyler.

"Sure," you nodded, lightly pushing Douxie out the room.

As you closed the door, Douxie started walking down the hallway. You ran up to him and made him slow down.

"Douxie, are you okay?" you asked.

"I'm fine. Those guys over there are just going faster," Douxie grumbled.

"They're not, Doux. You just need to take a break," you advised.

"I don't need to take a break, they need to take a break," Douxie scoffed.

"Doux, this is not you. This is not the person I have met and befriended with," you said.

"Well, this is me! Get used to it!" Douxie yelled, stopping in his tracks.

Your eyes widened at the tone of his voice, making you step back away from him.

Douxie's eyes widened at what he just said to you.

"I-I'm sorry y/n, I didn't mean that at all. I've just been so stressed out lately. I just exploded," he apologised.

You smiled at him, putting your hand on his shoulder, "It's okay. Everyone has those days. You know you can talk to me about it you know?"

"Thank you, y/n. It means a lot," Douxie smiled.

"We should probably head back," you reminded.

"Yeah," he agreed.

The two of you headed back into the band room, getting greeted to everyone just chilling.

"Hey, y/n, Douxie," everyone said.

You noticed that Tyler had left.

"Is Douxie...?" Jack questioned.

You nodded and took a seat next to Izzy.

"What happened to band practice?" Douxie asked.

"Stopped a few minutes ago. We were discussing on hanging out this afternoon," Izzy informed. "Y/n's already coming, what about you Hisirdoux?"

"I'm free. And how do you know my actual name?" he inquired.

"Your mates here told us," Izzy explained.

"We're meeting at Sam's at 4," Henry told Douxie.

Soon after, the bell rang for class.

After three hours, you headed to your bike and peddled home.

You finished up some chores and waved goodbye to your brother and headed off to Sam's.

Once you met with the others, you all headed over to Lucia to watch Danger House 2: More House, More Danger. You were going to sit with Izzy and Rachael but there were seat numbers, so you didn't have much of a choice. You ended up sitting at the end of the row next to Douxie. The two of you shared popcorn while watching the movie. At times, you didn't want to see a scene, so you hid your face in Douxie's shoulder. While you weren't looking, the others snuck some photos of you two, especially when you hid you face in his shoulder.

After the movie, all of you headed across town to The Bluff to watch the sunset. Everyone hated the bike ride up the steep hill, but surprisingly, you didn't. It was kinda easy for you.

Must be the advantage of running from danger.

In the end, the ride up the hill was worth it, since you all got to see a beautiful sunset afterwards. As everyone was enjoying the sunset, taking pictures and goofing around, you saw Douxie leaning against a rock, staring at his phone. You strolled over to him and leaned against the rock with him.

"You know, you can't enjoy the sunset without, y'know, looking at it," you told him.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I know. I'm just looking at something," he mumbled, not taking his eyes of his phone.

You peeked over his shoulder to see what exactly he was looking at.

He was looking at his email, more specifically, emails about bills. The numbers weren't huge, but if you're Douxie that worked 2 jobs and hardly got tipped, that would be a lot.

"You worried about the bills?" you whispered, making sure no one heard.

He nodded. "I don't know how I'm going to pay all this. Thankfully, I requested the companies to give me more time to pay them. I got a few extra months, but I don't think that'll be enough."

You nodded, trying to think a way you could help your blue-tipped friend.

"Do you have any extra rooms in your apartment?" you asked.

"No, but I do have a lot of space in the bedroom. I’ve got two double beds that have been lying around," he explained.

"What if you get a roomie? Like they would give you rent every week, while you provide them shelter, food, etc.," you suggested.

"That's a great idea!" he beamed. "Thanks! I'll start to work on your plan tomorrow!"

"I'll come to help," you offered.

"Oh no. I don't want you putting time aside for me," he denied.

"I'm not, I have a lot of free time. And even if I did, it would be worth it. Helping a friend is always worth my time," you said.

"Okay. I'll text you my address and tell you what time you can come over. Probably on the weekend, but I'll just text you," he explained.

You nodded.

"Now, let's enjoy the view."

After the sun had set, you all rode over to Stuart's Taco Truck. Jason, Jack, and Rachael all went to get the burritos, while Douxie, Izzy and you chatted, waiting for your friends.

"So, y/n, have you been thinking about what you'll be doing after graduation?" Izzy asked.

"Uh, I don’t know. Maybe go to college, like every person does?" you guessed.

"Wow, I'm just gonna get a job and do that, it's just easier," Izzy said.

"Yeah. You never wanted to go to college," you agreed.

"What are you going to do, Douxie?" Izzy asked, turning her focus onto him.

"Well, I'll probably pursue my dreams of being a guitarist while having a job," Douxie replied.

"That's cool," Izzy commented.

Soon after, your burritos arrived and all of you dug in.

Once you had finished your burrito, you checked your watch to see it was starting to get late.

"Okay guys, I'm going to head back, it's getting late. I'll see you all tomorrow," you declared.

"Wait, y/n, I'll come with!" Douxie added.

You waited for Douxie to throw his rubbish in the trash and peddled your way home with him.

Before the two of you went your separate ways, Douxie thanked you for your suggestion.

"Thanks for your suggestion before, y/n."

"It's no problem."

"Well, I'll see you soon, love," he grinned, giving you a flirtatious wink along with a two-finger salute.

You blushed and returned the two-finger salute, riding your separate ways.

Once you got home, you saw Jim was finishing up washing the dishes.

"Hey, Jimbo!" you sang.

"Hey, y/n!" Jim called. "How was your hang out?"

"Good, but I'm beat. I'm heading to bed. ‘Night," you yawned and trudged to your room.

"‘Night," Jim called.

The next day after school, you, Jim and Toby headed down to Trollmarket. You were glad to take a break from everyone. Today was just not your day. Everyone from the hangout had uploaded to social media of the photos of you hiding your face in Douxie's shoulder and the both of you sharing popcorn. The post made you attract the crowd at lunch. People bombarded you with questions related to Douxie. Most of them consisted of 'Are you two together?', 'Are you a couple?' and 'How long has it been?' Luckily, Douxie came in time and saved you from the crowd, again.

You approached Blinky, Aaarrrgghh and something covered with a piece of cloth.

"Remember when I told you all Trollhunters must start small?" Blinky asks, revealing the Furgolator.

"Full disclosure, I'm a little worried how I let you talk me into this," Jim doubted.

"A 'little worried'? I'm full on concerned!" you gulped.

Blinky turns on the Furgolator, making the doors open up.

"Still bad idea," Aaarrrgghh warned.

Jim steps inside and the doors start to close, "Wait a minute. So, how does me going into this thing help me get a gnome out of a hole?"

"If a gnome won't come out, the Trollhunter must go in," Blinky informed.

"Wait, what?" Jim questioned.

"I think Blinky plans to make you small enough to fit inside that hole," you hypothesised.

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed.

"Exactly! We often use the Furgolator to compress minerals. And now for the anthracite!" Blinky agreed.

"See?" you teased.

Jim rolled his eyes playfully, but you saw the fear in his eyes.

"But you've done this a few times on flesh and bone, right? Right?" Jim yelped.

Blinky placed the rock inside a compartment, "Not exactly." Then the machine started up, "But I'm not concerned."

"Well, that's because you are not the one trapped in this thing," Jim complained.

"Nothing to worry about, Master Jim. We work best under pressure," Blinky shouts.

"I can't see anything!" Jim coughs. "Why is there so much smoke?"

The machine started to make weird sounds. You and Toby ran to the Furgolator, trying to get it open.

"Come on, you guys gotta get him out of there!" Toby cried.

Blinky rushed over to help us, "Don't just stand there, Aaarrrgghh!"

Aaarrrgghh comes over and pulls the doors open.

"Looks like it didn't work. Hope you have a plan B," Jim began, but then realised he had shrunk.

"On the contrary," Blinky said.

"You sure we need a plan B? I think plan A worked fine," you chuckled.

"He's like an action figure!" Toby gushed.

"The Furgolator functioned perfectly!" Blinky laughed.

He picked up tiny Jim, holding him in his palm. Jim looks at his tiny figure. You quickly took out your phone and took a photo of your little brother. Jim groaned, not liking you taking photos of himself.

You all made your way to the hole that the gnome had escaped into. Blinky placed Jim just outside of the hole.

"Real subtle. ‘We've got to start small. Deal with the little problem.’ This is a huge problem! I can't be shrunk! I have exams to take! I have sinks to reach!" Jim raged.

"You have a gnome to catch. Now, onward, Master Jim, and fetch your destiny!' Blinky reminded.

Toby grabs a pencil and hands it Jim to use as a sword, "Your sword, my liege."

Jim pokes the pencil on Toby's palm, earning a yelp from him. He attempts to walk into the hole, but he falls down, earning a giggle from you. But he eventually got into the hole.

"Oh, and one last thing to know when dealing with a gnome, Master Jim, and this is of dire importance: Do not touch its hat!" Blinky forewarned.

"Of course. It's right there in A Brief Recapitulation," Jim taunted.

"You remember!"

"Of course not! Nothing in this world makes sense!" Jim yelled.

You backed away from the hole to see Vendel walk pass.

"Miss y/n, you should go and continue your training with Vendel. We will handle things here," Blinky advised.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Completely."

You nodded and jogged over to Vendel.

"Hello, Master Vendel. Do you have time to teach me how to make objects move?" you inquired.

"Hello, Miss Lake. I am not known to any troll as 'Master', but it sounds good coming from you. And yes, I can instruct you how to make objects move," Vendel said.

The two of you walked over to the Heartstone and began your lesson.

Soon after, you could move objects easily, with just a quick gesture of your hand or finger.

"Thank you, Master Vendel!" you beamed.

"Your welcome. Next time you come, with some spare time, I will teach you something new," Vendel replied.

You nodded and jogged back over to the hole to see Toby backing away from the hole.

"Why hasn't he come out?" Toby asked, his voice full of worry.

"What happened?" you asked.

Aaarrrgghh explained to you what happened to your brother.

You all waited for Jim to come out safe and sound. You then saw the gnome walking out with Jim following behind him, wearing the gnome's hat.

'You summoned the armour and caught the gnome! Well played, Master Jim!" Blinky beamed.

You all clapped at his heroism.

"Thank you, thank you. I don't want to forget the little people," Jim smiled.

"Expedient and-" Blinky started.

"And good humoured," you finished.

"Oh my hero!" Bagdwella praised.

Toby captures the gnome into a bag and sets aside.

"And what about this shrinking stuff? When does it wear off?" Jim asked.

"Don't worry. Sleep it off. By morning, you'll be as good as new. And how you have earned it! Jim "the Gnome Slayer!" Blinky reassured.

"He was so young. There was so much music left in him," Toby commented, playing the little guitar.

You ignored him.

"All that is left is for you to take care of it," Blinky instructed.

"Wait, what? Take care of it?" Jim puzzled.

"Rule number two," Aaarrrgghh reminded.

"‘Always finish the fight’," Blinky quoted.

"And by finish... " you began.

"Deaden. End. Le coup de grâce," Blinky finished.

Aaarrrgghh moved his thumb across his throat, indicating to kill the poor gnome.

You and Jim shared worried glances. Neither of you were killers, but you had to follow the rules. But, it was up to Jim, since he was the Trollhunter.

You headed home, while Jim stayed at Toby's house.

As you opened the door, you saw your mom unpacking food.

"Hey, Mom. What are you doing?" you asked.

"Just unpacking the food I got. As you already know, I'm not a good cook, so I thought some takeaway would be good," she explained.

Soon, the two of you sat down and dug into your food.

"Y/n, where's Jim?" your mom asked.

"He's staying at Toby's place," you answered.

"Well, since he's not here, want to have some girl time?" she asked.

"I'd love to," you replied.

Once you two had finished dinner, the two of you sat down and binged watch watched Mistrial & Error together.

After a dozen or so episodes, the two of you started to play truth or dare.

"Okay, y/n… Truth or dare?" Mom asked.

"Truth," you answered.

"Hmm... so, that friend of yours, Douxie. Is he just a friend or...?" Mom questioned.

"Douxie?! He's... uh... um..." you stammered.

"And my question is answered," Mom cheered.

"What?! He's not. Uhh..." you cried.

From that, you and your Mom started to talk about your love life, more specifically, Douxie.

"I saw on one of your friends posts that you were hiding behind him during your little movie night," she said.

"It was a scary movie! Some scenes were just absolutely terrifying, so of course I’d hide behind him. That's normal," you defended.

"You could've just shut your eyes," she suggested.

"Um... well... uh..." you stuttered.

"I guess my suspicions are true," she smirked.

"Mom!" you cried.

"Okay, okay. We'll have this conversation another day. I'm tired, so I'm heading to bed, kiddo," she said, getting up from the couch.

"Me too. I need to go to school," you agreed, following suit.

Next morning, you woke up to the sound of clattering downstairs. You got up and got dressed into a t-shirt, pair of jeans and sneakers and rushed downstairs to see what the commotion was about. You found the source of the commotion, your mom.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Nothing for you to worry about, kiddo," she said.

You shrugged and realised that there was nothing for you to eat for breakfast.

"Sorry, y/n. No breakfast. Maybe grab something in town," she suggested.

"Will do. I'll head out, love you!" you called and rushed out your door, hastily grabbing your bag on your way out.

You made your way to Toby's house, checking on Jim. You knocked on the Domzalski's door. It opened to reveal Toby.

"Hey, Tobes!" you grinned.

"Hey, y/n! Checking in on Jim?" he guessed.

You nodded and you followed him to his room. On the way, Toby's Nana forced you to eat a blueberry muffin.

As soon as you entered his room, you noticed Jim's absence. But then you realised he was in a doll house.

Toby opened the doll house to reveal a startled Jim.

"What's wrong, Tiny Jim? Did you not sleep well in Nana's dollhouse?" Toby asked.

"Why am I still small, guys?" Jim whined.

"Maybe the stuff works different on trolls than it does on humans?" you theorised.

"Oh, my gosh. The gnome! You did it? I told you I was supposed to-- Oh no! School!" Jim panicked.

"We have to call you in sick. Tell them you ate too much chocolate. That always works," Toby ordered, shoving his phone into Jim's little face.

"No, Señor Uhl can sniff out a lie a mile away," Jim refused. He thought for a second when his eyes lit up. "That's it! Toby, I need you to do me a huge favour. Well, maybe a small one. But huge."

You gave him confused look.

"Look, I have a plan, just trust me on this," Jim explained. "Plus, you should be heading to school right now."

"Fine, but I want you to be normal size by the end of the day. I can't take you home like this," you said, gesturing to his size.

"Okay. Now, go!" Jim said.

You rode off to school, hoping your brother would return to his normal size.

#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #toa #toa douxie #tales of arcadia #trollhunters

77 notes · View notes