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snackhobi · 4 years

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a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

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

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

then he turns up at your door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No human could ever look this good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After you, please,” he says.

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

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

“Not as pretty as you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's just depressing, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Purple.”

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

You think it suits him better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Of course, you never do.)

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

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

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

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

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

You promptly roll off the sofa.

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

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

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

Ah.

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

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

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

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

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

V looks utterly enraptured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go for it,” you say.

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

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

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

Just for an instant.

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

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

But then V laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

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

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

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

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

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

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

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

“Morning,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Thank God.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

So you do.)

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

“Morning.”

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

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

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

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

It’s… nice.

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

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

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thealexchen · 3 years

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Any cute after ending bird squad headcanons (chenrich / stay)?

OH MY GOD I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. I missed writing headcanons so much! I’m gonna take Gabe’s entire prediction as what really happened: Alex starts working in the record store with Steph, they still perform together, and Alex hangs out regularly with Ryan, Ethan, Charlotte, and Riley.

After a lucky dice roll a few weeks after the events of chapter 5, Steph blurts out the “Will you be my girlfriend?” question during a DnD game. Alex is momentarily stunned because it really was an impulsive question and Steph hadn’t even been thinking about it beforehand, so Alex never picked up on an aura. Then a slow grin creeps across Alex's face as she says, “Wait… did you wait until you rolled a nat-20 to ask that?” Steph giggles, “Maybe?” Alex smiles and says “of course I will, dork,” leans across the table, and kisses her. Steph’s joy aura is so bright that Alex suddenly bursts out laughing and can barely get out, “And you’re such a nerd!” before she buries her face in her hands.

Ryan is thrilled for Alex and just envelops her in a bone-crushing hug when Alex tells him. They remain good friends and Alex nicknames him “golden boy” after their joyful moment at the ravine :) Now that Alex and Steph are splitting their hours at the record store, Alex usually takes the earlier morning shifts and then goes on hikes with Ryan. He takes her to the spots he used to take Gabe and they reminisce together. Sometimes they laugh, other times they cry, but Alex is always grateful for his company.

After Steph and Alex start dating, Ryan gets in this weird habit of calling the other two “ladies.” Since Steph and Alex are together so often, he just starts addressing them as a couple: “Morning, ladies!” “How’s the weather, ladies?” “I’ll leave you to it then, ladies.” “You ladies totally killed that set last night!" But then he still calls Steph “dude” so she’s just more confused than ever.

The closest thing to an argument that Steph and Alex have is Alex's proposed “renovations” to the record store, which include… a CD rack of various animal calls and a magazine rack with subscriptions to National Geographic. Alex tries to convince Steph, “Now that we’re both working here, Ryan practically spends all his waking hours here anyway. Come on, you gotta think like a businesswoman!” Steph grumbles, “I’d rather think like a DJ.”

Alex and Steph have 30 jam-packed events for every day of Pride Month. On June 1st, their broadcast goes in and out because Steph and Alex are both trying to hog the microphone, announcing “Happy Pride Month from Haven’s hottest—“ “most musical—“ “greatest couple! With the best music taste!”

On ace pride day (yes I love the ace Ryan headcanon), Alex triumphantly drapes an ace pride cape over Ryan's shoulders and announces, "And now for some asexual awareness facts from our favorite birdwatcher!" Steph expects Ryan to be nervous at the mic, but he has shockingly good control of his voice. She later says "I never thought I'd say this but... you really have a voice for radio. Color me impressed."

Ryan buys a friendship necklace from Claire’s for Alex’s birthday in July as a total joke (@secrettunnelyeah's idea) but Steph texts in the group chat later that night “HOLY SHIT IT GLOWS IN THE DARK!!” followed by Alex adding “IT DOES INDEED” and Ryan just asks “Are you both five?” Alex and Steph badger Ryan with “but it glows in the DARK” for the next week just to mess with him. After that, it becomes an inside joke— every time Ryan complains about something, literally anything, (“I’d like to go, but it’s so far away” or “It’s like 90 degrees today!”) Steph and Alex reply, “But iT GLOWS IN THE DARK RYAN!"even if it makes no sense.

Alex is much better at controlling her empathy powers, but being around Steph for 6-8 hours a day means that her emotional thoughts run in a loop in Alex’s head almost like an unending radio broadcast. One time, she’s writing down inventory and accidentally catches herself writing “my girlfriend is so beautiful” because that’s what she was hearing in her head, and she laughs. But it’s worse on air: another time, she’s reading an ad when she says, “Spamp’s is having their end of summer sale on… man, Alex looks so good in that shirt today— oh my God. That wasn’t... what I meant to say… um… we’ll be right back!” She turns off the mic, storms out of the booth, and bursts out in exasperation, “STEPH! Oh my God. I love you, but you need to stop staring at me when I read ads!” Steph just stammers, “You love me?” Alex realizes that was the first time she's said it out loud. She crumples into relieved, confused laughter and walks over to give Steph a hug and kiss her forehead. Alex sighs, “Yeah, I do. I love you. But like, please stop having such loud thoughts."

The whole goose prank story becomes an inside joke for Alex and Ryan. It starts out with Ryan saying “Remember that time…” but the joke deteriorates so much that all Ryan has to do is whisper “property of the crown” to Alex and then she’s on the floor laughing. The best part is, they never explain the joke to Steph, so she’s just bewildered as to why that random phrase makes her girlfriend cry-laugh every time.

Halloween is still a difficult time of year for Steph and Alex can tell, so she, Ryan, and Ethan organize a town-wide, epic sequel to the LARP. This time, Steph the witch is the protagonist on a quest to save her kidnapped bard, except the end reveals it wasn’t a kidnapping at all but a surprise role-play wedding. When Steph “frees” Alex, Alex swoons dramatically “MY HERO!” and kisses Steph in front of everyone. Steph pulls Alex into a hug and whispers, “Thank you. This is exactly what I needed.” Steph holds her close and realizes that for the first time in years, she hadn’t fixated on Arcadia Bay at all.

Charlotte invites the bird gang plus Riley over for Thanksgiving. Ethan is so proud of himself because he made sweet potato casserole for the first time all by himself. He insists that everyone go around and list what they’re thankful for. Alex just sighs happily and says, “This is gonna sound so cheesy but… everything. A year ago, I couldn’t even imagine I’d be here, surrounded by such great company and such good food.” She feels everyone’s joyful auras throughout the entire meal and can’t stop smiling.

On New Year’s Eve, Steph claims she has a cold and can’t run the radio show. Alex knows she’s bullshitting, but she plays along and takes calls by herself that night until someone slides a letter under the door. It’s from Steph, Charlotte, and Ryan with a scavenger hunt for her. After finding all the clues, Alex learns that they got a bar stool engraved with her name in The Black Lantern (now under new ownership since Jed was arrested), along with a note from Steph to call her. She does and Steph says “So… I’m not actually sick. Meet me on the bridge?” Alex joins the other residents just in time for New Year’s fireworks. Ethan is cheering even before the countdown, but it’s otherwise quiet. Alex unwinds her scarf from around her neck and drapes it over her friends’ shoulders, pulling them close enough to whisper, “I’m so glad Gabe had you.” “And now you have us,” Ryan says softly. Just then, the countdown starts and then 2019 is over. Alex cheers her heart out as her first year in Haven comes to a close and the fireworks explode overhead until she’s lost her voice. She’s happy.

Bonus: Lunar New Year 2020 was on January 25th, 2020. The entire town teams up to throw an authentic celebration for Alex, because she hasn't gotten to properly celebrate in years. Charlotte helps put together a lion costume and Ethan gets so excited rehearsing for the lion dance. Eleanor makes red floral arrangements and hangs paper lanterns on every corner. Ryan and Steph work tirelessly all day to make as many traditional dishes as they can, based on what Gabe taught them, and they lead Alex on a guided tour down Main Street to show her everything they set up. The final event is New Year's dinner, and Alex starts happy crying because she hadn't realized how much she missed all of this. Most of all, she wishes Gabe could be here, but she knows he had many happy new year's with his friends before she arrived :)

Thank you so much for a headcanon ask! It’s been over 2 months since the last one and I’d loved to be inspired and write again now that we have all this content!

#happy thanksgiving! I'm thankful for all of you! <3 #lis headcanons #chenrich #listc #life is strange #life is strange true colors #alex chen #ryan lucan #steph gingrich #true colors #lis #lis:tc #lis: tc #true colours #lis true colours #life is strange: true colors #anon #answered asks #bird gang

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useyernamesteven · 3 years

Text

(Needed some goofy fluff to distract myself from the angst im writing so buckle up, its long. Based on that one post I cannot find so if anyone can help a homie out, much appreciated)

Raya/Namaari Accidental Marriage Proposal

Its not a far stretch to assume that the different tribes have different practices and rituals. And given the 500 year gap in communication its also easy enough to assume that the tribes don't know about each others differing customs.

For example: marriage proposals. In Tail its as cut-and-dry as asking. Talon people propose with rings and jade coin. When you propose in Spine you chop down a tree to show your commitment and strength.

The Fang propose with blades. Fang people love their knives, daggers, spears, and other pointy weapons, so if you want to ask someone to marry you, you do it with a blade.

I like to imagine it'd be because offering a blade to someone- who isn't family -is the equivalent of trusting your life to that person. I like to think the Fang value not only a person's strength and honour, but their ability to care and protect their people. So giving a blade to your chosen love is like saying, "I'm giving you this weapon because I trust you with my heart, literally and metaphorically".

But again, 500 year old divide means others have no clue what giving a knife to someone from Fang entails...

So maybe its been a few months or so after the Druun have been vanquished. Raya is still re-learning how to be a 'princess' while playing liaison between the tribes, with Sisu as her partner in crime. She likes it because she still gets to travel and she gets to see her new friends from the other tribes: Boun's business is booming, Noi has started talking, and Tong has become the new Chief of Spine.

Then there's Namaari.

Six years of playing cat-and-mouse together (or rather angry kitten and homeless puppy) can be hard to overcome. At first it was a struggle. And incredibly awkward. Namaari, too guilt ridden over what she'd done, and Raya, still angry and socially stunted, could barely hold a conversation together.

Eventually Raya, fed up with the weird awkward talk, dragged Namaari to Fang's training grounds and challenged her to a sparring match. And only when it was over, the both of them exhausted and laying on the ground, did they start talking, actually talking. About what happened with the gem, with Sisu, what they can't let go of, not yet, but what they hope they can move past one day.

It made things after easier because it was familiar ground for them, but it also opened up new paths too. Now in the months since they saved the world and having spent that time working together, Raya would like to consider Namaari a close friend.

Which is probably why she's so surprised when Namaari off-handedly mentions her birthday is next week. Namaari, who's less than thrilled about her mother's plans for a big celebration, doesn't even notice how much Raya's caught off guard. Namaari doesn't really care for her birthday, much less when her mother makes a big deal about it, but she still brushes her hair behind her ear when she asks Raya if she's going to attend.

Raya recovers, nudging Namaari saying that she's obviously going, and boasting about the amazing gift she's going to bring.

Which then leads to her dragging Sisu to Talon in search of the perfect gift (Sisu being the only 'person' she knows who can help being that she's a master gift giver... Sisu's words, not Raya's, but still). They run around Talon for ages, with Sisu practically buying everything in sight (with the Heart Palace Credit of course) but Raya can't find a single thing she thinks Namaari would actually like.

And then she spots a Fang vendor selling blades.

The woman is nice and she asks Raya if she's looking for something in particular. Raya says she wants to get a dagger for 'someone special' from Fang (not wanting to rack up the price if the woman knew who it was for, but also completely unaware to what she's just implied).

The vendor seems a little surprised but she easily walks Raya through picking out the perfect dagger for her 'someone special'. Raya ends up buying a pretty, yet functional dagger with a dragon engraved in the blade and an ornate box to keep it in. As Raya's leaving the woman gives her a pat on the shoulder and says, "All the best for the both of you and I'm sure she'll say yes," which Raya can't really make sense of so she shrugs and leaves to go find Sisu and her mountain of trinkets.

So now its the party, and when Namaari said Virana was making a big deal about it, she really meant it. People from all the tribes are attending and Sisu's brought her brothers and sisters and there's music and food and fireworks...

And Namaari stands beside her mother in a beautiful dress that makes Raya's heart thud erratically (it's totally platonic). Her and her Ba walk up to them and start making small talk before her Ba and Virana break off to chat with other dignitaries, leaving Raya and Namaari together.

Raya likes how Namaari relaxes around her when its just them, despite the room full of people. They talk and banter and tease and laugh, but more than anything Raya just likes being with Namaari. And when Namaari mentions how much she hates formal wear, how dresses don't suit her, Raya makes it a game to see how many times she can mention how beautiful Namaari looks while they're talking, just because it makes Namaari flush and do the hair thing she does when she's shy. No other heart-related reason.

Its not until much later when Raya suddenly remembers the gift she brought and she runs off to fetch it. When she returns she hands Namaari the sleek box with a smile and a sheepish "Happy Birthday dep'la".

And Namaari's blushing and smiling as she takes the box, telling Raya she didn't have to as she opens the box-

And immediately slams it shut. Her face turns bright red and she whorls on Raya with wide eyes and a panicked, hissed "whatareyoudoing?!" And poor Raya's totally thrown, so sure she'd picked out the perfect gift. "You don't like it?" But Namaari shoves the box back into her hands, with another frenzied whisper "thatsnotit!"

Well now Raya's a little miffed because "You didn't even look at it" and before Namaari can stop her she's pulling the dagger from the box and offering it back to Namaari.

Meanwhile the room goes incredibly quiet as everyone from Fang suddenly notices what's happening between the princesses. Virana nearly spits out her drink. Everyone else carries on like normal, but a few people watch their new Fang friends with curious looks, completely out of the loop.

So now Raya's essentially down on one knee without realizing it, Namaari's about to have a heart attack, everyone from Fang is on the edge of their seat, and the dragons are having a rousing drinking contest with people from Spine.

So the party is going great.

Raya (oblivious to the world save for Namaari) is giving Namaari her strongest puppy dog eyes because she'd spent so long looking for the perfect gift dep'la, and "You're pretty special Namaari, special to me, and you deserve it."

Namaari, as red faced as she is, softens at Raya's admission, smiling a little to herself before she takes the dagger from Raya with a soft "it's lovely dep'la".

And suddenly the room's loud again as people from Fang start clapping and whistling. Everyone else is lost but soon they join in as well, despite having no clue as to what they're cheering for. Namaari's back to being flustered and she grabs Raya's hand and hauls her toward Virana and Benja. Raya, finally taking in the room around them, is confused as to why people are congratulating her and Namaari.

Virana has recovered by the time the two approach and if no one knew better it might've also appeared she was trying hard not to smile. Namaari hisses something to her mother Raya doesn't hear, and she shoots her Ba a questioning look. Benja looks a little pensive but he's got a quirk in his lips that Raya knows means mischief.

Virana gently pats her daughter's shoulder before turning to address the room, excusing the four of them. They turn to leave but not before Virana calls out to the crowd, "And it goes without saying you're all invited to the wedding as well," and then ushers her horrified daughter, her baffled betrothed, and Benja out the door.

Instantly Namaari's in hysterics, asking her mother why she'd say that when Raya obviously didn't know what she was doing. Virana, quite obviously playing ignorance, asks why Namaari accepted the blade if she knew what she was doing. And poor Namaari can only gape, red faced and no come back.

Raya has finally caught on to what she's done and yeah, okay now it all makes sense. The vendor, Namaari's (gay) panic, the congratulations... she just proposed to Namaari. She just proposed to Namaari. In front of most of Kumandra. Oh toi!

Benja, still smirking to himself, ruffles Raya's hair before turning to Namaari and Virana and saying, "To be fair... Namaari did propose first."

Marriage proposals in Heart are an exchange of necklaces. So when Namaari had given Raya the Sisu pendant back when they were kids, they'd essentially gotten engaged and since Raya kept it, they've technically been engaged for the past six years.

(Too) Long story short, Raya and Namaari get engaged, get married, fall in love, and live sapphically ever after.

End.

(Okay, I'm done. Back to angst.)

#raya and the last dragon #ratld #rayaari #rayamaari #raya and namaari #oof i lost steam halfway through this #sorry its so terrible #i just didnt really feel like actually writing it out

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mcyt-imagines · 4 years

Text

TommyInnit Confession HCs

This is a combination of an imagine and some headcanons, this is a new way of writing for me so let me know if you enjoyed this format!

- Tommy realising he loves the reader and how he’d confess to them -

Tommy definitely would deny being interested in the reader in the beginning.

It would probably be a natural progression of feelings but tommy just wouldn’t realise it until WAY too late.

Like he just catches himself thinking about them when he’s just doing schoolwork and chores. And then he’s aware of just how much his mind wanders to them. Far too often in his humble opinion.

He lays hints about his crush when talking with Tubbo. He’s real defensive about it though. “You much of a ladies man Tubbo?” Trying to discretely get advice without actually asking for any. And Tubbo being Tubbo means he completely missed all the hints Tommy was dropping. (Not that Tommy’s hints were any good)

His stream for sure notices a change in his behavior, more scatterbrained showing visible signs of stress maybe a little more irritable too. Tubbo definitely notices the changes too and asks him about it.

Tubbo would probably ask tommy on stream or in private something along the lines of. “What’s up Tommy, you’ve been kinda uh, distracted lately…”

Tommy for suuuuuure blushes and stutters out a response that even Tubbo doesn’t buy. (So instead he talks to Tubbo about it off stream, doesn’t mention his crushes name, but he keeps Tubbo in the loop. Tubbo finds the whole thing very funny because of how defensive Tommy gets in response, however he offers his support to Tommy, obviously. “Even though I have no experience with romance Tommy. I’ll do my best to be the best wingman ever!” With a salute to Tommy on his webcam. Tubbo quickly leaves the call saying he needs to do some ‘research’ (he puts the word in quotation marks with a wink)

Tommy would be a stubborn flustered MESS if stream ever figured out that he was crushing on someone.

And of course they find out because Tubbo slips up and mentions Tommy having a crush.

By that point he is absolutely CONSUMED by his thoughts about the reader as the more he tries to not think about them the more he wishes he was with them.

He also would 10000% be ignoring or avoiding his crush for as long as possible because he knows he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word to their face. His usual ‘big man’ façade would be in absolute shambles if he were around the reader during this time.

There would be a lot of internal and external swearing from Tommy when he finally realises and accepts that he likes you though.

However, this acceptance doesn’t make him any less stressed because now he needs to figure out whether he is even going to tell you!

But he knows he can’t keep living like this as he can’t keep avoiding his crush forever. And he knows the next time he sees you he knows his heart is going to literally burst out of his chest. And he won’t be able to stop himself. So, he devises a plan.

He gets a pep talk from Tubbo in which they help brainstorm his confession plan but he finds himself messaging Wilbur one late night after his stream. “Hey, can I get some advice?” Wilbur is shocked. “Tommyinnit asking ME for advice? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Wilbur teases him for a short while surely. But when Tommy finally puts his pride aside and tells Wilbur about his crush he sobers up quick and dishes out some solid advice and support for Tommy. “In exchange for my services I better be meeting this crush of yours Tommy.” “You got it big man.”

After speaking with Wilbur Tommy feels as if he can finally breathe for the first time in weeks since he first started to realise his feelings for the reader.

CONFESSION DAY!

Tommy sends the reader a text in the mid-morning asking if they wanted to hang out sometime later today. Also apologizing for how ‘busy’ he’s been the last few weeks using schoolwork or chores as his excuse.

He’s furiously texting Tubbo the WHOLE time he’s waiting for a reply from them. Tubbo pulls Tommy onto Minecraft to try and take his mind off the situation. Offline of course, Tommy would not be able to handle streaming right now.

Even Wilbur sends him a few messages to check in, jumping on discord to give his ear for Tommy to chew off. Which he most definitely does.

Eventually his phone dings and Tommy DIVES for it. “THEY SAID YES!” Both Wilbur and Tubbo groan from Tommy’s mic peaking with his screech.

Tommy waits for a few minutes before replying per Tubbo’s request. “I read it online! You don’t want to seem too into them.” He proclaims with false authority as Wilbur chuckles in the background of the call.

The rest of the afternoon blurs for Tommy as he stays on call with Wilbur and Tubbo as they do their best to distract his overactive mind.

However, as the clock ticks on he knows he needs to start getting ready or he’s going to be late.

Wilbur demands that he choose Tommy’s outfit. So for the next half hour Tommy proceeds to perform a free fashion show for the two, only for Phil to join for a short while to give his two cents before going back to his stream.

Eventually Wilbur settles on what he dubbed “-a classic Tommyinnit look-” one of his favourite red shirts paired with one of his nicer black jackets and the dark charcoal pants his mum had made him get a few months ago for a wedding. They are very uncomfortable.

Tommy heaves a sigh as he thanks Wilbur and Tubbo for sticking around with him today. They both send him away, “Good luck Tommy!” “Go get ‘em big man.”

Tommy had agreed to meet the reader at the park, he thought dinner would have been a bit much. Wilbur and Tubbo both agreed on that front. This park was right near the water, so it had a great view of the sunset. He was still pretty chuffed about that fact, his chat was sooo wrong, he could be romantic if he wanted to after all.

Of course, he was a little late. He repeatedly told his mum to speed. She refused of course. His mother of course had noticed exactly what this ‘hang out’ was and had quizzed him about his crush the night prior.

“Don’t leave the car mum.” Tommy was quick to warn her, he did not want her to be anywhere near them. She didn’t need any more dirt on him to embarrass him with. She could end his whole streaming career in an instant if she wanted. A truly terrifying thought.

Tommy was quick to move near the waterfront puffing slightly, nose a tinge pink with the oncoming chilly wind from the lake. “Hey Tommy.” Tommy would freeze instantly before quickly turning with a forced smile, a little too big for his face. “Hey!”

His crush would lead Tommy over to the nearby bench they had been sitting on before he arrived. And they would definitely sit closer to Tommy than he would have wanted.

Tommy would be so obvious. Stuttering over his words, a LOT of frantic hand movements whenever he’s speaking to them.

Mid-conversation his crush starts to laugh. “Tommy I think I’ve figure out why you have been ‘busy’ recently.” Tommy stills immediately, sweat dripping off of him in POOLS. “H-Huh!?” He makes a noise in the back of his throat that he has NEVER made before.

This seems to only make his crush laugh more, they turn fully to him and take one of his clammy hands. He quickly goes to yank it from their grip knowing how sweaty it is. But their grip is strong, and surprisingly calm in contrast to his shaking hands. He gulps simply staring at the spot where their hands are touching. “Tommy.” His gaze snaps up to their smiling face hiding slight worry. “Breathe.” And he finally does. His tense shoulders drop, and their hand leaves his. And suddenly he’s laughing harder than he ever has before realizing how ridiculous he’s being right now. And when he looks over, so is his crush.

The conversation from that point on flows naturally as the two finally begin to catch up after not seeing each other for a few weeks.

Tommy finally realises how comfortable they make him feel. He simply stares at them as they speak. Awed that it took him this damn long to figure out he liked them.

His crush stops talking, noticing him staring. He jumps out of his thoughts, “Hey Tommy, take a picture it’ll last longer.” And suddenly he’s sweating all over again as they laugh.

His crush is having the time of their life watching ‘big man’ Tommy squirm beside them. Trying his best to scrounge up the courage to say something, anything to them.

They open their mouth to speak when suddenly Tommy yells, “I LIKE YOU!”

Tommy isn’t even looking at them, he has his eyes squeezed shut and he thrusts his arm outwards holding something which promptly shoves into his crush’s chest. Effectively winding them.

They wheeze in response, “Me too. Don’t know why though goD!” They push out through gasps of air, pressing a hand to their chest. Pain beginning to subside as Tommy realises he literally just punched his crush.

His jaw drops and his silence continues as they take what was in his hands. A small book.

A scrapbook.

His crush’s face softens as they flip through the photos, memories flooding back to them of days long gone by.

Tommy stayed up all night yesterday just to finish the final details on the scrapbook, it isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing. (Even he knows that) But he put his heart and soul into it.

“Very sweet of you Tommy. But I didn’t bring anything for you…” They end up mumbling in response. Tommy only grins. “So you like it?” They scoff and finally pull Tommy in for a hug. He stills for a moment, then melts into their hold.

Tommy mumbles his apology for literally punching them into his crush’s hair. They giggle into his chest in response, letting him know that it’s fine, they’re okay. Tommy mumbles something incoherent into their hair and presses a cautionary kiss to the top of their head.

“AWWWWW!” A loud noise comes from behind their bench. Tommy and his crush dive apart only to see Tommy’s mum hidden behind a nearby tree.

“MUUUUUUUUUM!” Tommy screeches as his crush cackles out a laugh.

Tommy’s mum ends up driving his crush home as well, they sit in the back seat of the car holding hands.

“This didn’t go at all how I’d planned…” Tommy complains with a deep pout. “Oh really? Your plan didn’t involve punching me? Huh?” Their crush sniggers at him.

“Oh! His real plan-“ His mother starts and in order to cut her off Tommy just starts yelling at the top of his lungs “Nononono!!”. Causing his crush to burst into laughter as the two try to increase their volumes to drown out the other.

His crush shakes their head with a grin and wonders what the hell they’ve just gotten themselves into.

#tommyinnit #tommy x reader #mcyt headcanons #mcyt imagines #mcyt x reader #tommy mcyt

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manchasama · 2 years

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Pluck it. I’mmana do it. I’m posting this basically raw from my notes file. This is how I got dragged into submas, because my brain went tripping down this idea.

Here is the FNAF:SB background post and all

Might as well put this self indulgent stuff here. This is the fnafsb meets trainmuppets stuff

So this would be post "AI chip theft attempt" in my story. Timeline wise….

So Gregory is 10 at fnafsb. I'd say he's about 11 or 12, probably 12 when the breaking happens. But during that first year or so, he gets his hands on a left behind DS and the black&white pokemon games. (Listen, he waited a full month of it being in lost and found before he absconded with it. It was an old system, so they probably consider it trash anyway). So he plays the game to death, and really likes the challenge of the battle subway and trying to fight the twins. Thinks they're silly but cool. (They kind of remind him of Sun and Moon tbh)

So breaking happens, life goes back to mostly status quo. Not sure if the sentience of the animatronics has gotten very far in the rumor mill yet, but it's definitely not widespread yet. Probably just with the technicians at this point. Gregory probably watches the anime, and really likes it when the twins show up in it (among other things of course). Since Gregory lives with people who are designed to be a bit silly and have no shame about "cringe" stuff, he does end up being a lot more comfortable with liking things "too young" or "too dumb" or the like.

The animatronics figure out a way to buy Gregory a gift. They probably loop Vanessa in, who signs up for some freelance contract work but the bots are the ones doing the actual work. Technically illegal if she gets caught but she's kind of beyond caring about stupid things like that anyway.

So the idea probably comes from Moon (and Sun?), but they all help out to get it. They get him a switch and the latest Pokemon game, Legends of Arceus. Gregory is overwhelmed (though he tries very hard not to be, but god dang this is the nicest thing anyone's done for him basically ever). And he plays the game, and has a great time, and then he comes across Ingo.

And like. He should be happy about it. These characters he really liked…well this character he really liked showed up in the game. It's pretty cool that something so old would be brought into the newest game. It is. But…there's something restless in his chest. The things Ingo says, about remembering a precious partner. But he also doesn't really know what to do about it. He can't /do/ anything about it in fact.

It bothers him enough to be noticeable to the others, but not like super distressing. Just occasionally his thoughts circle back to it and he gets frustrated and sad. Freddy is of course there for him, and he loves the comfort of papa bear. But he doesn't really think he can articulate it to any of them. Except maybe…Sun and Moon.

It's easier with moon. With the low lighting, just to climb into Moon's lap. It's reassuring, and Gregory needs all he can get because he still doesn't know how to process what he's feeling. He /knows/ it's just a dumb game. So why does he feel…. (like his heart is breaking, heavy empathy) It's probably partial trauma from what happened to the bots and specifically sun and moon. Being ripped apart from each other literally in their case, and how horrible it was for Moon left behind.

Anyway he spills the beans on what he's feeling to them, and they help him process it a bit. Sun is the one who searches online for stories and pictures others have done, showing Gregory that he's not alone in his feelings, in his desire for a reunion of the brothers.

If I have done the cross over with gravity falls and dipper, can use something magical to explain what happens. But otherwise I have no idea what happens that sends Gregory to the Pokemon world. Whatever it is, Sun and Moon will have the ability to follow him in a bit.

Anyway, Gregory is pretty damn good at rolling with the punches that life gives him these days. Getting transported (away from his family) to a new location really should be chump change. (He ignores his pounding heart, that he is alone again, that he has no home here, that he will be on the streets again). And as he wanders along, he comes across the subway (purposefully or not). And he overhears whispers that Ingo has been gone for x number of years. And he sees Emmet, with his empty smile as he tries to hold up the world alone.

(Potentially there is a language barrier. Gregory went through a phase of trying to learn Japanese, and can be okay at it, but in his panic and frenzy he can barely remember how to string english words together)

He doesn't even remember moving, doesn't remember much but grabbing Emmet's sleeve and his attention and just blurting out that he knows where Ingo is. (It strikes a spark in Emmet's eyes, desperate hope that doesn't fizzle out the entire time Gregory tries to explain)

Emmet brings this strange child to his house, where Gregory through a series of pantomimes and broken Japanese manages to get across the concept that Ingo is in ancient Sinnoh. (getting paper and a pencil to try and visualize things. Making a crude map and asking where, until Emmet brings up a map of the regions and Gregory can figure out which is Sinnoh. Making a line, a clock, a crude drawing of gregory meeting emmet and them arriving in the house and where they are now. Dragging a finger along the line, seeing if Emmet is understanding he means a timeline, passage of time. When he thinks he does, dragging his finger as far as he can and pointing off into the distance, then pointing to Sinnoh. Does Emmet understand? (Emmet does get the gist of it. He doesn't know how or why, but he trusts.))

Potentially this is where Sun comes in, or Gregory had the game on him and pulls it out. Shows Emmet his brother in the game. Emmet taking the console and just staring at his brother. Not real, obviously cartoony, but it could be no one else. I think then Sun could come in.

So however Sun and moon manage to follow, they are waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of their depth here. They should be hiding from people, because they are not in the pizzaplex any more, and what will these people do to them, but they need to find Gregory. They have a ping from the watch (proximity with the build in hardware), and have been following it. People have stared, pointed, but they don't look angry or particularly scared. (They probably realize Sun is not a pokemon, but what on earth is going on? Is it a performer? What a costume!)

Tempted to have Sun interact with people. He and Moon can speak Japanese (among other languages), and of course he loves kids. Maybe even interacts with some of their pokemon. But he is still searching for Gregory, so it's not much of an aside.

Once Gregory realizes that Sun is there, once he's wrapped in familiar metal arms, something in his chest loosens. He's not here alone. And while having his full family would be good, at least he has these two. (He honestly trusts their common sense a bit more than the glams anyway)

Settle back in with Emmet, and Sun acts as a translator (Gregory in his lap, because again comfort is needed.) Emmet is unbothered by talking to an animatronic, is unbothered by the strangeness of the story, doesn't really need the clarification but appreciates the effort. Ingo is alive, and hurt (lost memories), and needs Emmet to find him. He believes this strange story. (It is so much better than wondering, to believe this. Even if it hurts, it is hot coals compared to broken glass.) So Emmet will go. Somehow.

Gregory gets crash tutored by sun and moon on the language, and he's a clever kid who is now immersed in the language so he picks it back up quickly.

Emmet getting to know Gregory and Sun and Moon. Gregory is taking the lead, as he usually does with the animatronics. But Emmet knows the world better and leads the Quest as it were. They are all basically driven by manic energy (trauma *jazz hands*).

Sun and Moon don't even bother bringing up trying to get home to Gregory. They know that leaving this situation as is, not seeing it through to the end, would hurt Gregory far more than the dangers of staying in this world. Physical damage can be avoided, protected against, and healed. Mental damage on top of what's already there would be there forever in a way. Besides, the way home is waiting for them whenever they want to take it. (Whatever it is sobs)

At some point Emmet brings up Gregory catching some pokemon. Gregory turns it down. As cool as it is, he couldn't safely bring them back to his world, it would be far too dangerous for the pokemon and the unsuspecting humans. There's no way to take care of them. He can't hide them in the pizza plex, and he won't leave his home. And he won't befriend them just to leave them behind. Emmet is proud and impressed at the maturity of that decision, though disappointed he won't have a chance to battle Gregory ever.

So the trick is to get to ancient Sinnoh. The right time period that Ingo is in. Trying to hunt down a pokemon god is certainly doable, but I'm thinking if the way Gregory arrived was spell related, that gives enough flexibility. Gregory casting it not really knowing what it does? Possibly. Sun and Moon having to try their hand at /magic/? Why would magic work for an animatronic? It's not like they have souls or anything, right? (it totally does work tho) And then too it lets Gregory take Emmet outside the Pokemon world to crash in at another point in time/space. Using Emmet as the pivot point, his connection to Ingo. They will arrive the same relative time to Ingo. Like two trains that have diverted onto separate tracks, you can't just reconnect the current track to track so far behind you. Or rather if 2 years passed for Emmet they can hook up with Ingo who lived 2 years in Hisui, but not Ingo who just arrived in Hisui. The connection has to be there, and there's too much distance between Emmet who lived without his brother and the time his brother only just arrived. Idk im tired i hope i'm articulating well enough for future me.

So yeah, to ancient times, reunite the bros. I don't have any particularly new ides for this, so the usual will do. Ingo will for sure remember Emmet right away, bc I need it.

Hmm, I'm wondering if the way they travel is actually hopping back to Gregory's world. Yeah, that actually might work. So Gregory brings Emmet back to his world. Gives him time to check in with Papa bear and all, who is probably verrrrry worried at this point. The other animatronics can't come with because of their need for a charging station. Sun and Moon charge off kinetic energy, so they can go. But if they are missing (again for much longer) then there might be some bad repercussions for them. Scrapping when they return and all. It's not going to /stop/ them, but

But Emmet also realizes that they are putting themselves at risk for him. And he stops them there, safety first and all that. Surely they can plan a better route. (Even if the delay hurts, he wants to go /now/). But Gregory still has to figure out how to adjust the time/location of the transport spell back into the Pokemon world. Doesn't take too long tho. Basically they coordinate it for a shutdown (where the plex closes for a few days), and the maintenance team is convinced to cover for a brief absence. They think Sun and Moon are going outside, and while nervous are kinda gung ho about it. Stick it to the man, you funky robos. Then they make it back to Ingo and all.

Once affairs are wrapped up, now they need to get the brothers home. I think the problem is that they misjudge their return, and end up crashing into the center of the crowded atrium during open hours. With some quick thinking, they manage to pass it off as an event/show. Maybe even have one of the pokemon out as an "animatronic please do not touch". Emmet and Ingo are very showboaty, and while out of practice Ingo manages. Language barrier might be an issue, if I do keep that. Hmmmmmmm. (Idea, that while Emmet and Ingo start it off, Sun jumps in to direct the show as it were. Flipping over their heads, aided by the rope, he announces himself loudly. "Helllllo! Did you miss me?" etc etc and basically ad-libs Ingo and Emmet as guest day care attendants. Their black/white theme does sort of match Sun and Moon so it's pretty buyable)

Anyway they are stuck for a few days, because a bunch of things happen. Sun and Moon's absence was covered, the other animatronics helping cover their shifts perhaps in between their own stuff, so management is not the wiser. But the technicians also have a surprise for them. See, originally they were meant to be two animatronics. And taking into account some of the "wishlist" upgrades the two wanted, the recent success of the pizzaplex, the technicians managed to budget in new (separate) bodies for them! Sun and Moon are…horrified! :)

It's after hours, and the technician has just revealed the news to Sun. Sun who goes into supreme anxiety mode. Who backs away, runs away back to (safety) the day care. The lights are out and Moon climbs to the darkest furthest corner to (hide) protest. They do not want to be separated (they are terrified).

The technician(s) are crushed, because they wanted to do something nice but it totally backfired. They aren't going to force Sun and Moon into it, they'll figure out something to explain to the higher ups. But then Emmet strides forward and starts climbing the netting toward where Moon is. (Freddy shoos everyone away, but doesn't have the heart to fully remove Ingo. Nor Gregory, who is leaning heavily against his side while they sit and wait. Gregory has adopted aggressive contact as a comfort model, so lap sitting and leaning into people are his go-to)

Emmet talks to Moon. Or rather, listens to Moon rant. It gets to the point where Moon has worked himself into enough of a frenzy and accuses Emmet from having no idea how it felt. And Moon stops himself because while it's true, it's not true, and it's not fair.

Still, Emmet is still smiling, as he always does, but he tells Moon. Tells him of the gaping hole in his chest of the absence of the one who'd always been there. Of the near madness of not knowing what happened. And then he tells them of the time where people started to point the finger of blame at Emmet. He was the last one who saw Ingo. He lived with him. Was it possible Emmet had done something? The rumors didn't last, anyone who was anyone knew how close the brother were, but it killed something in Emmet. /Had/ he done something to send Ingo away? While he knew now that he did not, that it had been out of their control, that time was worse than just Ingo being missing.

So maybe Emmet didn't understand exactly. But he understood all the same. And the recoupling of their train and how it wasn't the same but was still good. There were repairs to be made. It would probably never run exactly the same. But it wasn't bad.

(I probably had better ideas for this part but i am running on too little sleep to remember)

Anyway so that's how Sun and Moon are convinced to go in the separate bodies. Their old body is set aside as a backup if one of them is ever too damaged or something comes up etc, rather than recycled for another animatronic. It's disturbing but comforting, knowing that nothing wearing your old skin will be walking around.

Not sure if I want them to have an eclipse mode before hand. If they did, then it's a copilot type situation with a mismodge of settings. Possibly it lets the back AI come to the front instead without the necessary light requirements. But after maybe the technicians designed their two bodies to have the ability to combine, because they /know/ how much being together means to sun and moon. And while they can't have it all the time, it does give them an option (supposed to be for security purposes, but you know they'll use it when they need the comfort instead)

I had something else but I have no brain for memory right now. It involved a way for them to go back and forth at will, so you could have that event for realsies maybe with Emmet and Ingo, or you could have Gregory have an opportunity to raise a team since he has free access to the other world.

#fun times ahead #submas #fnaf: security breach #*puts face in hands*#it was extremely self indulgent but #i hope someone enjoys it #gonna go die of embarrassment now

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justoneday-namjoonii · 3 years

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Quarters. | 9

☼1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9

prompt: “I don’t know why I’m crying, I just-...I really love you, like, just staring at you really fucks me up.” — soul-gazing

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings/au: please keep warnings in mind—dysfunctional relationship with a capital D, toxic relationship themes, but they’re attempting to get better, probably inaccurate therapy but i tried, m-ish, humor(i try), mentions of drug usage, cheater cheater pumpkin eater?, fluff, angst, boxer!au, iceskater!au.

authors note: Hello!!💖it’s been a while since the last update but here we are. ✨This chapter is pretty long✨. Unlike some of the other parts, it is following the timeline of the previous part(pt. 8) so just keep that in mind. See m.list for other parts. Enjoy!🥰

“Do it again, you need to stop relying on your right leg so much!”

Your coach yells for the third time in the last hour, she’s being a tyrant today. Your poor ankles are about to break off, your legs are straining and the cold air is starting to feel like vengeful needles. It’s been about two months since the incident with your leg and the doctor at your last check up granted you freedom to skate again. You’re glad it did to because you were about to go crazy. After the scandal came out about you and your ex-coach judge, she asked you if you wanted to get back into pairs. She went on about how Lucas was open to joining pairs again and that maybe you could get back with him—tempting offer. You’ve thought about it, though you still haven’t made a decision. It has been months since your injury, you can no longer use it as an excuse to take things easy.

Determined to get it right, you skate back to your starting point and try it again. You skate forward, bending your knees just slightly to gain more momentum and once you turn, you take off into a triple salchow. Perfect.

”Finally,” You mutter, skating over to the edge of the rink where your coach is just getting off a phone call.

“Okay, Lucas will be here on Thursday to practice with you,” She smiles, tucking her phone in her pocket, “there’s a competition in two months and I think you two should sign up for it.”

“Coach, I haven’t decided if I want to get back into that,” You put on your blade guards and walk over to the lockers, “I just don’t know yet.”

“Think about it,” She leans against the lockers as you untie your skates and put them in your bag, “if you’re seriously pursuing this career, you have to be flexible. You’re not getting any younger. I hate it just as much as you do but you’ll get positive exposure with him and maybe even pick up a sponsor for the season.”

“Fine,” You zip up your duffel bag and slip your hoodie on, deciding to leave the yoga pants on, “but I need a break. I worked a night shift last night so I’m only standing because I took three espresso shots and I’m about to take another one, I’m exhausted.”

“I know you are, try to get some rest this weekend. You’ll be at the ballet studio for half of next week so you won’t be on the ice,” She says that, hoping it’ll give you some relief, “just don’t forget to soak your feet tonight.”

You gather your stuff and walk out of the center, waving at Carrie the desk clerk like a zombie. It’s only 8 o’clock but you’ve been here for two hours, you feel like you’re in a time loop. An eternal warp created to keep you totally spent. When you hop in your car, you crank it up and turn the heat on. Not long after, your eyelids begin to feel heavy so you drive over to the closest coffee shop. When you look down at your phone, you see a missed call from Jeon Jungkook. All prior emojis have been removed from his contact.

His call will stay missed, just like the other five. You’re not in the mood for his sob story. About two weeks ago, you decided that you two needed to take a break but he took it hard. You remember sitting on your couch with crossed arms and staring at him as he twisted and squirmed uncomfortably.

“What kind of break?”

Are there different kinds?

“The kind where we stop seeing each other all the time, I don’t know what kind that is, Jungkook. But I can’t deal with this right now, it’s causing me major stress and anxiety...”

“You can’t deal with me?” He sounds hurt.

“Not with you Jungkook, with your crap. I have a ice skating career to try to work out, a job, school, the last thing I need to worry about is whether you can control yourself,” You frown, “you were just at my house with my niece and next thing I know you’re out getting high and fooling around with other girls.”

“You’re still upset about the photo,” He concludes, “baby, I told you, it didn’t go anywhere with that girl, I pushed her off. I wasn’t completely sober but I know I didn’t let her-”

“That’s exactly my point, you were doing drugs. And for what? You don’t need it. I understand a little bit of smoking every now and then but I can’t handle when you do that other stuff. That night was a disaster. I got stabbed, how does that even happen? But of course, it would happen to me,” You massage the sides of your temples. “I’m just over it, I’m tired.”

“You want to give up on us? Just like that? I’ve apologized a thousand times, I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m sorry,” He twiddles his fingers and bites at his bottom lip, “I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m not giving up,” You defend, “we need some space to work on our selves.”

“Why can’t we work on ourselves together?”

“We’ve been doing that and it doesn’t work.”

The conversation continued on until you two ended up arguing for a good hour before you lied, saying you had to go to class. He left and you haven’t heard from him since, not a a call, a text, a call, not even a like on any of your recent posts. He’s taking this well.

“Why did you do that!? She’s gonna think I called her,” Jungkook snatches the phone from Jimin, “fuck, are you trying to get me killed?”

“Come on,” Jimin roles his eyes with a grin, putting his boxing gloves back on, “you guys can’t stay away from each other, you expect me to believe you two aren’t talking-”

“I’m serious, we haven’t talked for weeks,” Jungkook locks his phone with a frown, tucking it in his gym bag, “she’s done with me.”

“Oh, aw man,” He is serious, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you guys broke up.”

He had been by you and Jungkook for the entirety of the relationship, it always seemed like you preferred things to be spontaneous. Admittedly, he knew Jungkook would do something that pushed you over the edge one day but he didn’t think it would be so soon.

“We didn’t break up,” Jungkook mumbles, tying his hair back with a head band, “we’re just taking a break, that’s what she told me at least.”

“Aw, that sucks,” Jimin has to contain his amusement, it’s not funny but the fact that Jungkook is giving you full control over the relationship is unusual to him.

“Every time I think about trying to talk to her, I just remember that face she makes and that tone she uses. That’s when I know she does not give a single fuck, it’s scary.”

“Is there a reason she’s being so hard on you? Don’t get me wrong, you were in the wrong. You shouldn’t have been there but it’s been weeks.”

“Her past relationship was rough on her mentally and emotionally. When she was young she had some things happen to her that causes her to have a hard time trusting others.”

“If you knew that then why did you do what you did?”

“I don’t know, okay? Everyone's been beating me up about it but I just don’t have an answer for you. I said I was sorry,” Jungkook shakes his head, fists making brunt contact with the punching bag, “I just I miss her,”

“It’ll be alright, she’ll come around,” Jimin holds the bag, keeping it still for the lovesick boy, “just give it some time. Hey, I’m taking my niece to the ice-skating rink in town, you should come!”

Jungkook, dramatically collapses to the ground, laying back on the ground with his boxing gloves on his face. “Ice-skating, why would you suggest ice-skating!?” He whines. “That’s literally what she does, it’s just going to remind me of her...”

“Aw Kook, I know,” Jimin can’t help but giggle at Jungkook’s overreaction, “that’s okay, you’ll be fine, and besides,” He pulls him up from the ground and pushes his shaggy hair back, “you can’t stay away from each other forever..”

“What about this one?” You step out of the dressing room, turning from side-to-side to let her see, “I like the color.”

“That’s the one,” Harmony scrolls through her phone, eyes going between you and the screen, “perfect.”

“Harmony, you’re just saying that!” You whine, turning to look into the mirror again with a frown.

“Y/n, this is the 11th dress you’ve tried on, it looks great. I’m serious.”

“Okay, I’ll go with this one then,” You smile, going back in the dressing room to change back into your clothes. Yuna’s having a party for the charity she works with. All of the money donated goes to buying toys and clothes for kids in foster care and orphanages, you attend every year.

“You know, I heard Jungkook might come with Taehyung,”

Ugh, you forgot that your groups of friends are also friends. Jeon Jungkook, you still consider him your boyfriend in some aspects, but you don’t want to face him right now. Maybe you’re dragging this out too far but honestly, you don’t care. You love him but right now, you’re doing too well to let him crawl himself back into your life. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t creeping on his social media every now and then, you do care enough to see how he’s doing on there.

“Hm,”

“That’s all you have to say?” She giggles.

“Yup.”

“Did you officially dump his ass yet?”

You step out of the dressing room, rolling your eyes harder than necessary.

“Look, what happened to you was terrible. You couldn’t skate because of him. You caught him with another girl and you still let him take you home,” She was still bitter about Jungkook taking you away the way he did, she still thinks she should have insisted more.

You clear your throat, “I rather not talk about it.”

It’s been admittedly awkward every time one of your friends bring that night up. On one hand, you understand why they bash him so hard but on the other hand, it’s hard to hear. You two leave the mall and grab lunch to eat in the comfort of your car..

During this break, you’ve decided to try and take things slow, relax. Admittedly, it would be nice to have Jungkook around again, to run errands with, to cuddle with. It’s hard not to miss him, you knew it would be.

“We should go to the pop-up ice-skating rink on campus today, it’s a family thing I think,” Harmony squeezes ketchup onto her fries with a thoughtful him, “it sounds fun.”

“It’s funny you say that, Lucas invited me to go ther. He was going to go with his family, I told him I probably wouldn’t be able to.” You sigh.

“Oh, that’s right! The prince is back in town,” Harmony always had a thing for Lucas, even in high school. When you two were partners years ago, she still had a crush on him, “then we definitely should go. Are you getting back into pairs with him?

“Yeah, we’ll do one season together next year.” You have to admit, you are excited to get back into the practice with one of your best friends.

“I’ll definitely have to brush up on my ballet lessons and I was always a bit too shaky during lifts. Our instructions used to say if I don’t look comfortable during lifts on the stable ground, I can’t expect to look good while I’m being lifted and Lucas is still skating. I trust Lucas a lot more now so I think it’ll go well,”

“Jungkook will love that.”

You take a bite of your chicken sandwich with a heavy sigh, “He’ll live...”

“Uncle,” Yona sits with her little brother in the back seat while they wait for Jungkook to finish pumping the gas, “why does your friend look so grumpy? Doesn’t he want to go skating with us?”

Jimin glances back at Yona and smiles, thinking of how he should explain Jungkook’s situation. “He’s just upset, he’s fine.”

“What is he upset about?” Jimin hesitates for a moment but Jungkook signals that he’s running inside for something.

“Well,” He turns to face her, “can you keep a secret?” She eagerly nods. “Kookie is a little sad because he misses his girlfriend.”

“Oh, what happened to her?” Yona frowns, fearing what Jimin might say.

“Nothing happened to her, he’s okay, they just haven’t seen each other in a long time,” He rakes his brain, trying not to say too much about Jungkook’s love life, “but it’s okay, he’s alright. Just try to understand, he’s not trying to be a grump, he’s just a big teddy bear who pretends to be tough when he’s sad,” He grins, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Oh,” She nods adorably, pitying Jungkook, “I won’t,”

in the nick of time, Jungkook comes back with a receipt and mumbles something about the poor management in the convenience store. Jimin notices how Yona looks at him with sympathetic eyes but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too wrapped up in his phone to see that a 9-year-old is pitying his dysfunctional love-life.

It doesn’t take long before the four of them arrive at the skating rink and Jimin is helping, Juda, Yona’s sleepy 5-year-old brother out of the car. Yona takes the liberty of escorting her self out and walking over to Jungkook.

“Hi,” She looks up at him, not even a little intimidated by his towering stature over herself.

Jungkook looks around, as if she’s talking to someone else. “Hi,” He gives her a small wave, “it’s Yona, right?”

“Yes,” She nods, walking by his side, “uncle said your girlfriend skates, do you skate too?”

Jungkook mentally cringes, bracing himself for whatever Jimin told this little girl about his personal life. “No, I’m a boxer, she’s the skater.”

“Ahh, ice skating is prettier than boxing, you should ice skate too,” She looks back at Jimin and Juda walking side by side, wondering if she should walk with them or stay with Jungkook. Just when she was about to further judge Jungkook’s life choices, Jimin and Juda catch up. Jimin leads the four of them to the skate rental booth where Jungkook avoids eye contact with the girls behind the counter. It’s hard enough to be in your environment, let alone be surrounded by couples and families skating to their hearts content. It’s not the same without you, it doesn’t feel like he should even be trying to enjoy himself after what he did to you.

Jimin and the kids get their skates on, but Jungkook tells them to go ahead without him. The more he sits here, the less he wants to be here.

“We decided to come and skate for a little bit, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to take your invitation, I didn’t think I’d be able to come.” You and Harmony skate out onto the ice.

Lucas stands at the edge of the rink, smiling. “It’s okay, I’m here with my family so don’t sweat it, hey! You wanna practice a routine, for old time sake?”

“There are way too many people to be practicing a routine. Besides, I’m already sore from practice yesterday.”

“Where’s your boyfriend? I thought you told me he skates with you sometimes,” He skates a circle around you, a toothy grin on his face, “I want to meet him.”

“He was busy,” You lie. You don’t know where Jungkook is or what he’s doing, “It’s just us.″

Somehow, he believes you and skates off with his family while you breathe.

“You lie,” Harmony shakes her head as if to say shame on you.

“What was I supposed to say? I’m not gonna burden him with my personal problems.”

You two go back and forth until she surrenders, claiming she’ll leave you a Jungkook’s relationship out of her mouth for the rest of the day. You highly doubt she can but you appreciate the effort.

Nononononono—why is he here? And blonde. Your eyes widen, your palms get sweaty, just seeing him affects you. You’ve missed him. Judging by the way he’s sitting on the bench with his skates beside him, he looks sad. Who is he here with?

”Y/n, Harmony, hey!” Jimin skates over to you with two little kids by his side, they’re so cute. “What’re you two doing here?”

”Jimin? Hi, fancy meeting you here, we decided to come last minute,” You’ve connect the dots now, “who are these two cuties?”

“I’m babysitting my niece and nephew,” He holds both of your hands and the both of them say a shy little greeting, “say hello guys,”

“Hi,” Yona waves at you two and you greet her with a bright smile.

Jimin glances back at Jungkook who has yet to notice you. “Y/n, can I talk to you for a minute?” You nod.

“Harmony can you please watch them for a second?” “Me? Um, I guess but-”

You skate to the edge of the rink and Jimin follows, you already anticipating what this conversation is about.

“Jungkook is here.”

“I know, I saw him,” You deadpan.

“Look, I know what happened between you guys and he probably doesn’t want me to say this, but he’s been the biggest bitch since you two split, I’ve never seen him so at odds with himself.”

“What am I supposed to do about that? That’s not my fault.” You frown.

“I’m not saying that you need to do anything,” Now he understands what Jungkook meant about your infamous tone. “I just wanted to let you know, I figured you haven’t talked.”

“I’m sorry,” You hold your face in your hands, “I’m not trying to be mean, I just have a lot on my mind and I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with him today.”

“Maybe you two can talk, I’m not saying you should get back together but maybe talking face to face will help you find common ground?”

That’s advice that you know you should take but the thought of talking to him makes your stomach uneasy. It’s easier to ignore him, erase him from your life while you figure out what you want. You’re very childish in the aspect of talking things out, he is too.

“Here he comes,” Jimin looks over at Jungkook who is slowly approaching you two, “I’ll give you two some space-”

“Jimin, I swear, if you did this on purpose!-” Your threat is cut short when he skates away and Jungkook skates up to you. As if you don’t even see him, you quickly skate away, uninterested in anything he might have to say.

Jungkook knows he can’t possibly out-skate you. He mumbles a few curses before skating over to Jimin and the kids as frustrated as ever. For a moment, he almost changed course because Harmony, his biggest hater, is with them and she is one of the last people he wants to see.

“Jungkook, hey,” Jimin sighs, dreading the angry frown in Jungkook’s brows, “I’m glad you decided to-”

“Did you know she was here?” Jungkook cuts straight to the punch, not paying any mind to Harmony whose staring at him as if he’s a mass murderer.

“No,” Jimin shrugs, voice low in order not to alarm the kids who are skating near by, “you know I would have told you.”

“I’ll be in the car.” He skates off, anxious to get off the ice but he’s stopped when another skater bumps into his shoulder.

“Sorry!-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook shrugs, but just when Jungkook was about to leave the guy gives him a weird look.

“Wait, what’s your name? You look so familiar,”

“Jungkook,” He responds with a bit of impatience, “I don’t think I know you from anywhere, sorry-”

“You’re Y/n’s boyfriend! She showed me some of her pictures pictures,” Lucas smiles but Jungkook’s eyes darken, “I’m Lucas, we’re competing in pairs again next season, I’m sure she’s told you.”

“Oh, I didn’t know, probably slipped her mind,” You haven’t mentioned it on purpose. Then again, how could you? You haven’t talked in weeks.

Just when he thought this day couldn’t get any worse, he meets your partner, and he’s not ugly,

“She said you couldn’t come because you were busy, did you come to surprise her?”

“Something like that- I’m sorry, I gotta go.”

“Okay, well...nice to meet you,” Lucas waves him off but Jungkook doesn’t pay him any mind.

He thought this might go differently, why did he think that? As soon as he saw you, that tug in his heart came back, that desire to be around you came back. When you walked away, it made him feel like crap, you didn’t even want to look at him.

While he’s skating off to the side to leave the rink, he sees you taking off your personal skates and putting them in their bag. Of course, your caddie is right next to where his heavy black boots are. He enters the room opens the caddie with the little pass-code they gave him when he rented the skates. You spare him a glance as you tie your sneakers and he sits to get his shoes on.

“Did you have to ignore me like that?” He decides to speak up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You frown, “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Since when did you start caring where I go?” He bites back. “You’ve been ghosting me for fucking weeks and suddenly I’m not allowed to go out?”

“I didn’t want to see you...I was doing so good, I was forgetting about you.” You lean back, not giving him eye contact.

”Wow, just what I wanted to hear,” He thought you would say something like that but he didn’t expect you to be so blunt.

“You can’t say you’re surprised, can you?”

“No, but the least you can do is talk to me.”

”Fine, that’s fair. What do you have to say?” You stand to your feet, your bag tight in your hand/

”Believe it or not,” He gets up to lean on the wall behind him, “I love you, so I'm letting you drag me along and make all of the rules but I’m just asking that you communicate with me, I need to know what you want,” He tends to ask this question when he’s most desperate for your good side to emerge.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want? I’m not the one going around making decisions that hurt our relationship, not recently anyway.” You throw a jab at him, you couldn’t contain it anymore.

“If you’re trying to make me feel like shit, you’ve succeeded. You’ve been succeeding for weeks now, it’s actually starting to get to me, mentally.” As he says that, an unsuspecting few individuals come in to get there things.

“Can-” You pause and walk over to him to eliminate the awkward distance, “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

His spirits brighten a little because at least you’re interested in continuing the conversation, you haven’t even attempted to do that until now. So when he stutters out an “okay”, his feet move as soon as yours do. He’s walking right next to you and you find yourself keeping your arms crossed, away from his hands that you would normally be holding. By the time you walk out to the rink, Jimin is still with the kids and Harmony is gone, probably in the restroom. You find a secluded area near the concession area and take a seat, he does the same right across from you.

“Do you want to break up?”

He puts it out there. He’s never been the one to hesitate, especially when his heart is on the line.

“What do you mean?” You swallow, not expecting to be confronted with that question.

He almost scoffs because you’re having a similar reaction to his reaction to you telling him you wanted to take a break.

“Do you not want to be in a relationship anymore? If this isn’t something you’re willing to do anymore, I need you to tell me so I can grieve in peace...I feel really lost right now.”

“Grieve? I’m not going to die if we break up, Jungkook, and I never said I wanted to break up—I never said I didn’t love you either. That’s not what this is about, it’s not about whether we love each anymore, it’s about trust.”

“How can I gain your trust?”

You look around, making sure no one is listening in on you two before mumbling out your answer. “I don’t know...I just don’t trust you, I can’t tell you how to make it up to me because people who screw me over, I normally stay as far away from them as I can.”

All you can think about is the lies from your birth-mother, the betrayal and humiliation that came over you when you found out about your ex. Situations like that always come to mind when the subject of trust is mentioned. You’ve been hurt and Jungkook knows that, he knows when you feel like you can’t trust someone, you shut down. You want nothing to do with that person, your pain blinds you—its your character flaw.

“You’re lucky I’m even talking to you right now,” You mumble, nibbling at your bottom lip.

“Yeah, I know.” He scoffs, a look of disbelief that turns into an understandable shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ve always thought of you as someone I didn’t deserve, you know that,” He glances down at his twiddling fingers, “when we got together, you changed me and I’m so grateful for that...I was such a shitty person before I met you- I mean, I’m sure you think I’m shitty now but I was way worse.” It surprises you when you see tears welling at his eyes that he quickly wipes away, tattooed fingers getting a bit wet.

“Jungkook,” You lay a hand over his with sympathetic eyes, “I still love you.”

“Seriously?” He glances up at you, surprised.

“Yes...You hurt me, you made me feel stupid and I’m not over it...But I never forget those times where I made life difficult for you, you never made me feel irredeemable. No matter how awful I acted, you never made me feel like a burden. That’s more than I can say about a lot of people in my life.”

The more you talk this out with him, the more you realize how harshly you’ve been treating him. It doesn’t change how you feel about your relationship, but it does open your eyes to the standard you’ve been holding him to. You don’t know if you’re ready to start again.

“Well, I have to be honest with you,” He looks at you through his dirty blonde locks, “it still hurts like hell to have you treat me like a stranger. That shit is painful, even for me.”

“I’m sorry,” You murmur out an apology before you can really think about it, “I’m just upset at you is all...” Slowly, you take your hand off of his and your eyes wander back to his dear-like eyes.

“Everyone’s telling me I should let you go but I don’t want to. I just need to know that you’re willing to wait for me, and to work on yourself...”

“I’ll do anything, I’ll do whatever it takes for us,”

Shortly after that day, you found yourself thinking more and more about your future. It made you cringe at one point, what were you planning to do with the rest of your life? Whatever you planned to do, you always imagined Jungkook would be by your side. Now, you’re coming to terms with the fact that things may not go as planned.

“Y/n, are you ready?” Lucas calls your name from outside of the dressing room.

”What are you doing in here? This is the woman’s locker room,” You open the door, now fully dressed in your new leotard.

”We’re the only ones here,” Lucas stands with a matching outfit, far less sparkly as yours.

”Why does she always pick these leotards for me? You always get the toned down looks-” You walk over to the mirror, furrowing your brows, “Oh, actually, this one is kinda nice.”

“She knows you’re the most dramatic out of the two of us, maybe that’s why,” He shrugs his shoulders before quickly running back out into the ballet studio. Your least favorite part of your career is the ballet lessons, it’s the most grueling.

“Come on out, Y/n, we only have the studio for the morning so we need to use our time wisely.”

“Sorry,” You walk out with an urgency, “the costume fits okay, a little snug but it’s doable.”

Coach gives you a knowing look, she’s been floating the idea of a diet around. As committed as you are to your craft, dieting is one thing you don’t think you need to do well. You try to stay fit but sometimes you’re more concerned about your dwindling love life than you dress size. The ballet instructor emerges from around the corner and you cringe, the next few hours are about to be painful.

Yet, as the class progresses, your thoughts drift farther from the positions and you find yourself zoning out completely.

At one point in time, you couldn’t imagine being without Jungkook. Out of all of the people who’ve come and gone out of your life, he stayed. He became your best friend and your first love.

“I don’t want to be here anymore, please, just let me go home,” You sat on the hotel room floor, hair pin in your hands and a painfully cold ice bag on your ankle, “...I can’t go back out there.”

She stands with crossed arms, her unchanging expression not doing anything for your emotional state.”Y/n, you are a professional, and do you know what professionals do?”

”No.”

“They finish the competition, no matter what. You need to stay for the judging, “

“Why? I fell on my biggest jump on live television. Cindy. I look like an amateur...There’s no way in hell they’ll even consider placing me. That means I’m done for, I might as well kiss nationals goodbye.”

”That was the last program, you still have a chance-“

”Not after Charlotte’s routine! You said it yourself, I had to be flawless or Charlotte would take my spot in the qualifying team, there was no room for error. This is the one time it had to be perfect...” You use the bed to help you up and you sit down n the edge of it.

”It won’t be perfect every time. You work harder than any girl I know, and not just in this sport, you work hard at whatever you do and you support yourself, you’re the only girl I know who’s parents aren’t paying for you to be here. You deserve to be here, you made one mistake, one. It’s not the end of the world, sweetheart,” Cindy takes a seat beside you, a comforting hand going to your shoulder, “these things happen.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down and think rationally. Cindy is trying her best to talk you off of the ledge but you’re very much still there. She says you work so hard, but what do you have to show for it? You’re doing this alone a majority of the time. Your family only comes to support you sometimes, they don’t have a lot of free time to spend on your hobby. Your iceskating is a glorified hobby to them, they won’t say it but it’s true. After they told you to pick a major and find a good paying 9-5, they stopped paying for your iceskating. They’re paying for school but that’s it, you’re supporting yourself in every other aspect. That gave you all the reason to try to prove to them that you were an exceptional athlete. To prove to them that you did it all on your own, that’s your only goal. Yet, the more you reach for that, the farther you get from it.

”Listen, I need to check on the other girls, alright? I hope you reconsider.” She pecks your forehead, a motherly affection that you’ve come to appreciate from her. She is like a mom in some ways. She cares for the entire team, and she would never say it, but she has a particular soft spot for you. She can see how much you want this, how the ice can take you to a different place.

You were meant to do this, she always tells you that. She saw the fire in you as soon as she accepted you on her team. Your passion attracted her to you, you never stopped, you had so much drive. Some people are meant to fight tooth and nail for what they want, sometimes you have to ask yourself, why do I have be one of those people?

Ignoring your better judgment, you packed your bags and took the 2-hour drive back to your apartment. All while you were fleeing the city to seek refuge at home, you received multiple phone calls from Jungkook but you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. When you got home, you took off your tracksuit and sank face first into your coach.

As much as you wanted Jungkook to come to the competition, you insisted that he stay and take that job. He hasn’t been boxing as much so any extra art job he can take, you encourage him to take it. He told you he’d streamed the competition while working on the mural at a nearby bar. His heart sank when you took that fall. You put hours of practice into that routine and perfected it, he had seen you do it flawlessly several times.

All he wanted to do was hug you and tell you that you did well but all he could do was hope that you weren’t beating yourself up. He could only imagine how devastated you were and to not be able to be there for you, he couldn’t stand it. He finished up the mural and you had finally texted him saying, ‘I came home early.’ He went straight to your apartment with the big pink bunny he bought for you, you need it even more now.

”Hey, it’s me,” He opened the front door and announced himself softly and walks further inside.

The television barely illuminates the living room but he sees you laying on the couch. He sits the bunny down behind the couch so you can’t see them before walking around to greet you in your depressing state.

“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, baby,” He rests a hand on thigh and kisses your cheek, “you must’ve known how much I was missing you,” His attempt to make you smile goes painfully unnoticed.

He bites at his bottom lip in thought. “Did something happen?...”

You swallow the lump in your throat and finally look him in the eyes, “Did you watch my second program?”

“I did, you looked beautiful-”

“I’m quitting.”

He turns his whole body to you, brows deeply furrowed like a cartoon character. “What?”

You cover your face with a pillow, successfully hiding your tears, “I’m calling Cindy to tell her I don’t want to do it anymore, I quit.”

“Woah, wait, why?” He takes the pillow from you to see your face, “Y/n, calm down, what’s going on? Tell me what happened.”

“I- I didn’t make the national team, that was my only chance until next year. All my hard work went down the drain and everyone saw me screw up..” You wipe your tears with your sleeve.

“Hey, it’s okay, you cry if you need to,” He pulls you into a hug, cradling your head to his chest, “I know this is tough for you but it’s not the end of the world, it’ll get better.”

You pull away from him as if he were suddenly hot to the touch and bury your face into the arm of the couch. “You wouldn’t understand, the pique of my career was riding on this, and I blew it. It feels like the end of my world, okay?”

You know your words are muffled by the couch, that’s probably for the better anyway. “T- that’s just how I feel...”

He doesn’t pry any further after that. He knows there’s not much he can say to change your mind right now. Instead, he scoots closer to your side and places a comforting hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles as he waits for you to continue.

“I have nothing if I lose this, there’s all this pressure on my shoulders and its tearing me apart...” You turn to wipe your face and sit up. “I love skating, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do...if I stop, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You’ll never forget that night.

He lifted you into his lap and kept his arms tight around you. “You’re so much more than just your skating. You’re so good at but it’s not all that you are.” Jungkook has a way of talking you off of the edge but that night, you were especially down on yourself.

“Yes it is...”

“No it’s not,” He sighs, “look, I know what it feels like to find your identity in something and then all of a sudden, that something is gone...When my portfolio got rejected, I felt like a failure. My family never got behind the boxing thing, so I’ve always tried to find another way to support myself just in case for whatever reason it doesn’t work out...I didn’t start realizing that until recently. I’m constantly torn between giving up one dream for the other but I want to do both, you actually inspire me to do both.” You furrow your brows, briefly abandoning your own issues to listen to him.

“You work so hard and you’re showing your family that you can do this, you just have to believe in yourself, and you know what? You’re doing amazing. Tonight was just a bad night, it happens.” He squeezes you tight and you do the same, arms fastened around his neck as if it would kill you to let go.

You didn’t need to say anything after that. You settled your mind and you were no longer at the edge, you were still close, but not there. With your head resting over his shoulder, you try to peek over the couch to see what he dropped back there when he walked in.

“Hey, what’d you think you’re doing?” Jungkook leans forward and your grip around him is loosened so you can no longer look back there. “You think I got something for you?”

You look down a bit embarrassed that he caught you, “Well, yeah...you did, didn’t you?” You smile for the first time tonight and he breathes a sigh of relief. Finally.

He was going to tease you for wanting your gifts even though you just had a meltdown. But how could he? He wants to keep this smile on your face for as long as possible.

“Sit,” He lifts you off his lip and back to your previous seat on the couch, “no peeking.”

You hold your hands over your eyes, excited even thought have no idea what it might be.

“Okay, open.”

When you move your hands to see you squeal in excitement. “Oh, Jungkook! It’s so cute!” You stand up to take the pink bunny that’s almost more than half your size. “Thank you,” You lean into him with the bunny between you two, “it’s so big and soft, like you.”

“Yeah I know,” He sways from side-to-side with you in his arms, “you feeling better?”

You muffle your sigh into the stuffed animal, “I still wanna quit.”

“Oh stop,” He pulls the from your grip and tosses it onto the couch, “you’re just being bratty now,”

“No I’m not,” You whine, the issue still very fresh, “I’m still sad...I just really like my gift and I’m happy to see you...But I am still upset.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” He lays on the couch and beckons you into his arms to lay on his chest, “let’s cuddle you until you feel better then, will that help?”

“Maybe...”

You’d be lying if you said you could live without that side of him.

A few days later, you’re surprised you hadn’t heard from him. But when you get back from the gym with a missed call from him and a solemn text to ‘call back when you can’, you actually call him back.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothings wrong. Thank you for calling me back.”

His voice sounds relaxed but a bit anxious.

“Did you need something?” You sigh, pouring your boiling water in your mug.

“Are you free to go with me somewhere at 11? And then maybe, we could grab dinner? Just-...Don’t be mad, please.”

Anxiety bubbles in your chest.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I signed us up for couples therapy.”

“You did what?” Somewhere in your mind, you had wanted him to bring this up—you never imagined that he actually would.

”You said we don’t know how to work on ourselves together, I read that therapy helps with that. Will you go with me? If you don’t like it, you never have to do it again I swear.”

“Jungkook...I appreciate the effort, I really do, but how did you find this therapist? Do you trust them?”

”Of course. He has great reviews online and my-...Well, my mom found him actually.”

You pause, a bit taken aback. He talked to his mom about your relationship and he took her advice about seeing a therapist? He must have really taken your words to heart about getting help.

“Can you pick me up?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in 20.”

When he picked you up, you were reminded just how well he could clean up. Sure, he always dresses so well and smells amazing, but he’s different today—you can tell he put in a lot of effort. You’re glad you decided to do your makeup and where a nice sundress, you would have felt terribly under-dressed.

“Hi, how can I help you?

“Hi, we have an appointment for Jeon at 5, with Seojoon.”

You stand next to Jungkook at the front desk, your hands tightly clutching your purse. It’s hard to not think the woman is judging you and Jungkook for being here. She’s probably seen hundreds of people come into this office but something in you can’t shake the feeling. She directs you two to the waiting room and says he’ll come get you two in a few minutes.

“So,” You begin, glancing at Jungkook, “I’m nervous...”

“Me too.” This is new for the both of you. In only a few seconds, who you assume to be Seojoon emerges from the hallway and you look at him a bit wide-eyed.

“Hi, Jungkook, Y/n, are you two ready?”

“Oh, um, yes.” You stand up in sync with Jungkook, already wanting to run out of here but you resist.

You have to admit that the office is really nice, not stiff and sterile looking, the energy is very calming. Seojoon opens the door to a cozy-looking room with tons of natural sun light. There’s warm-rose colored couch that you assume is for ‘the couple.’

“Alright, you can take a seat right there, make yourselves comfortable.” He smiles, taking a seat and you two do the same.

“So let’s get right into it. What brought you two here today? If you could both tell me your separate answers, that would be great.” Despite Seojoon looking at you directly to presumably go first, you divert your eyes and look at Jungkook to say something first.

“Well, we’re- I think we’re going through a lot right now and I just want to save our relationship.” Jungkook sits back, resting against the arm of the couch as he gazes at you to give your answer.

“What about you, Y/n?”

You glance down at your lap, feeling very out of your comfort zone and not confident enough to verbalize what you would like to say. Alas, you try.

“I feel the same way, we’re not in a good place and I’m confused about what to do-...I just want what we used to have.” You confess a bit of your true feelings but ignore the longing look Jungkook gives you.

“When did you start feeling like the relationship was changing?”

“Fairly recently. We were fine, at least I thought we were until I saw him with another girl back in an old lifestyle that I thought he gave up...”

Seojoon diverts his attention away from you and to Jungkook. “Jungkook, do you want to share a little bit about that?”

“Not really,” He answers honestly at least.

“Why not?”

“To be honest, I don’t know why she keeps throwing the same jab at me. I’ve told her the truth but she doesn’t want to hear it. I went out that night,” He almost glares at you, “I didn’t plan to. I ran into an old friend and I just-...I thought it was harmless and I got caught up...”

Seojoon scribbles something down. “Okay, so can you fill me in a little bit. Are we talking about unfaithfulness? Addiction?”

“Unfaithfulness,” You interject. “he said he didn’t cheat on me but...” You mumble, your confidence faltering for some reason. “It’s hard to believe that.”

“But you think he did so you have some distrust. Were you unfaithful, Jungkook?”

“It doesn’t matter if I say I did or I didn’t, she thinks I did.” He shrugs.

”Y/n,” Seojoon puts an end to the death stare you had on Jungkook, “can you tell Jungkook what cheating looks like to you?”

”Not sleeping with her doesn’t mean you didn’t cheat on me. Letting her put her hands on you- And I don’t care if it was just a kiss! You shouldn’t have been in that situation, and for me to have to see it on social media? I could have killed you I was so mad. You should ask Jungkook what cheating is to him. We obviously have different standards for defining it...”

”What does cheating look like to you, Jungkook?” He heeds your suggestion without any push-back.

”To me,” He hesitates, feeling a bit scrutinized, “it’s when a person violates the intimacy of the relationship by giving it to someone else.”

“What kind of intimacy?”

“Emotional, physical, every kind,” He turns to you, “I wouldn’t do thingst that I do with Y/n with anyone else, not by choice-”

“Yes you would! You did...Are you trying to tell me that you were assaulted? That she forced her way on you?”

“I was blitzed! I don’t fucking know. All I do know is that she got on top of me and I pushed her off. That’s it. I swear, if anything else happened, I don’t remember it.”

“I don’t care. You know what I’ve been through, to even allow another girl to even get close to touching you like that...It was a slap in the face.”

Seojoon’s ears perk up at the mention of your past. “Did you have to go through a similar situation in a previous relationship?”

“Yes and he knows this. I was being cheated on before and the guy had a literal baby on the way throughout our entire relationship...It was traumatizing.” It stings his ears to hear you say that. But it’s true, he knows your past and he didn’t let it stop him.

“What happened must have triggered you,” You nod to yourself, “but you’re here to try to work through forgiveness and build trust. If you two are comfortable with it, I’d like you do do two exercises; one here and one when you’re alone. The first one that you’ll do here, I need you to face each other, preferably close, and I have some questions for you two to ask each other.”

“Like this?” Jungkook answers instantly and turns to you, getting closer to you than he has in weeks. You face him slowly, eyes wavering a bit. His face has always been a soft-spot for you, staring at him makes you feel weak.

“Actually,” Seojoon stands up, gesturing for you to do the same, “two chairs might be more comfortable, yeah? Let’s go to my other room.”

You follow Seojoon to a small room with three chairs a small table in front of them. Jungkooks pulls seat out so they’re facing each other. When you look up to acknowledge him with deliberate eye-contact, for a moment he thinks you might be softening.

“I want you all to start with ‘I’ statements, tell your partner how you feel or how you felt in this case. Try to maintain eye-contact and truly listen to each other.”

“I’ll go first,” You volunteer because you want to get this over with.

“I feel alone and helpless when you go back to your old habits, I feel like you’re hiding things from me...” You find a way to keep your eyes-locked to his.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect but I just want you to make me feel special to you...Like you wouldn’t dream of being with someone else. Because I don’t think of loving anyone else, and trust me I’ve tried to imagine it but I can’t,” You bite your cheek to keep from crying, “you make it so hard to trust you. You don’t listen and you don’t change until it’s too late.”

Being emotionally inept is something you are both too good at. It’s difficult for you to share your true feelings with a clear mind, but when you do, you can never guess what will happen next.

“I feel trapped by you. I know I fucked everything up, okay? You don’t have to keep reminding me.” His tone is harsher than you anticipated.

“I’m trying to put in the fucking effort to help us, and I’m giving you time. But when you tell me you still want me but you won’t even let me come around, it’s confusing. You’re confusing, that’s just how I feel.” His brows furrow and you notice Seojoon watches the exchange intently.

“But I miss you and I want you back, I don’t want to take a break,” He leans forward with his hands firmly gripping your knees over your dress, “I know you think I’m an asshole but I try to change, I’m trying, you know I wouldn't bring you to this if I could think of any other way to prove that to you.” The strain in his voice only stirs more emotions inside of you.

“Jungkook,” Seojoon calls his name softly and Jungkook looks over as if he forgot he was there, “try not to engage in any physical, okay? It can be overwhelming.”

“Sorry,” He takes his hands from you and sits back, “that’s all I want to say.”

“Alright, well, um,” Seojoon clears his throat, eager to break the tension up a little bit, “unfortunately our session is up but I want to give you two a list of exercises and talking points. I know this was a consultation appointment but I want to give you some things to work on at home. I’ll have Kelly type up your homework, alright?”

“Okay, thank you,” you both thank the therapist but you get up with an urgency and leave the room before Jungkook can follow you. When you make it out to the waiting room, you spot the bathroom and you bolt to it. Before you have to spend a car ride with him, you need to get your emotions together.

“Mr. Jeon,” The receptionist calls him from the hall, “this is for you, you can bring it back to the next appointment for a discount.” Jungkook halfheartedly thanks her before going to the car. He doesn’t even know if there will be another session. He needs to smoke before you come out and you’ll freak if he smokes while you’re in the car.

“Why did I come here...” You look at the mirror and frown, you look so rough. It was nice to get everything out in the open but you knew he’d get intense eventually. Only when the toilet flushed did you remember that there were multiple stalls in here. When you look away from the mirror to fumble through your purse, just trying to avoid talking to her.

”Hi, how are you?”

“I’m okay, how are you?”

“Oh god, nervous, I’m nervous. Me and my husband, we’re newly weds, our appointment is in five minutes and I really don’t know what to expect. Did you have an appointment with your partner?”

“I did,” You sigh, “it was-...It was fine, don’t be nervous.” In your attempt to comfort her, you find your self in a highly hypocritical position. “Me and my boyfriend, we’re different so ours was a little- A little chaotic but I think it helped a little,” You hesitate, “I don’t know.”

“That makes me feel a little better, hopefully my husband behaves himself,” She tosses her wavy brown hair over her shoulder and smiles, “well, it was nice meeting you.”

It takes you a moment but you gather the strength to wave goodbye and go face your boyfriend.

”Excuse me, Miss, I think your husband forgot to grab this.” The receptionist waves you over and hands you a little folder.

”Oh,” You try to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. he’s not my- We’re not married.”

”Oh, I’m sorry! He only put his last name on the appointment so I thought it was your name as well. Sorry about that, have a great rest of your day.” She bids you farewell with a flustered smile.

When you walk outside, you see Jungkook leaning against the car. You thought he might’ve been smoking but you can’t detect any small. That’s a relief.

”You feeling okay?” He questions gently.

You nod, hopping in the car with the desire to be home already. He gets in the car and glances at you from the corner of his eye, he worries that this might have been too much for you.

“Where do you want to eat?”

“There’s a ramen place down the street, that’s fine with me.” You suggest, eyes trained on your phone.

The air in the car isn’t tense or stiff, its just quiet. There’s a lot to unpack from the session and you figured Jungkook was thinking through it too. That’s why when you two arrived at the ramen shop, took your seats, and placed your orders, the silence was getting to be a bit too awkward for you.

“I like the new hair, you’ve never gone this blonde before,” You glance up at him, trying to start a conversation, “it looks good.”

“Thanks, it was an impulsive thing. I heard you decided to get back into pairs,” He brings the coke to his lips, “I was surprised to hear that.”

“Oh, yeah,” You figured he would find out soon, “I’m back with Lucas for the season.”

“Good for you,” That’s not a reaction you were expecting from anti-pairs-skating Jungkook. Then again, you know him well enough to know that he’s probably keeping his true opinion to himself.

“The receptionist gave this to me,” You pull the paper out of your purse and show it to him, “I think it has additional information.”

“Let me see,” You hand it to him, “hm, soul-gazing? What the hell is that...” He reads over the description and it makes him giggle. “Nonverbal communication between lovers, allows couples to explore intimate places in the relationship. We do this already, but it’s a little more than eye contact,” He recalls those dreamy moments that he used to share with you so often, gazing at you with a smile.

“We can try that later maybe,” You avoid his smile with a glance out the window.

“Okay. So, about the session today, I hope you understood where I was coming from...I didn’t expect to say all that, I’m sorry if it was too much.”

“Don’t apologize, I wanted to hear how you felt.”

“I’m sorry,” He extends a hand out on the table, hoping you’ll take it, “I’ve thought about what I’ve done and I’ve tried to repent for it. But at the end of the day, it’s up to you. But just tell this once, you miss us, don’t you?”

“I do, Jungkook...It’s just, I’m in a tough spot and I don’t- I don’t want to disappoint anyone or myself.”

“You’re talking about your friends or your family?” He frowns at the thought of either party trying to discourage you.

“My family doesn’t know anything about this, it’s my friends who are concerned for me. They saw me get hurt and they don’t want to see it happen again, they want me to be happy.”

“Don’t listen to them, all they do is talk shit about me and try to tell you what you need. The only people who have a say in this relationship is you and me. We choose what makes us happy, not them.”

“But I’m not happy,” And it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still being judged, “I’ve actually been depressed when I think about us, when I think about what we used to have and what we have now, how did this happen?”

“I’m sorry I did this to you,” He sighs when you finally reach out to take his hand, “I never mean to hurt you,”

“I want you back so bad sometimes,” You break, letting your true feelings out to him, “but just because I want it doesn’t mean I should, it’s always been hard for me to separate the two.”

“That never stopped you before,” He flashes that smile, the one you fell so hard for on the roof of his car.

“Now look where I’m at,” You take your hand back, “going to therapy with you.”

Jungkook took you home and sunset had passed, it was already dark. You found yourself inviting him in, hugging him longer than you should have when he was on his way out. Why were you holding on to him so tight? His bomber jacket lands on the floor and you relish in his arms, you haven’t felt like this in a long time. Maybe it won’t hurt to let him in, indulge. It doesn’t take long before you let him kiss you for the first time in weeks. It feels new, it can happen a thousand times and it’ll always feel new.

But then your phone begins to ring and reality washes over you like a cold shower.

“Wait,” You pull away from the kiss and slide off of the counter to his dismay, “I need to get that-”

“Ignore it,” Jungkook cups your jaw, trying to persuade you with longing eyes, “please ignore it-”

“I can’t, it’s my mom, something might be wrong,” You quickly answer the phone and walk into the living room. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at home, is something wrong?”

“You forgot, didn’t you? Your brother Leo, you were supposed to pick him up so he could stay with you for the night. me and your dad had to take Milo to his Taekwondo tournament for the weekend.” Your mother stresses over the phone.

“I’m so sorry! Mom, seriously, I totally forgot,” This is the worst possible timing, “doesn’t Leo have his license, he can drive here, can’t he?”

“We have the car. Don’t worry about it, it’s handled now, his friend came by and he’s staying with him.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how that crossed my mind,” You can’t help but feel as if you’ve disappointed her by forgetting such a simple thing, “I’ve been busy, I’m prepping for the next season, I’m working and in school, it’s a lot right now-”

The conversation ends with a cold lecture from her and a solemn goodbye when she hangs up. You massage your temples, and look at Jungkook who’s coping with the best part of his day being ruined by a phone call.

“Everything okay?”

“I forgot to pick up my brother, my mom asked if he could crash here but I forgot all about it..”

“When have any of your siblings actually visited you? Except for your sister when she needs a babysitter.” Jungkook always sports a defensive tone when your family comes into the conversation.

“He’s only come over a few times. But he has friends who live over here so that’s normally why,” You take a deep breath. “She sounded frustrated so I know she’s upset.”

”Don’t stress about that,” He comes in close, wrapping his arms around your waist. “your mom shouldn’t beat you up about that, especially since she knows how much you have on your plate.” He smooths down your hair and kisses your forehead gently. That innocent forehead kiss quickly migrated down to your neck and you bite your tongue.

”Jungkook, please,” You get out of his embrace and leave him longing.

"Why do you keep pushing me away? I know you, this isn’t like you. You push me away but never for this long,” He follows you to your bedroom where you kick off your shoes and take off you cardigan. ”If you’re serious about making this work again, you’ve gotta help me out a little here.”

You feel him looming behind you, so close that you feel the warmth of him on your lower-back, or is that his hand?

“You’re here, aren’t you? I’m being really nice right now,” You step away from him, “but you need to stop.”

“Stop what?” He feigns ignorance.

“If that’s what you were hoping for you should just go,” You pick up his jacket and hand it to him, “it’s not happening.”

“Ok, but do you mind if I stay the night?”

You stare at him in disbelief for a moment, debating whether or not that’s a good idea.

“Why? It’s not even that late yet.”

“I don’t want to make the drive home, I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He pleads, those big round eyes helping his case immensely.

“Fine. But you’re on the couch,” He looks a bit disappointed but he was expecting that, “I’m gonna shower, you can wait for me or use the guest bathroom if you want.”

With that, you walk off into your bedroom to get your clothes and then into the bathroom in the hall. Though you hesitated to let him stay, it’s really not a big deal now that you think of it. He’s stayed over more times than you can count so you feel no need to punish him by saying no.

Baby steps.

Jungkook falls into the couch, relieved and anxious—but mostly relieved. He was sure you were going to throw him out. When he hears the shower turn on, he begins to wonder what you might be thinking about, do you want him the way he wants you right now? If so, you’re hiding it pretty well. Just being in your home makes him feel comfortable and happy, that and your presence. You’ll be a while in the shower so he figures a few moments of relaxation on the balcony won’t hurt.

When you step out of the steamy bathroom, you hug your robe tightly to your body. Curious to see what he’s doing you peek out of the hall and see him on the balcony, shirt nowhere to be seen and smoke wafting from the little stick in his finger. Jungkook has always been a temptation, a forbidden fruit so to speak. You had one bite, and that’s all it took.

It’s a warm night, that’s probably why he’s showing all of the neighbors his tattooed glory, you giggle to your self at the thought. You run to your room to slip a t-shirt and shorts on so you can join him, you can indulge him in conversation at least.

“Hey, I was going to get a snack,” You open the sliding door and he looks back at you as he exhales a a cloud, “are you hungry?”

“I’m okay,” He puts it out in the ashtray, “thanks,”

“You didn’t have to put it out for me,” You step onto the patio and close the door behind you.

“I was done anyway,” He says that but he clearly wasn’t, he’s just being sweet, “how was your shower?”

“Good,” You sit beside him, “you can go ahead and shower if you want to, you know where your clothes are.”

“I will in a minute,” He looks out, enjoying the view of the city, “it’s beautiful out here...”

“Yeah,” You smile, reminiscing on the many moments you two have shared together on the balcony.

“So,” Jungkook sighs, probably reminiscing on the same thing, “do you want to do that exercise?...”

“Exercise?- Oh, the eye-contact thing, we can...” You turn to him and he does the same, “so, do we-”

“Shh,” He holds a finger to his lips, “we’re not supposed to talk,”

You swallow, eyes locked on his and his on yours. His eyes are so dreamy and mesmerizing, they always have been. This eye-contact is giving you a great excuse to analyze his face. The little mole under his lip, his cute nose and cheeks—you’re trying not to look at his body but it’s hard to do that right now.

He’s doing the same thing to you. Your eyes, nose, lips, he’s just taking it all in as if your a sculpture at a museum. Looking at each other like this reminds you both to see each other, to really see the human you both decided to love.

“Jungkook,” You know you’re not supposed to talk, “don’t cry...” You thumb the tears away from his cheeks, your motherly habits kicking in.

“Shit,” He wipes his cheeks, “I don’t know why I’m crying, I just-...I really love you, like, just staring at you really fucks me up.” He’s so emotional, it’s more endearing than anything.

You cup his jaw and kiss the apple of his cheek, then his lips. His hands are almost shaky when he reaches up to hold your face, you lead his hand to your face to let him know that you don’t mind.

“I love you too,” You breath, your head in the nape of his neck, “but I can’t do this, I shouldn’t...”

Once you realize you’re no longer in your own chair but in his, it’s too late to pretend you’re not equally as desperate. It escalates and the best and worst happens.

#quarters #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x you #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jungkook boxer!au #jungkook au #jungkook ice skatin #I don't know what this ending is lol

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dynyamight · 3 years

Note

here’s a concept: deku, a farmer boy goes out to the Wild West and encounters a cowboy kacchan. deku teaches cowboy kacchan to plant corn and take care of chickens. they then become close. after that they marry and are known at the “maize buckaroo duo.”

(this is so random hshshshsh. but the idea just sparked outta nowhere ;33)

i offer you, farmer!deku x cowboy!bkg you give concept. i create fanfic. ;33 i luv this idea & ilysm

—

When Midoriya registers the fast, loud gallops outside, hitting and snapping down on the ground, he ceases his movement, before smiling hard.

The Monday morning has just started, and already there’s excitement in his chest. Those familiar sounds gave him the absolute flutters.

However, that excitement drops. Daisy huffs, back kicking at the milk bucket in an annoyed fit. Midoriya hurriedly picks it up, before all their shared, hard efforts were to go down the hay. Literally.

“Sorry, sorry!” Midoriya urges the cow, quickly smacking his wet hands on the folded towel on his knee. Then, resting a short calm palm on her snout, he whispers reassuringly, “You did amazing, today. Let’s get you back on the field.”

After setting the bucket aside, Midoriya takes the rope around Daisy in one hand, and lifts open the gate with the other. Together, they slowly make their way out of the stables, more or less. Daisy steps on Midoriya’s heels, hurrying him up.

However, stepping outside, Midoriya already knows to turn to his left, instead of his right at the gated grass field. From the sounds he heard inside, he bets on seeing Dynamite, first.

And, sure enough, turning around the corner of the stables, the proudful stallion meets his eyes, neighing a loud greeting over his way. Midoriya halts Daisy and offers a small wave back.

There’s a small jolt from Dynamite, before he starts walking, at a quick pace over towards Midoriya. Finally, that’s when Midoriya sees Bakugou, riding on the back of the horse, the finest, leather saddle equipped.

Midoriya shakes his head, smiling up. “Surprising to see you, so soon. It’s not even sunrise, Kacchan.”

“How fucking rude,” Bakugou clicks his tongue, before stopping Dynamite’s steps with a small pull. He tips his black, cowboy hat down, though barely. “Not even a damn ‘morning’ my way.”

“You’re never one for pleasantries, anyway.” Midoriya teases, pointing at his hat. “You didn’t do a full tip, you know.”

“Tch, you ain’t special.” Bakugou huffs, “Be grateful.”

Taking a few steps forward, Midoriya pats the side of Dynamite’s face. “Good morning, boy! How are you, on this fine early day?” He holds in the laugh, glancing at the scowl Bakugou sends his way.

Dynamite doesn’t give any cues of delight. But, by the way Midoriya feels the stallion lower his head, and press firmly against his hand, it’s not too far-fetched to assume he loves the touch.

On the other hand, Bakugou swats at Midoriya, face twisted in disgust. “Gross! I don’t want that fucking creature’s juices all over him.”

Behind Midoriya, Daisy stomps on the ground. ‘The field, remember?’ Midoriya imagines her quip. And, from the wagging of her tail, she’s losing her patience. Quickly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou sneers aloud, speaking directly at Daisy, “Say whatever you want. But, I ain’t wanting your spoiled cheese on my damn horse.”

“That’s not what she’s upset about.” Midoriya deadpans. “And, what? Can’t handle milk, out of all things?”

“Milk that came straight out of her tit.”

“Where else would it come from? Trees?”

“Whatever, I just don’t want that shit on my horse, for fuck’s sake.”

Though, they couldn’t argue anymore about it. With a strong force, Daisy begins to pull Midoriya away, forgoing staying another second away from her beloved grass.

Fortunately, for Midoriya’s heart, Bakugou cues Dynamite to follow, trailing right next to them. “Damn, she reminds me of my hag. So fucking dramatic.”

“Your hag?” Midoriya questions, tossing a curious head over. “Is she your dog?” He guesses.

“My mom.” Bakugou corrects, nonchalantly.

Midoriya supposes the open expression of shock wasn’t concealed well, because Bakugou lets out a laugh, turning away with a fist to his mouth. “You’re such a mama’s boy.” He snickers. It leaves Midoriya red in the face.

It’s just he would never call his mother anything, but an absolute blessing. He loves her, dearly.

The moment they step onto the wide, open area of the field, Daisy tosses her head, wanting the rope around her neck off. Hushing her quiet and still, Midoriya loosens off the knot, allowing the loop to widen, and finally, pulling it over her head, free.

As Daisy trots away, passing through the sheep and goats, Midoriya’s surprised to see Bakugou pulling himself off Dynamite. Landing smoothly on his feet, leather boots shiny with clean spurs, Bakugou fixes his hat, showcasing more of his face.

His red meets green. “Nice farm you got building.” He compliments. “An improvement from before.”

Midoriya nudges him, with a dull elbow jab. “Stop, It looks the same.”

“That ain’t true.” Bakugou firmly states. “Two months ago, this place had nothing.”

“Well, it’s still not enough to open a public business.” Midoriya sighs, readjusting the straps of his brown overalls. ”I might have to pull out another loan, in order to afford some harvest equipment for my corn.”

“Tch, that’s why you should join the rodeos.” Bakugou insists, crossing his arms to his chest. “It’s the easiest way to make money, here. Good money.”

Midoriya looks back at Bakugou, unimpressed. “Says the state champion.”

Dynamite snorts, conveniently in tune to Midoriya’s mock. It causes a slight reddening in Bakugou’s face. He quickly turns back to his horse, munching on the grass. “Shut it.”

“Anyways, I’ll find a way. Rodeo, or not.” Midoriya continues, yawning in between his words.

“Geez, where’s your damn etiquette.”

“Left it back home. With all my sins and exes.” Midoriya teases, outright. And, despite the smack over his head hurting, Midoriya can’t help, but laugh. “I’m serious!”

“You’re so annoying.” Bakugou grumbles, digging one of his spurs on the ground. “Bringing up stupid shit.”

Midoriya shrugs, still rubbing the back of head. “I promise you, I was a lady killer, where I’m from.”

“Killing those poor, innocent ladies with your bad breath.”

Immediately, Midoriya raises a hand over his mouth, puffing out an air. Though, all he can smell really, is Daisy.

God, did that mean his breath smells like Daisy? The cow?

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Gullible Deku.” He simply states. “Your breath s’fine.”

Midoriya groans, and he tries to smack Bakugou back over the head. Though, Bakugou dodges his hand easily, leaning away.

“Making fun of a farmer on his own bought land, is an insult to his pride.” Midoriya huffs, taking back his hand.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bakugou mocks, a grin forming against his lips. “Make me work? Not a chance.”

With a lightbulb feeling running through his mind, Midoriya absolutely loves the off handed suggestion. “Actually, yes! You can help me feed the chickens!”

Turning his heels quickly, Midoriya smiles at the absolute panic in Bakugou’s voice. “Hah? What the— No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” Midoriya sings aloud, taking quick steps towards the gate. “C’mon, hurry up, now! Leave Dynamite out on the grass!” He calls out, as he opens the gates, and goes into a full sprint out.

By the time he reaches the stables, goes to his feeding cabinet, shelves crowded with plastic containers and bags of nutrients for his livestock and crops, and grabs onto the chicken feed, Bakugou has begrudgingly made his way inside.

“It smells.” Bakugou complains.

“Suck it up.” Midoriya laughs, before taking a plastic bowl off the shelves and setting it down on the counter. He pours the feed inside. “I bet the rodeos smell just as bad.”

“They don’t.”

“Well, you’re being paid to say that.”

Bakugou walks over to him, standing by his side. He leans on the counter, as Midoriya lifts the feed bag back into the cabinet. “If they did, I wouldn’t do them.” Bakugou states, narrowing his eyes. “Simple as that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Before Bakugou can insist otherwise, Midoriya pushes the bowl into his hands. He holds back a laugh, when Bakugou almost drops it completely. “Now, let’s head to the coop, shall we?”

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou grimaces. “S’too fucking early for this.”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up.” Midoriya reminds him, as they walk to the back of the stables, where the clucks of the chickens resound louder. “Which, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the sudden visit? Forgot to buy eggs, from yesterday's pick up?”

“Does it matter?” Bakugou questions, instead.

That takes Midoriya aback. “I mean, not really. But, we never meet on the weekdays.” He admits softly. He takes a moment away, to crack open at the tall, wooden gate at the end of the hall.

The chickens weren’t too active, thankfully. Several of them are still sitting perched and hidden inside the coop. Otherwise, only a few were already walking around outside the coop, clucking aimlessly.

Midoriya feels Bakugou lean close to him. When he looks, he notices a chicken had passed by Bakugou’s boots, with no pay to mind. However, Bakugou was visibly losing his mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” Midoriya smiles.

Bakugou scowls, glaring right down at him. “They got bacteria. Sick motherfuckers.”

For a cowboy, Bakugou has a keen distaste for getting unnecessarily dirty. It never fails to surprise Midoriya. “Well, just wash your clothes when you get back home.”

“I got other shit to do after, you know.” Bakugou growls.

“Again,” Midoriya sighs, “You’re the one who chose to be here. I’m simply utilizing you.”

As Midoriya leads Bakugou over to the coop, he grumbles under his breath. “Gonna have to pull another loan, if you want me working for your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, he ignores the silly comment, and instead gestures at Bakugou to start throwing the feed at the nearby chickens, surrounding the coop. When he stares back, confused, Midoriya remembers the guy’s not a farmer in the slightest. “Start throwing the feed.”

Bakugou hurriedly starts tossing small amounts. “I knew that. Thought you were gonna say something else.”

It’s hard to imagine what else an open hand in air would mean, but nevertheless Midoriya doesn’t argue. The chickens awake are already bustling over, surrounding the dropped feed in seconds.

Taking a handful from the bowl, Midoriya kneels down, going close to the small crowd of chickens. He notices some of them quickly waddle over to him, instead of feed dropped on the ground. The few that come to him peck at his hand, and it floods warmth to Midoriya’s heart.

“They prefer off the hand, huh.” Bakugou comments above him.

“I would like to think that they like me, but sure.” In seconds, the feed’s all gone, and the chickens wait around him for more.

“You should kneel down, too.” Midoriya offers gently to Bakugou, making sure his voice doesn’t startle the creatures. “Feed them off your hand.”

There’s an obvious hesitation, before Bakugou gets low, kneeling next to Midoriya.

One of the chickens tries to reach into the bowl in hands, in which he pulls it away quickly. “I’m getting fucking attacked already.”

“They’re eager.” Midoriya insists.

Dipping his hand into the bowl, Bakugou raises a handful of his own. He whips his head to Midoriya, glaring. “If my hand bleeds, I demand a lawyer to prosecute you.”

They don’t even hurt that bad. Though, telling Bakugou that would probably have him second guess everything. Hence, Midoriya shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Within a few seconds of only impatient clucking surrounding them, Bakugou finally puts his hand out. In seconds, the chickens start to peck at his hand, picking up all the feed quickly.

Midoriya stares at Bakugou. He’s cursing them out, demanding them to stop pecking so hard, for fuck’s sake. And, despite the apparent discomfort from the first handful, Bakugou goes for another handful, offering his hand once more.

Again, the cussing ensues, but it’s still all Bakugou’s free will. He could have stopped at the first hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he’s still kneeling next to Midoriya, feeding these silly, rambunctious chickens.

When Bakugou definitely had better things to do.

“Why did you show up?” Midoriya asks once more, standing up. The chickens have already departed, as Bakugou had tossed the rest of the feed from the bowl, out in the open. “You only buy my products on Sunday’s.”

“Why do you keep asking.” Bakugou reflects back, opening the wooden gate open for Midoriya.

Midoriya steps in front of him, back inside the stables. Once inside, hearing the wooden gate close, he turns around, facing him. “You know, I’m not letting you off, without hearing what’s on your mind.” He softly smiles.

Bakugou stares back at him. And, for an odd moment, his eyes scan all over his face, jittering, until they cease. “You’re making this a big deal, Deku. Just wanted to check up on the farm.”

Ah, that does make sense. “Oh my— Then, why didn’t you say that earlier!" Midoriya laughs.

Bakugou shrugs. “Again, it’s not a big deal. Now, where’s the damn sink?”

Midoriya leads them back to the entrance of the stables, where the sink was, alongside various cleaning supplies perched on shelves. They wash their hands, in silence.

They don’t say much either, when they head back to the grass field, to pick up Dynamite. Though, Midoriya doesn’t mind the silence. Bakugou has a limit to his social battery, and Midoriya has grown to know when it’s time to give him his quiet and peace.

After Bakugou sits back up on Dynamite, and they walk back to the open road, around the corner of the stables, he slightly pulls the reins, causing the stallion to come to a stop. It causes Midoriya to look up, wondering if the cowboy forgot something, back in the stables.

Instead, there’s a slight flush in his cheeks. He coughs loudly, clearing nothing in his throat. “There’s a rodeo this Friday.”

Midoriya waits for the rest, but instead Bakugou says nothing else. “Oh, uh, okay? Will you be participating?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou simply utters.

Again, nothing else is said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, then.” Midoriya offers, despite the confusion in his mind.

“Are you—” Bakugou stops, inaudibly grumbling under his breath. “I mean, the rodeo ain’t too far from here.”

“Oh!” Midoriya’s genuinely surprised, “Who would have thought? That’s a shocker.”

“Yeah. You could go, even.”

“I’m not joining rodeos. No matter how many times you demand.” Midoriya laughs.

“No, to watch.” Bakugou corrects, though the moment he slips the words, it suddenly causes his entire face to go red. “Fuck, I mean, you could watch. Other riders, and competitors, or whatever the fuck.”

Midoriya can’t seem to understand where Bakugou’s coming from. This cowboy wants him, a new residential farmer, to watch a rodeo. A rodeo, which he has never seen in his entire life.

Though, if Bakugou’s asking, Midoriya’s heart will always simply agree. “I’ll go watch, then.” He reassures him, “And, I guess I’ll cheer you on, if you’re any good.”

Bakugou’s face calms, though there’s still a stiffness in his shoulders. “Cool.”

Midoriya thinks he wants to say something more, but instead Bakugou brings his thighs closer to Dynamite, squeezing him slightly. Instantly, Dynamite starts trouting off.

Before he can call out, Bakugou looks back at him. “Starts at 7 in the afternoon! Don’t be fucking late!”

And, just with a small kick, Dynamite starts racing off on the road, Bakugou leaving Midoriya only with his thoughts.

There’s not a lot of information about the rodeo, though Midoriya knows he will most definitely ask around for the rest of the details. Essentially, it’s a nearby rodeo, that starts at 7PM. Surely, there are others in town that know where exactly is the event.

Midoriya can’t help, but drift his focus away from the rodeo, and back to Bakugou’s distant figure. Against the morning sunrise, he looks so cool.

But, a farmer like him, attracted to a cowboy like Bakugou, is so embarrassing.

#star responds #thank you for the best idea ckai !!#basically: deku has moved states in order to build his perfect farm #however all he can produce rn is milk. eggs. and oddly enough corn #& at the start. he only had his trustee ol' cow his mother had gifted him #so. when cowboy bakugou drops by the farm one day. with his horse exhausted and needing a pit stop #he stumbled upon a farmer who literally had nothing #however. his kind gentle soul causes bakugou to willingly buy his milk. which he greatly pays for #after that. he stops by every sunday. to buy whatever products midoriya has in stock. or more or less HAS #& bakugou has a definite crush on the farmer. hence. the rodeo invite #midoriya finds him attractive and exciting. but not much else.#if anything he doubts bakugou would even be interested in a lame farmer like him #little does he know ;))#bakudeku #bkdk #ckatsudon #my beloved #FICLET

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