#but if they choose someone else to voice mario.....uh

[acrylicqueen]

Any particular reason why Illumination/Nintendo haven’t asked Charles Martinet (you know, the fucking voice of MARIO) to voice him in the MARIO movie?

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part 2, final

Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]

(masterlist here)

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

then he turns up at your door.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re aware of this because: 

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

and:

b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can go get some from my apartment?”

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

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

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

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

And then you freeze.

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

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

The blood is blue. 

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

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

Seokjin’s an android.

(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)

Seokjin’s a deviant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to your LED?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”

“Maybe I am,” you hazard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Much like Taehyung had.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“How did he—why did he deviate?”

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But. 

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

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

“Has Jin always been like that?”

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

“You love him a lot,” you say gently.

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

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

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

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

“That sounds great,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve missed this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s just, uh. One little thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A thing that people and deviant androids do.

A thing that Taehyung does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s nice.

“You seem happier.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re in so, so deep.

(But who can blame you?)

“I want to go outside.”

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

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

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

So what you say is: “Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)

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

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

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

(Whatever this is.)

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

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

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

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

(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)

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

You’re certain Taehyung will, too.

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

(So human.) 

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

Taehyung is enraptured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like love?” A whisper.

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

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

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

“Oh, Y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

You panic. Just for a second.

Taehyung doesn’t.

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

And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.

Namjoon is utterly charmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Loyalty. Dedication.)

(A breath.)

(Love.)

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

(More of him.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re staying late again.”

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

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

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

It’s unnerving.

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

“No,” you lie.

Yes, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that you would want to. 

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

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

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

It's hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he speaks.

“You’re avoiding me.”

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

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

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

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

“Why are you lying to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Independent?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(No one chooses you. Why would they?)

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

And then all the lights go out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung? What are you—”

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

“Taehyung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung, though, is intent on you.

“Y/n?”

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

“Yes?”

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

You don’t respond. Not right away. 

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

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

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

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

“I do. I want to be here with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the apartment is still bathed in darkness. But Taehyung navigates it easily, keeps you held close even in the dark, and you trust him. Even when you feel his grip loosening as he eases you down, you trust him, letting yourself fall back onto the softness of your bed. (Even if you want to keep hold of him.)

You wait and watch as the room starts to fill with light, Taehyung returning with the lit candles from the kitchen before setting out more, laying out all the scented candle jars you’ve had stashed away. The familiar surroundings of your bedroom are bathed in warm, dancing light, Taehyung’s shadow a multi-faceted silhouette that shifts each time a flame sputters.

He looks up once the final candle is aflame, meeting your eyes—and you don’t feel the need to drop that gaze, to glance away, pretend you weren’t watching him, entranced. Because he welcomes it. He grins at you, toothy and bright, and your own lips split into a smile.

“I guess it’s a good thing I like candles, huh?”

“They’ll help keep the room warm,” Taehyung says, and, that’s right, you hadn’t thought of that. 

No power: no heating. The longer the power is out, the colder it’ll get, the chill of the hard rain filling the world outside.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, setting the lighter aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”

There’s nothing behind those words. No implication at all. And yet you find yourself flushing, looking away from him, flustered.

There’s a beat of silence as you keep your eyes turned away from Taehyung, looking at the shadows on shadows on shadows that ripple across the walls—and then you hear how his bare feet shift across the floor until he’s at your bedside.

But he doesn’t stop there. You feel how the mattress dips, eyes flying back to the android, growing huge and round when you watch how he settles himself above you; hovering, so so so close, aware of how he’s not touching you, and yet. You swear you can feel the weight of him, a phantom touch on your body and across your skin.

Your mouth goes dry when he murmurs your name. The word drips from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet, and a shiver skates up your body.

“Do you want me to keep you warm?” He asks, and, oh. Oh. This time the words are heavy with meaning, shimmering gossamer curtains barely drawn to conceal it, smouldering intent in his eyes. “Let me look after you?”

You’re reminded, all at once, that while you’ve taught Taehyung a lot of things since you’d met, there’s one thing he knows that you don’t. Intimacy, and pleasure, and lust. Sex. Something you’ve been deprived of, even if you’ve quietly craved it, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person.

Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.

“Only if you want,” he says. “Only if you want to say yes.”

“I want to,” you say, surprised by how fast the admittance leaves your lips. You do want it—want Taehyung, in every way he’s willing to share, want it desperately. “I just—” Embarrassment floods over you, and you look away again. “I’ve just never… done anything. Before. I’ve never, um.”

“It’s okay to be a virgin, Y/n,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but squirm a little at how plainly he says it while you try to avoid saying it out loud, even if you know it’s stupid. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know that, but for some reason you feel almost ashamed at admitting it. Insecure. Even if the android clearly doesn’t care, not one bit. “We can go as slow as you want, or stop altogether. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”

You’re nervous. But louder than your nerves is a growing voice that’s chanting yesyesyes, and another voice that reminds you: you’re safe with Taehyung. No matter how nervous or uncertain you are, or how little you know, you do know that you’re safe with him.

“Okay.” You take in a breath. “Take care of me, Taehyung.”

And he does. With all the slowness of a meandering river and a smile curling his lips, he starts to kiss you again; there’s nothing rushed about his motions, as tender as before. Like the two of you could kiss forever and he would be content with that. 

And then you feel how he shifts, the softness of the kisses warming into something heavier, more purposeful. The glowing embers of a coal that are being coaxed to full flame, his tongue pressing past your willing lips, swallowing down the shaking gasp that shudders out of your mouth.

He trails his lips away from yours, across your jaw and up; you shiver as he noses at the soft skin behind your ear before kissing it, tremble at each intent touch of his lips against you, and it’s only when he reaches the hollow of your neck that you realise that you’re making noises, little inhalations of air each time he mouths at your sensitive skin, lets his tongue trail across it.

You’ve been holding onto him, hands cupped around the back of his neck, and when he sucks at your pulse point you tighten your fingers and let out a gasp. You can feel the answering hum that Taehyung gives, his mouth pressed so close that you can feel the vibrations, and it’s so much already. No one’s ever kissed you like this. No one's ever eased their weight down on you so carefully, pressing you down to the mattress with a delicate, delicious pressure that leaves your entire body growing hotter and hotter.

“Oh, oh, Taehyung.” You’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sound if you weren’t so distracted by something else—one of Taehyung’s hands, splaying over your stomach, heavy through your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He’s murmuring into the crook of your neck, question warm against your skin. His long fingers rest, waiting at the hem of your shirt, patient even as he presses another kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder: this time, edged with teeth, making you shudder as he soothes it with his tongue.

Your voice fails you, but when you nod, Taehyung responds immediately. You let him lead, follow the steps of this dance he knows so well—shiver at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt once you've sat up, your stomach jumping as they brush against you, before he lifts it up and over your waiting arms.

Even though you’re wearing a bra, the second you see Taehyung’s eyes move down, you cover yourself reflexively. Even with all the flickering candles there’s enough light that there’s no darkness to hide in, shoulders hunching inwards as you try to hide yourself away. 

You’ve never let anyone see you like this like this before.

Taehyung’s touch is patient as he slides his hands over yours, looking at you with an infinite amount of sincerity and affection. He doesn’t try to pull your hands away from your chest, just waits. Patient. And like you always do, you find yourself melting under the gentle touch of his gaze. You let your hands fall, even if you’re acutely aware of the plain bra you’re wearing, something cosy for a day at home.

Taehyung ignores it. He shifts in and you steel yourself, expecting him to reach around your back for the clasp—but instead he starts to kiss you again. Deeper, hotter, his tongue sweeping over your lower lip before he nips at it. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, angling your head to chase his mouth, and it’s only when you feel the straps start to slip off your shoulders that the android has unclasped your bra without you noticing.

When he pulls away, he trails his hands across your shoulders and hooks his fingers into the trailing straps of your bra, and waits. You bite your lip and steel yourself, feeling foolish even as you hesitate—because Taehyung is looking at you with simmering awe and smouldering want. Like you're perfect. The most beautiful woman alive. 

So you don’t stop him. You let him pull his touch down your arms, slow, slow, slow—and then, all at once, you’re completely naked from the waist up.

That simmering awe and smouldering want is still there. Warmth flushes over your skin under the heat of his gaze, the way it sweeps over you. You never knew that someone could look reverent and hungry at the same time. Never knew that someone would look at you like that.

It bolsters your shaking confidence, helps you lift your chin as you lean back on your hands, and you’re entranced at how Taehyung follows. Caught in your gravity. He raises his arms, bra cast aside and long forgotten as he cups the weight of your breasts in his hands.

Oh, oh, oh. When he pinches one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger—already hard, sensitive—it’s already so much, but then he bows his head and—

You hear a noise, and you realise that it’s coming from your own lips. A shaking gasp that trembles in the air as Taehyung sucks and licks, dragging his tongue against your nipple; one, and the other. You fall once more to your back and he goes with you, relentless even as he stays slow and you arch your back helplessly towards him.

“More?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Oh, God,” you whimper, and he lifts his mouth away from your nipple to press a kiss to the skin above your racing heart. “Please, more.”

It feels so good. Taehyung makes you feel so good, as talented and gorgeous as he is, so wonderful. He keeps laving attention on your breasts, hands skimming over the soft skin of your chest and stomach, goosebumps rising in the wake of his trailing fingers, his warm palms.

You can’t look away when he finally pulls back, breathless from the sensation of it all. He settles on his knees, tugs off his hoodie and then his shirt, revealing all the lovely planes of his body that you’ve seen before, but this time, you don’t have to look away. You can look.

And you can touch, too. 

You sit up and raise a tentative hand to stroke down his chest, his stomach, that little trail of dark hair that descends into his loose grey sweatpants; your mouth goes dry at the sight. Taehyung watches the way your fingers drag over his skin, growing bolder moment by moment, but still too timid to venture past his waistband, low on his hips as they are. You’ve never had a chance to touch someone like this, to feel the smooth, soft skin under your greedy palms—Taehyung’s so warm, so alive. So human.

You think about the other hands he’s had on his skin. Grasping and greedy, taking and taking. People who didn’t care for him. People he couldn’t say no to. But he’s here with you because he wants to be. He lets you touch him because he wants it.

“Angel?” 

You glance up at the sound of the gentle pet name, away from where your hands have been tenderly tracing the lines of his hipbone. “Mm?”

Taehyung’s expression is soft and affectionate. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” you answer honestly. He leans over to kiss you, and you’re smiling against his mouth when you feel the hand on your shoulder, pressing you down against the mattress again.

Then. His hands are at your waistband. Your breath quickens, but Taehyung’s eyes stay on your face even as your breasts rise and fall, shining with evidence of the touch of his mouth and tongue.

You lift your hips, and Taehyung smiles. Keeps smiling as he strips you, underwear and all, and when your thighs instinctively go to close shut, he catches your knees and keeps your legs open—gentle but firm, swiping his thumbs up and down the side of your knees, a tender touch even as you’re naked in front of him. You see the look on his face, drenched in candlelight, and swallow even as you force your legs to relax.

Then he looks down.

“Oh, God,” he groans, and one of your legs jumps in his grasp at the sound of his voice. Hoarse and deep. Almost unrecognisable. “Oh, angel, look at you.”

You’re so, so wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, so sensitive and responsive to every single one of Taehyung’s touches and kisses. The edges of his hair are spun gold in the candlelight but his eyes are so deep, so dark as he drinks down the sight of you spread out in front of him, wet and wanting and willing. You still want to hide away, cheeks burning, but you can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from how he seems almost pained, brows drawing together as he stares at the shining, flushed lips of your cunt.

“Taehyung.” Your voice shakes. “Taehyung, please.”

You're naked and vulnerable but—but the way he looks at you is so adoring, and you trust him. You trust him.

Just like earlier, his hands cup the back of your thighs. But this time, it’s not to carry you. You twist on the bed when he ends up eye level with your dripping cunt, utterly exposed. Those hands slide up your thighs and under your hips, tilting them up. Your fingers have been resting on the bedspread and tighten in them, bunching in your grasp when Taehyung presses a kiss to the softness of your inner thigh. 

One kiss. And then another. And another. His breath is warm as it curls out across your skin. You feel like you’re about to shake out of your body, wanting to pull away, wanting to lean in; wanting more, even when it feels like too much. Overcome with it all, even if you trust Taehyung. Safe under his hands, his lips. All you can think about is how close he is, face only inches away from your most sensitive parts—

Then he turns his head and—

The noise you let out is almost a keen. His mouth is on you, hot and wet, lips and tongue, and you’re writhing, overwhelmed with sensation. He starts slow, balls of your feet digging into Taehyung’s back and toes curling as he mouths at you. Your hips buck, and your hands are tangled in Taehyung’s hair—when did that happen?—as you sob at the feeling of his lips around your clit, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but so so so good. 

He licks a fat stripe up your entrance and your grip tightens in his hair. He makes a noise when your nails drag across his scalp, almost a growl, face still buried between your legs as he presses his tongue in. You’d worry that he needs to come up for air, but he doesn’t, doesn’t have to stop—keeps licking and kissing and humming, responding to each of the sounds pulling out of your lips. Keeps staring up at you, your eyes locked, the way you can’t look away from the sight of his head between your legs, dark haired and incredible.

You don’t realise you’re speaking, words slipping out of your lips as your hips roll, oh-oh-oh, fuck, God, oh, and Taehyung doesn’t stop. On his knees, he worships you, learning what you like—things you didn’t even know—and does it again, and again, and again. One of his hands slides away from your hips and over your stomach, holding you down, keeping you still, and then the other hand—

He turns his head, presses a kiss to the junction of your thigh. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, shaky and weak. So okay, more than okay.

“Going to finger you now,” Taehyung says, and you feel like you’re going to die.

“Okay,” you say again. “Okay, Taehyung.”

He smiles at you before he puts his mouth back to your clit, sucking, a welcome distraction as—with all the languidness in the world—presses a finger into you.

You’ve fingered yourself before. You’ve got your own toys, vibrators, things that are longer and thicker than just one of Taehyung’s fingers—but this feels so different, out of your control. One finger becomes two, your cunt so wet that the slide in is easy, slow, deep thrusts of those long fingers inside you, and you’re panting, you’re so fucking overwhelmed.

And then he curls those fingers as he laps his tongue over your clit and you almost shout, Taehyung’s name bursting from your lips as he keeps beckoning with those fingers and circling the sensitive nub with his hot, wet tongue. It’s so much, it’s so fucking much, it’s so good and you’ve never felt so good before—

You’re almost blindsided by the orgasm that explodes through you and you come apart with a sound you didn’t realise you were capable of making, a gasping moan that keeps unfurling as Taehyung keeps his mouth on you, feeling each pulse of your cunt as you cum around his fingers, tight-tight-tight. (You miss the way his hips kick into the mattress that the sounds you’re making, how much you tighten around him.) You never thought you’d be so loud, never thought you’d end up all but sobbing as Taehyung eventually leans back, candlelight brushing shining gold over the wetness over his mouth, his chin. Your wetness.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

Little jolts of pleasure are still wracking through you, pulsations of pleasure that unfurl in your lower stomach; Taehyung rubs the pad of his thumb across your oversensitive clit and your entire body jumps, your legs going to snap shut as you gasp, only stopped by his body in the way. You realise, then, that his fingers are still curled inside you, and you shiver.

“One more,” he says, and your whole body shakes. “Can I give you one more?”

He still looks reverent, and hungry. Like he wants to devour you. Taehyung is usually so soft, a gentle summer breeze—but right now he’s so intense it might scare you if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Taehyung, and there’s something—there’s something about knowing that he looks like that because of you. 

You let your legs fall open, watch how pleased he looks; how grateful. Like he's blessed to be able to do this to you. For you. You’re still so sensitive when he lowers his head again, but he’s slow and patient and coaxing, two fingers becoming three, and—that’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it feels good, Taehyung knowing exactly what to do to make you sob, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pulls you along that line between oversensitivity and mind numbing pleasure. This time, when you cum, it’s with three fingers buried deep in your cunt, the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit, back arching as you throw your head back and cry out. Your pussy throbs and it's so dirty, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you, the slick sound of movement as you moan, and moan, and moan.

No one's ever made you cum before. Only you. And now you know what it's like to put your pleasure in someone else's hands, to have them intent on making you feel good, so good, and it leaves you dizzy. 

He’s praising you, you note dimly. He’s praising you, how well you’re doing, how good you are for him, and it leaves you feeling warm. You’re panting when Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you, moves so he can brace himself on his elbows and lean in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his skin against yours, chest to chest, his weight pressing you down and then you can feel—

You let out a noise against his lips. There’s nothing else that can be, that hot weight. You might not have felt it before, but you’re not stupid. That’s Taehyung’s cock, his hard length pressed against you.

“Taehyung,” you murmur.

“Mm.” He brushes his nose against yours, and the wave of affection that crashes through you is so strong it feels like it could pull you under. You didn’t realise that sex could be like this—that lingering shockwaves of pleasure could be skirting through your body as you lay there naked, still aroused and almost overcome, but also feeling so warm and soft and tender, too. 

You feel lax after cumming, a little more confident, bolder—and the noise Taehyung makes as you clumsily grasp at him through his sweatpants is incredible. You feel like you could get high on it, the way he sucks in a gasp as his mouth falls open, even if you don’t know what you’re doing as your fingers wrap around cloth and hard heat.

“Please,” you start, then stop. Swallow. “Please, Taehyung.”

You want so much you feel like you could pass out. You want to feel and touch and taste; you want everything you haven’t had a chance to experience yet, want it with Taehyung, someone who you trust. Someone you love. Someone who knows far, far more than you—will always know more—and you want to learn that from him. 

“Want you,” you say, and Taehyung looks pained all over again. He wants you, too.

“Fuck.” The word is rough, and you’ve never heard him curse before. The way he says it has something in you singing, as strange as that might be; you don’t think you’re ever going to get over how much you affect Taehyung. “What do you want from me, angel?”

Everything, you think. I want everything. 

“Let me see?” is what you say, squeezing your fingers around Taehyung’s length, feeling the way his hips buck into the touch. “Please?”

You never thought that someone taking their clothes off could be artistic. And yet, there’s something about Taehyung moving to stand and stripping off the rest of his clothes that’s completely arresting and beautiful; carnal and holy, all at once. You don’t even realise your mouth is open as you sit up and watch him, moving closer as you drink down the sight, the way he’s naked in front of you.

Taehyung. Naked. Naked and beautiful and hard, and it’s so overwhelming, everything about it, how much you want and how—oh, God, how big and thick he is, obvious even to you, someone with nothing to compare it to. Holy fuck. Should you think that his dick is pretty? Can dicks even be pretty? Taehyung’s is. Of course it is. He’s gorgeous all over. Maybe you’re biased because it’s him, but there’s something about the sight of his hard cock, precome gathering at his slit, that makes your mouth water.

Taehyung goes to say something, but before you can lose your nerve, you move forwards, and whatever he was going to say is lost in the sound of a choked off groan. He tastes like salt and musk, hot under your inexperienced hands and mouth, and you don’t know what you’re doing but the noises he’s making, fuck. You run your tongue up the throb of a vein you can feel on the underside, and all you can think about is how big he is, slow and careful with your teeth and lips as you try your best to do whatever feels good for him. 

His noises seem almost frantic but Taehyung’s hands are gentle when they comb through your hair. You look up. There’s a flush on his cheeks—red, not blue, you notice—and you pause, pulling off, suddenly shy after the burst of confidence that had you swallowing his cock down.

“Is this—is this okay?” You’ve still got your fingers wrapped around him, and maybe it’s a little ridiculous to be asking with spit and precome shining on your lips, but Taehyung’s answering smile is so affectionate.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and you know he’s not just talking about your clumsy blowjob. “Do you want to stop?”

You bite your lip and pump his length, which has Taehyung sucking a breath in. “I—what do you want?”

Something flashes through Taehyung’s eyes, and it feels like there’s electricity shooting down your spine before that look disappears. “This is about you, angel,” he says. “We can worry about what I want next time.”

Next time. This is the first time but it’s not the last. Oh, God. God.

Taehyung takes advantage of your distraction and hikes you up and away from the edge of the bed. It leaves you breathless, knowing how strong he is, how easily he can move you, even if he’s gentle-gentle-gentle. He settles in the cradle of your hips, and he’s so close, naked body flush with yours, covering you. His cock is so close—he just has to shift a little, just a little, and—well. 

Before that, though, there’s something you need to know.

“Taehyung?” Your voice shakes but you have to ask.

“Yes?”

“Is this. Um. Does this feel good for you, too?”

You’re always aware of the fact Taehyung is an android, even if he looks and feels and is human, too. (It doesn’t matter that he’s made of metal and thirium and circuitry. He’s human.) You lift a hand and thumb at the soft skin of his temple, where his LED used to sit; you don’t know how to communicate that you love him regardless, that it doesn’t matter to you if he's a man or robot. But you’ve wondered—you know Taehyung was built to pleasure humans. Even if he’s been reacting, making noises, looks for all intents and purposes that he is enjoying this—what if it’s all programming? What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s something you want?

He leans into your touch. “Angel.” It sounds like the word is being scraped out of him, hoarse and deep, all dark heat. “It feels good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He rolls his hips almost imperceptibly, but you’re hyperaware of every motion, how close you are. Your breath stutters in your throat.

"I want you to feel good," he says. "I've wanted to feel you and taste you for so long. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to know what you feel like around me. Under me. On top of me. You make me feel so fucking good, you don't even know," and, oh, fuck, those words go right through you, settle deep in your belly, leave you breathless. Taehyung sucks at your pulse point and you melt, even as your skin feels like it's burning, so hot, every part of you so hot, so ready for him.

Taehyung’s big enough that you’re worried about how he’s going to fit, even if you’re slick and wet and so, so turned on—you know about the importance of lube, used it often enough by yourself, but when you mention it to Taehyung he just smiles.

“Don’t forget that I’m a sex android,” he says, and before you can ask exactly what he means by that, you feel the tip of his cock at your folds and the question dies on your tongue.

“Please,” is what leaves your lips. “Please, please, please.”

“Anything you want,” he says, and eases his hips forwards.

Slow, and hard, and wet, the head of Taehyung’s cock starts to press into you. You grab at his back, digging your fingers in; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, a not-quite-pain as he pushes in—but it’s a lot, even if the slide is smooth, so smooth, from your own wetness and the slickness that covers Taehyung’s cock. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and it feels—astonishing, the way you can feel yourself open up for him, the way it feels like he’s filling every part of you, throbbing heat.

“Oh, oh God,” you gasp. 

Taehyung’s forehead is pressed to yours, the loose locks of his dark hair framing his face as he waits, hips snug with yours. You shiver and move your hips a little, entire body seizing at the sensation of him shifting inside you. It's so new and alien, having someone nestled inside you, against you, so close in every sense of the term, above you, around you, inside you—but it feels… good.

And when he moves, it’s so, so slow. Slow and smooth as he works you open, even if you feel so tight around him. You drag your nails down his shoulder blades when he moves a little faster, a little roll of the hips that has you gasping all over again.

“More,” you say, and he gives you more.

You feel so full. You feel full of Taehyung, inside and out—the way his body is still pressing you down, skin on skin, how hot he is.

They call it making love, and it’s not until now that you really understand what that means—how you can feel Taehyung’s soft and tender affection in his every motion, read it in every shift of his body, the lines of his face, his lips; the way his eyes are dark but full of wonder, shining with love for you, pleasure singing through every inch of you, centred around Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Each noise that falls from his lips is an echo of that love. Even when he leans back and takes you with him—settles on his knees, pulls your hips from the mattress to stay connected to you as your shoulder blades dig into the mattress, his cock in your cunt—there’s tenderness there, even if you’re both chasing mutual lines of pleasure. You feel almost dazed, dizzy with love and arousal, reaching out for him, and he catches your hand. The other stays at your waist, guiding you onto him, again and again, each roll of hips into yours.

“Taehyung,” you gasp, voice breaking on his name when he thrusts into you. He’s been increasing the pace, faster and sharper, harder, and it’s so-so-so much, so good. “I’m—Taehyung, I’m close, I wanna cum again, pleasepleaseplease—”

He lets go of your hand and then he’s thumbing at your clit and you’re cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, Taehyung’s cock still hard and insistent inside you as you ride out your orgasm, pulsing around him. You’re gasping and making noises like you’re falling apart, and there’s something desperate in Taehyung’s eyes, something dark and wanton. 

“Angel, I’m going to cum soon,” he says, and you moan in response, hazy. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You shake your head no. You want to know what it feels like, to have Taehyung lose himself inside you. You’re about to reach out for him when he hooks his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up—you suck in a sharp breath as he starts to move again, almost bent in two, his face so close to yours. It's not rough but something about Taehyung taking control like that has you baring your throat, arching your back and throwing your head back. The hold he has on you is firm, and you feel how it tightens as his thrusts speed up, and then, fuck—

When Taehyung cums it’s around the gasp of your name, a hitching sound as he empties himself inside you, throbbing and hot. You let out an answering sound, the two of you locked together until Taehyung pulls out, careful and slow; you feel like a sweaty mess, empty without him inside you, but then his hands are so carefully cupping your face and he’s kissing you over and over and over. It leaves you feeling breathless, all those little kisses, struggling for air by the time you part, every part of you lax under his loving touch. 

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung murmurs, soft and sweet. 

“Good,” you murmur back. And then your nose crinkles. “Sweaty.”

Taehyung laughs, quiet and low. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you breathe him in. You do feel sweaty, and there’s an ache settling inside you, but it’s a good ache. A glowing ache, an unfamiliar one, but one that you know you'll get to feel again, with Taehyung.

You’ve just leaned back to take him in all over again, painted syrupy sweet in the golden candlelight—when the lights suddenly turn back on. It floods your eyes and you make a noise of surprised pain as you squint against the sudden brightness, but then you start to giggle, shock melting into laughter.

When your laughter dies you realise Taehyung’s been watching you. The room is full of shining light now, and you realise you’re still naked, entire body shaking as you’ve been giggling. You’d feel embarrassed about your nakedness if you hadn’t just shared yourself with him, bared yourself in ways that are more than skin deep. There’s an instinctual part of you that wants to cover up now that there’s nowhere to hide, no flickering shadows to cover up the parts of your body that you don’t like, the flaws you don’t want Taehyung to see. But he just looks fond, fond, fond, love and affection dripping off him as he watches the way you smile shyly up at him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says, and smiles back, wide and bright. 

You love him. You love him, and he loves you, and you trust that love. As hard as it might be to believe, you trust that this is what he wants—that you’re what he wants.

“Do you want me to carry you to the shower?” he asks, and you can’t help but laugh again, warm through and through, how he’s still taking care of you.

“Not yet,” you say. 

You end up against his chest, wrapped close. You’ve laid your head in his lap countless times, but he’s never been on his back before, never had his arms around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Taehyung might not have a heart, but the thirium pump nestled in his chest beats steady as you stay nestled against his side. 

You’re drawing little circles on his skin with your fingers when he catches that hand and lifts it to his mouth, presses a tender kiss to your fingertips.

“I love you,” he says.

You feel like liquid sunlight, shining happiness as you melt, melt, melt. And the feeling stays, body filled with it, even after Taehyung coaxes you out of bed and into the shower to wash the sweat off your body; when he drags a soapy loofah over your back you can’t help but laugh, so in love, so loved.

And when you fall asleep, it’s not with your head on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s with his arms around you, his chest to your back, his body curved around you. You don’t want tonight to end, but you also can’t wait for tomorrow, knowing that it’s another day with him, with Taehyung, your Taehyung. You never thought that love would be like this, never thought that you’d feel love like this, cared for and protected and loved, loved, loved.

“Not staying late?”

You pause in the process of shoving everything into your bag. Hoseok is leaning against your desk, a smile curling at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at you, almost suggestive.

“Nah, I’ve got a dinner to get to,” you say. 

“You seem a lot happier lately,” Hoseok comments, and when you don’t fall for the bait, he wiggles his eyebrows. “The girls think that you’ve got a secret boyfriend that you’re too shy to tell anyone about.”

Taehyung still greets you every day when you get home. But now, every greeting is punctuated with a kiss—and sometimes a little more. When you stop to think about it, it’s startling, this thing that Taehyung’s taught you. That the simplest of things can turn into something more, love edged with lust, that it’s all part and parcel of loving someone, being with them, being comfortable with them. Just the other day you’d been reading on the sofa, and then Taehyung’s fingers had curved over your thigh and the tablet had fallen from your hands—

Hoseok clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out again,” he says.

“I am not,” you say, zoning back in. “I was thinking about if I needed to buy any food on the way home.”

“To feed that secret boyfriend of yours?” Hoseok says, and you laugh in his face.

“Definitely not to feed the rumour mill,” you say. Hoseok pouts but it’s good natured, and he waves you off with a smile, letting you leave the office without trapping you in an interrogation for the gossip you’re certain your coworkers are hungry for.

It’s your turn to cook for Yoongi and Seokjin, so you’ve got to get home to help Taehyung. Both men had been spectacularly unsurprised when they’d found out about the two of you. Yoongi had remained calm as Seokjin crowed in delight, proclaiming I knew it, I knew that’s why you were avoiding Taehyung. 

“Feel lucky, Y/n,” Yoongi had said. “At least Taehyung has a sense of decorum and shame.”

“I think it’s a shame that my boyfriend is such a party pooper,” Jin had said. “I demand a dinner party! To celebrate your new relationship! Oh, I’m going to bake the biggest cake.”

“Oh my God,” you’d said, and Taehyung had just smiled.

The truth is that you’re grateful for your neighbours and their support, grateful for their friendship. Just because Taehyung looks human doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him, worry that someone might discover that he’s a deviant; Jin’s slipped under the radar for long enough, and you hope it’s the same for Tae, too. And yet you can’t help but think about it, think about the present, the future, how your lives are going to unfold as time goes by.

When the door swings open to your apartment, though, that’s the last thing on your mind. All that’s on your mind is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, your love appearing just as you’ve kicked your shoes off, all bright pink hair and dark eyes and welcoming hands.

“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.

“Hi,” he says, smiling so brightly, and then he kisses you.

You’re never going to get tired of kissing Taehyung; never going to get tired of how his mouth fits against yours, so perfect and sweet. But then he crowds you against the wall, swallowing down your gasp before kissing down your neck, running his teeth so gently across your skin.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, words dripping hot and slow. “Been thinking about you.”

“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Taehyung, we need to cook dinner.”

“We have time,” he says, and when he picks you up, you don’t protest. You go easily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, heat already gathering in your stomach as he walks the familiar path to your bedroom.

You have time: today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You have time with Taehyung, to learn with him, to love him. To be loved back. You don’t know what’s coming on the horizon, what the future holds—but then again, you never have.

There’s one thing you know now, though. No matter what happens, Taehyung will be at your side, and you’ll be at his. He wants you, and he loves you. You want him, and you love him. 

“I love you,” you murmur, and Taehyung kisses the words off your lips, lets the promise of your love settle inside him, warm and soft and safe.

“I love you too,” he says, and then you’re too busy to say anything, after that.

taglist:  @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove​ @jalexad​ @beingbeings​ @lorielulu7​ ​ (can’t tag: @jeon-joon-kook)

[turtle-go-brrrr]

4 times Leonardo was a dork and the time he wasn’t

Heya! I adore the "strong stoic character does something embarrassing or dumb" trope, and Leo has been left behing from that one. Also, my fervent Leo Simp Friend said these were all good ideas and I trust his judgment completely, so it's also for him. Enjoy, you Dork-ass Looser (affectionate) @weird-flex-but-ok

I have one of these "4 times ______ and 1 time ______" stories for each of them, I just got really inspired by him all of a sudden. But they're coming!

There might be a few typos here and there, but I really don't wanna wait any longer to post it :3

Requested: No

Pairing: None, platonic

Word count: 2500 +

Triggers: cursing, injuries, blood, intrusion

Summary: You were always sort of intimidated by the leader in blue, but a series of events shows you he might not be as serious as he wants you to think.

__________________________________________

First time

It took you a while to get along with all of them.

Not because you didn't trust them, or because they made it difficult, and certainly not because they're mutants. You're just not that good with new people, and you tend to shy away. Especially when you have New York's heroes in front of you.

So yeah. It took a while. But soon enough, you warmed up to your new friends, and you had a great time. Mikey was the first who made you feel welcomed, always asking questions about you and insisting you came to the lair in the first place. Donnie followed soon, after you started asking about what he was working on. It took a bit more work to get closer to Raph, but it turns out sarcasm was the way to go.

If only their leader was as approachable.

He never made you feel unsafe or unwelcomed, don’t get me wrong, he just kept a professional distance with you, which started to become quite painful as time went on. You tried not to take it personally, thinking he maybe was as shy as you were.

You had time anyway.

It was early in the evening when you made your way to the lair. For the first time since you met the turtles, you went there alone. You were a little nervous, thinking you might get lost in the maze of tunnels under the city, but figured you could just call someone if anything happened. Lucky for you, you found your way to your friend’s place, but not without hustle.

As you entered, you realized it was uncharacteristically quiet. The only sounds you could here were the faint music and the not so faint curses from Donatello’s lab. The smart decision seemed to be leave him alone, which is exactly what you did.

You haven’t been here long enough to know where to find the others, and as you didn’t exactly felt like staying alone in the living space, you tried finding your way to the dojo, as it was one of the other places you knew well.

Of course, now you got lost. Venturing into the sewers was fine, but walking into your friend's home wasn't, apparently.

You found something else, however. This particular tunnel led to a room you could identify as someone's room. You could see the large bed in the middle of the room, a small table with a bottle of water, a book, and a makeshift alarm. A set of twin swords were hanging on the right wall, just above a small bookshelf.

On your left was another table with a (healthy, you noted) bonsai tree, and next to that was Leonardo, facing a mirror. He had his right arm lifted up to his head, and was looking right to you through the mirror.

He looked absolutely horrified.

What the fuck.

He slowly rubbed his face in his hands, let out a long sigh, and turned to you, more tense than you've ever seen him. He cleared his throat as you pince your lips in a thin line to hold back a smile.

"Hello, Y/N. I... didnt think you'd come in so early."

Despite the badly lit room, you can see him bite the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah, uh, I didnt mean to... interrupt you," you say. Your voice is slightly shaking as it takes all of your willpower not to burst out laughing. And he definitely notices.

"You didn't! I uh, wasn't doing anything anyway. So, tell me- what brings you to the lair?" He asks, avoiding your eyes.

"Oh, Mikey invited me, he said I wasnt allowed to skip on movie night. You know how strong willed he is," you smirks, unable to handle it much longer.

Stiff as a board, you see the corner of his mouth twitching and hear him whisper, "... I wasn't flexing."

Silence.

You snort laugh hard enough to choke on it as you quickly turn around to hold yourself against the wall, the insanity of the situation crashing on you. Leo sat at the foot of his bed, head in his hands, and you could see him shake in repressed laughter once you wiped your tears away.

You sit next to him after finally calming down from the hysteria. He sighs, straightens his back and gives you a side glance.

"I'm not judging."

"You're still laughing, though."

"Yeah, but like, I guess I just wasn't expecting that. Still not judging."

He nods, still smiling. His voice is at least 3 octaves higher when he asks, "Please, don't tell the others."

"And what, give them the privilege of knowing about your little... ritual? Nah, don't worry about it."

_______________________

Second time

The second time your assumptions about the leader were subverted happended only two weeks after the... incident.

You had invited the whole crew to your place for the very first time, and they were all excited to come. You made a copious dinner: a few veggie cakes, chicken wings and a bowl of roasted potatoes. They were supposed to bring the drinks and movies, and April and Casey were in charge of the desert.

A perfect night, it seemed.

And it would have been if they could decide what to watch first without jumping at each other's throats.

"You guys need to grow up."

"Leave me out of thi-"

"Donnie's suggesting Velocipastor of all things and you think we need to grow up? Come on, Y/N, I thought you were better than that."

"Okay, first of all, how dare you. And second, this movie's a masterpie-"

"Yeah, because everyone knows that his supremior intellect means he's the only one who gets to choose a dumb movie. Why won't you guys watch Sharknado?"

"Supremior isn't a word. And it's because unlike you, peasants, I have taste." A devilish smile creeps up Donnie's face. The bastard is doing it on purpose.

"Peasants?!"

"You ugly-ass son of a-"

"Hey! Leave Dad out of this!"

"We could watch Shrek instead?"

You decided to go get some glasses in the kitchen, leaving the children to their stupid fight. Searching through your cupboard, you hear a crashing sound, quickly followed by utter and complete silence.

Oh no.

In insight, leaving them alone was maybe not the best idea. You were reconsidering bringing glasses into the mess as you made your way to the origin of the sound. And what a mess it was.

Your friends were all expressing shock in some way, Casey (surprisingly) being the most dramatic of them all with his hands right in front of his face and his jaw hanging open. They were all looking back and forth between you and another direction near the table.

The really cool bowl that held the delicious potatoes you made was broken on the floor. There was glass and potatoes everywhere, but the biggest shards were in a neat pile, right behind Leonardo, who looked like a deer in headlights.

"... nothing happended."

"I'm... starting to think it's a habit of yours," you say as you watch him not so discretely try to hide the broken pieces behind his foot.

"Look, if you keep putting your foot in there you're gonna hurt yourself. Just, step away a bit, will you?"

"I'm sorry I broke it. Let me help you clean up, I don't want you to cut yourself."

"It's okay! Don't touch it, I'll get a bag," you say as he starts to gather the biggest shards.

Won't even listen for one second, will he?

Raph was already picking up the untouched potatoes to put them in the plates on the table, and April went to the kitchen with you to retrieve the bag and cleaning supplies.

"Ew, Mikey don't eat that."

"Thirty seconds rule, baby."

"It's five seconds, you moron. And it's way over thirty anyway. Spit it out."

The rest of the night went on without further issues, but Leo still looked apologetic during the movie. Which is probably why he was standing before you as his brothers were leaving.

"Thank you for the evening. And I'm... sorry again for the bowl."

"Hey it's okay, man. Don't worry about it. As long as no one gets hurt it's not that big of a deal."

"I'll get you a new one." He doesn't wait for your answer and ruffles your hair before taking off.

"Text me when you guys get home!" You scream into the night, hoping one of them heard you.

______________________

Third time

It's surprisingly easy to mess with Fearless.

You were in the living room, getting your ass beat on Mario Kart by Mikey, when you decided to take a break for your stomach (and ego)’s sake. You made your way to the kitchen, where Leo and Raph were in a heated discussion. Raph looked

“I’m telling you, 4 inches is too small. What do you get from 4 inches ? Nothing. But 10 inches ? It really makes you feel something.”

…

What?

You looked down on the table and saw multiple ingredients lined up on the table, with a long piece of bread on the side.

Oh, sandwiches. Got it.

Leo’s back was facing you, but Raph gave you a knowing glance, one that said ‘do it’. So, you did. Not without a smirk, first.

“Oh, wow, Leo ! I didn’t think you’d be so open about that kind of conversations.” You open the fridge, hoping you can hide your smile behind the door.

“What ? What do you m-” His face falls. Raph starts chuckling next to you and it looks like Leo’s brain is rebooting. 

“I mean, I’m not judging. You do you, buddy, I’m happy for you. Just surprised you choose lunch time to talk about it.” And in other circumstances, you’d mean every word. But right now, messing with your friend is too good to pass on.

“No, hold on- I didnt mean- It’s not what you think ! I’m talking about sandwiches !” He tries to show you the ingredients currently on the table, but Raph decides it’s time to join the fun.

“Lying isn’t vey Bushido of you, Honor Boy,” he winks at you and you can’t repress a giggle.

He puts his face in his hands, knowing very well that the both of you ganged up on him but unable to save face. He just smiles, goes back on his chair and hides his head in his arms, hoping you won’t see how embarassed you made him.

“Hey, you like what you like. Have fun with your sandwiches.” You give him an innocent smile, pat him twice on the shoulder, and join Mikey back on the couch with a plate of grapes.

You could hear Raph’s light chuckle from the kitchen.

______________________

Fourth time

Mornings are hard.

And they’re even worse when you spent the whole night sewing an arm back together after a sword gave it a nasty cut. And getting glass shards off of your friend’s shell. And putting a bone back in it’s rightful place after a particularly bad fall.

Yeah. Long night. And a tense one, too.

Because with the physical pain came the chock and residual fears, the anger and blaming. Everyone was stil on guard, and all that tension was exhausting. You barely slept, too worried that one of your friend’s state would degrade if you didn’t keep an eye on them at all times. Which didn’t really help you get the rest you needed.

If you were hoping the morning would be kinder on all of you, you quickly realized that it was a mistake. While, luckily for the turles, the mutagen was already healing their physical wounds, the emotional exhaustion of the previous night was still heavy. Of all of your conscious friends, not one dared break the eerie silence.

It was weird, seeing them like this. But you couldn’t force yourself to say anything, strangely scared of what could happen. You resumed to making breakfast for everyone and bringing clean towels to the still sleeping feverish turtle in the medbay. Splinter and Mikey were at the kitchen table, quietly accepting your offering, when Leo came into the room from the medbay.

He was still half asleep, and in his drowsiness didn’t see the wall he accidentally ran into.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

Everyone turned to Leo, who it took a solid minute of staring blindly at the wall to realize what just happened.

Donnie was the first to laugh. It didn’t take long for april and Mikey to join, soon followed by Splinter affectionately patting his son’s arm. Leo smiled and shook his head, as their lighthearted laugh was contagious.

The leader in blue was more of a goofball than what you first expected, and you were grateful for it in the fading tensions of the morning.

______________________

One time he wasn't

When someone intrudes your home, especially at 4 am when you were sleeping in the next room, a lot of things go through your head.

Did they take anything?

Yes. Your bag with your wallet, some cash, your credit card, your ID, and a few fidelity cards from various stores. Your laptop. A set of keys. That one blanket Raph made you (probably to carry everything without making too much noise).

Why you?

Why not? Your apartment isn't isolated, but it's not exactly on a main street either. It was probably practical for them.

Were they armed?

Who knows. Maybe. Maybe not. Probably. Statistically, most likely.

What could have happened if you had tried to confront them?

A lot of things. Maybe, if you let them know you were awake and knew what was going on, without necessarily confronting them, it would have been enough to make them run away. Or maybe there were multiple armed people, and they wouldn't hesitate to use force if necessary.

Who knows.

Can the police find this person?

Statistically? No. At least, that's what Casey told you when you asked him. Unless they got really lucky, they won't find anything.

Or at least the stuff they stole?

Again, unlikely. Unless they can trace your laptop back to the guy, or someone can give a physical description and a direction, there's not a lot they can do.

What can you do now?

Call your bank. And your insurance. And your landlord. Let them know what happened and follow their directive, they'll guide you through their procedure and help you soften the blow.

Casey was the first person you called when you woke up this night, and he was at your place within minutes with two other colleagues (the closest he could find). He spent the rest of the night reassuring you, helping you with the phone calls, asking around for witnesses, but nothing.

It's weird, feeling unsafe for the first time in a place you had called Home for years. It's disturbing. You can feel the nausea your anxiety is giving you, and a headache starts to grow at the back of your skull.

You don't really like this feeling.

So when your turtle friends dropped by the next evening without telling you and you welcomed them with a swing of your favorite pan, let's just say reactions were split.

"I can hack into your computer to find its location if you want. Wouldn't be the first time."

"What?"

"What? I mean, I didn't do it for your location last time. I know all about your search history, though."

"We're gonna have a talk about boundaries and privacy once we're done dealing with that," you sigh. You crash down on the couch next to your friend and mindlessly watch him work.

Leo comes up to you and gently nudges your shoulder. "Hey, do you have a toolbox somewhere? We brought locks to put on your door and windows. You know, just in case."

You nod, quiet, and lead him to your room where you keep most of the most useful stuff you own, including but not limited to a toolbox and a first aid kit.

Your movements were almost mechanical as you retrieved the box and handed it to him, and you decided to help him put up the locks to keep your mind occupied.

He was concerned. You looked like you were still in choc, which he could completely understand. Getting robbed is awful in itself, but getting robbed while you're sleeping in the next room? Horrific, in his mind.

He was also furious. He couldn't be there for you. This person had the nerves to go after his friend, and what if you got hurt? He wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.

He noticed he was staring when your eyes met his.

"Hey. We're gonna do whatever we can to find them. We're also gonna focus our patrols in your neighborhood for at least a few weeks, until you feel better," he puts a hand on your shoulder. "It's gonna be okay Y/N. Trust me."

You look up to him, and when you look into his eyes, you know he means it. You let your head fall against his plastron as he holds you against him, a silent promise for safety.

"Hey shorty," Raph pulls his head into the crack of the door to address you. "Wanna learn how to fight? I can turn you into a death machine."

You heard the faint "Raph, what the fuck" coming from Mikey who was still in the living room.

You gave a small laugh as you got up, Leo following you closely to the living room.

"Hey! Fighting isn't for everyone. But I could make you a really cool taser, if you want."

"What's with you and tasers?"

"They're efficient."

The bell ringed and April came in holding 4 boxes of pizza, that Mikey assisted her with as soon as she set a foot inside.

You looked around at your friends as April brandished the pizzas like a trophy while Raph and Donnie went back and forth trying to decide who, between man power and electricity, would win in a fight.

And you realized that yes, Leo was right.

It's gonna be okay.

[javajunkieao3]

Never Have I Ever: Post-Series Fic

Ben Gross prided himself on being smart.  And falling in love with Devi Vishwakumar?  Well, that was just about the dumbest thing he could do.

           But, it happened anyway.

           He didn’t exactly know when, but somewhere between first grade and watching her dance with that tool, Paxton Hall-Yoshida, she had gone from the person he always wanted to beat to someone he genuinely hoped would win.  Because she deserved that.  After everything she went through with her dad and then everything after, she deserved a win.

           But, did that win have to be him?

           “Of course, it’s him,” Ben said, voice colored with defeat and just a hint of indignation.  He still hated losing.  Even if he technically wasn’t in this game.  Aneesa was waiting for him over by the punch.  “It’s always been him.”  

           Beside him, Eleanor said, “What?  No, it hasn’t.  After you took her to Malibu, she wanted to choose you.”

           Ben listened incredulously as Eleanor explained how she and Fabiana had talked Devi out of choosing him.  It was fucked up, and he was going to tell her as much, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Devi, imagining how different things would have been. It would have been him with her, not that glorified meat puppet.

           “So, just for the record, it hasn’t always been him.”

           Eleanor walked off after dropping her figurative bomb and he stayed rooted in place, not knowing what to do or think next.  He wasn’t used to this level of indecisiveness and he probably would have just stayed there, staring at Devi dance with another guy, if Aneesa hadn’t come over, sliding her hand over his shoulder.

           “Hey, I thought you were meeting me over by the punch,” she said, glancing over at where he had just been staring.  “Oh wow, good for Devi.”

           Aneesa looked up at Ben, noting the tense set of his jaw.  “But…you don’t think that.”

           “What?” he said immediately, finally looking away from the slow train wreck happening across the dance floor.  “I don’t care about them.  I mean, he’s a tool who, based on what I’ve seen, can barely read above an eighth grade level.  But, I don’t care.”

           “Uh, yeah, you do.”

           “Aneesa-“

           “Ben, I saw the way you were looking at them. At her.”

           He went to argue, but then realized he had no defense.  Aneesa ducked her chin to her chest.

           “Okay.  So, I guess I’m going to go now.”  She turned to leave, but then stopped, turning back.  “Don’t mess this up for her?”

           He didn’t know what he hated more, the implication that he would mess things up or the fact that Aneesa was maybe a little right. The song ended and he watched Paxton and Devi kiss before Paxton dipped his mouth to her ear.  Devi nodded at whatever he said, and then Paxton walked away, not letting go of her hand until the distance made it necessary.  Devi’s grin widened and Ben hated Paxton even more.

           Devi stood alone on the dance floor for a moment, seeming blissfully content, and then she caught his gaze.  Ben noticed that her grin dimmed slightly and then she walked over, clasping her hands nervously in front of her.

           “Look, I know what you’re going to say,” she began.

           “No, actually, you don’t.”

           She widened her eyes slightly.  “Okay.  Then, what are you going to say?”

           I know you wanted to choose me.

           “I’m happy for you, Devi.”

           It wasn’t what she expected, and not what he wanted, so they both felt out of sorts.  But then her shoulders slackened, a genuine smile spreading on her face, and Ben knew he did the right thing.  Because she deserved the win.  Even if it wasn’t him.

           “Thanks, Ben.”

           Paxton came over with two glasses of punch and handed Devi one, his now free arm going around her waist.  He gave Ben a lukewarm hello which, given their history, wasn’t entirely unfounded.

           “Anyway, I’ll see you around,” Devi said.

           “See you around, David.”

           Paxton looked at him strangely, but Devi only smiled wider.

-----

           There were only a few weeks left in the school year after the dance, and Ben did his best to keep his distance from Devi.  She hovered a bit after learning about his and Aneesa’s breakup, but then they all got busy with finals and then the schoolyear ended.  Ben was grateful for the time apart.  He didn’t know how long it took to fall out of love with someone, but he figured summer break’s three Devi-free-months should do the trick.

           That summer, he lined up a volunteer program to pad his college applications just like every other summer.  He was supposed to help out with pro bono work at his dad’s firm, but at the last minute his dad hired a law clerk instead so that he could bill out his time at a markup.  So, he was stuck with a retirement home.  Everyone volunteered at retirement homes, which meant it was the last thing Ben wanted to put on his resume.  But, there was nothing else left and it was better than nothing, so he grudgingly accepted a spot at one about fifteen minutes from his house and prepared himself for a summer of moth balls and stories about “the war”.

           Instead, he got Devi.

           “I thought you were working at your dad’s firm this summer,” Devi said.

           “Something came up.  Weren’t you supposed to do Habitat for Humanity?”

           Devi nodded.  “I had an incident with a hammer.  Apparently, you aren’t supposed to bedazzle it.”

           Ben smirked.  “You bedazzled your hammer?”

           “Oh, yeah.  I added feathers, too.  Honestly, it was an upgrade.”

           “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t want to take you,” he mocked.

           Devi shrugged.  “Probably for the best.  I mean, would you want a house built by me?”

           “You make a fair point.”

           “So, here we are,” Devi said.  “Slumming it at the retirement home.”

           “You may want to say that a little louder.  I don’t think the guy in the back with the hearing aid heard you.”

           “But, you know what, if anyone can make the best out this, it’s you and me, Gross.”

           She flashed him a smile and he felt it all the way down to his toes.  This was going to be a long three months.

----

           It turned out, Ben was surprisingly adept at being around old people, and Devi was an immediate crowd pleaser.

           “Even Marvin likes me,” Devi said.  “And I’m pretty sure he’s a low-key racist.”

           “Not that low key.  He specifically asked me to help him fill out a banking form yesterday because, as he put it, your people are good at that.”

           “Damn.  Remind me to not give him an extra pudding cup.”

           One of the long-time residents, Gladys, rolled by with her walker and said, “Benjamin, don’t forget my granddaughter is visiting this afternoon.  I told her all about you.”

           “I won’t forget, Gladys.”

           “Look at you, Benjamin.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Using the residents to get a date.  Honestly, it’s sort of genius.  If I wasn’t dating Paxton, I would totally use these guys to pimp myself out.”

           “Slow down, David.  Gladys came to me about her granddaughter.  I’m not that desperate.  I have options.”

           “Sure, you do, Ben.”

           “But, um, you and Paxton?  That’s going well?”

           He didn’t know why he asked.  You don’t ask the girl you’re in love with how her relationship is going, but he asked, and now he had no choice but to hear the answer.

           “Yeah, it is,” Devi said.  She tucked her hair behind her ears as she smiled, and Ben wished he could sink directly down into the ground.

           “That’s great.”

           “Yeah.  It is.”

           That afternoon, he asked Gladys’ granddaughter out on a date.

----

           Ben could always tell when Devi and Paxton were fighting by her mood.  She had never been good at hiding her emotions, and while in a relationship, that hadn’t changed.  He noticed it a few weeks in.  She went back into the employees’ area and shoved her bag forcefully into the cubby hole.

           “Did the cubby hole do something to you?” he asked.

           “No,” she said stubbornly.  “The cubby hole is doing nothing.  Which is the problem.  The cubby hole just sits there playing video games all day.  Which, sure, I can play some Mario Kart here and there.  I’m a team player.  But, at a certain point, enough with the stupid video games.  I am not dating freaking Yoshi!”

           Ben was quiet for a moment and then said, “I didn’t know a cubby hole had apposable thumbs to play video games.”

           She shot him a look, but then couldn’t help but laugh.

           “The cubby hole was a metaphor.”

           “Yeah, I caught on to that.”

----

           Ben found it remarkably easy to be around her, even as his feelings stayed rooted to the core, and at a certain point he became resigned to it all.  Maybe Devi was just one of those people he would always have feelings for.  Isn’t that what they said about your first love?  You could move on, but you never really forgot it.  So, he would love her and just move on.

           He dated Gladys’ granddaughter, enjoying himself but never really feeling anything beneath surface level.  But, she was nice enough, and Gladys was delighted by the pairing, even as the volunteer coordinator was not.

           “Just don’t have sex anywhere on property,” she had said in a huff.

           “I, uh, won’t.  Thanks for the clarification.”

           He was dating someone else.  He and Devi were finally sort of back to how they were before.  And then he accidentally ate pecans.

           “Oh my God, Ben, your mouth is getting huge,” Devi said, eyes wide with concern.

           “I am so sorry,” Gladys’ granddaughter said. “I thought the muffin was banana-walnut, not banana-pecan.”

           “Do you have an Epi-Pen or something?”  Devi barked at the terrified looking volunteer coordinator.

           “No, and even if we did, I don’t think we can technically use it on a non-resident.”

           “Are you freaking kidding me right now?  Do you see him?”  She pointed at Ben, whose face was rapidly growing in size.  “You know what, I’ll just handle it myself.”

           Devi dragged him out to her car, which was concerning since he knew she only just got her license the week before, and he also knew based on what she told him that her passing was a total fluke.  

           “I think I’d rather go into anaphylactic shock in there,” he said, already turning back toward the retirement home.

           “Don’t be dumb, Ben,” she said, forcefully pulling him back to the car.  “You are not going into anaphylactic shock.  I’ll take you to my mom’s office and she can give you a shot or something. She’s only a few minutes away.”

           He reluctantly got into the car, and Devi started her car, forgetting to put it into reverse before she pressed on the gas. The car lurched forward, nearly hitting the one parked in front of them, and Ben said, “Please don’t let me die in this car.”

           “No one is dying today, Ben Gross.  So, calm down, okay?  I got this.”

           It was not exactly a smooth ride, but true to her word, five minutes later they pulled into a parking spot in front of Dr. Vishwakumar’s office.  They burst into the office, Ben now leaning a bit on Devi as it became harder to breath.

           “I’m pretty sure I’m going into anaphylactic shock,” he gasped.

           “No, you are not.  You are fine.”  Devi’s words were calm, but her tone was not.

           Nalini Vishwakumar walked out of her office and stopped short when she saw Devi and Ben.

           “What in the world – Benjamin, what happened to your face?”

           “He ate pecans which, turns out, he’s also allergic to,” Devi said quickly.  “Can you give him a shot or something?”

           “Devi, you should have taken him to the emergency room!” Nalini said, rushing over to her daughter and Ben and bringing them back to an examination room.

           “The hospital was farther away.”

           Ben became to gasp for breath and Nalini hissed, “He’s going into anaphylactic shock.”

           Ben could barely breathe, but he managed a, “Told you.”

           “Well, how was I supposed to know!”  Devi said loudly.

           One shot of epinephrine and an IV full of antihistamines and cortisone later, Ben could breathe again, but Nilani made him stay for a while longer so that she could observe him.  She put he and Devi in one of the unused examination rooms, and told them to let her know if he had any more trouble breathing.  Devi sat next to him, her knees pulled tight into her chest.

           “I’m sorry that I almost killed you.”

           “You’re not getting valedictorian that easily.”

           He was joking because, yeah, his throat had almost closed up and she probably should have taken him to the hospital and not her mom’s office, but it was fine now.  Except, when he looked over at Devi, she still looked scared.  After a beat, she launched herself toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.  

           “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing her back.  “I’m okay.”

           She pulled away and gave his arm a light punch. “You really scared me.”

           “Yeah, well, next time I’ll double check my banana-walnut muffin actually has walnuts.”

           “And I’ll believe you when you say your throat is closing up.”

           Devi’s phone rang and he saw Paxton’s name flash on the screen.  He asked her, “Do you need to get that?”

           He watched her hesitate before sending it to voicemail.

----

           Devi and Paxton broke up a week later.  He found out from one of the retirement home residents, who he overheard telling Devi, “You’re better off, Devi.  Take it from an old woman.  You have the rest of your life to be with one person.  Now is the time to be free.  Sow your wild oats, if you will.”

           “Um, I don’t really know what that last part means, but I feel you.  I mean, I’m too young and hot to be tied down, right?”

           “Exactly.  You know, I have a grandson you might be interested in.  He’s pre-med.”

           “I appreciate the offer, Beatrice.  And offering me your grandson after I just broke up with my boyfriend?  Savage. But, I think I need to take some time by myself.”

           That afternoon during bingo, Ben casually brought up the breakup after calling out B-27.

           “Are you okay?” he asked.

           “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said.  She ran the machine and picked out the next ball.  “B-13!”  She put the ball down and said in a regular volume voice, “We just didn’t have that much in common.”

           “Yeah, I bet,” Ben said automatically.

           “Wow, okay,” Devi said with a laugh that didn’t exactly sound reassuring.

           “I didn’t mean,..” he trailed off, because he kind of did.  “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.”  He paused and picked up the next ball.  “N-7!”

           “Bingo!”

----

           Summer was coming to a close, and so was their time at the retirement home.  For some reason, Ben felt an impending sense of dread.  Sure, he would still see Devi, but it would be different.  Everyone else would be added back to the mix, including Paxton.  

           Their last big event at the retirement home was a movie night.  They set up a projector in one of the recreation rooms and made it up like an old theater, complete with velvet ropes and individual little bags of popcorn. They even wore old-timey usher costumes they rented from a local costume shop.

           “Does yours also smell like nachos?”  Devi asked.

           “Yeah.  I’m trying not to think about it.”

           The movie was It Happened One Night, and Devi and Ben sat in the back, watching the movie along with the residents.  It was secretly one of Ben’s favorites.  He and his mom had spent little time together when he was growing up, but she shared with him her love of old movies.

           It was the Jericho scene, where Clark Gable’s character was setting up a sheet between him and Claudette Colbert in their motel room.  He stripped down to just his undershirt, and Devi mused, “Clark Gable was super bangable.”

           “Shh,” Ben said.  “This is my favorite part.”

           Devi looked over at him and grinned.  Feeling her gaze, he glanced over and felt his breath stop when their eyes met.  They were close, and in the darkness her eyes seemed to glow.  He always thought she had pretty eyes.  Even before, when he hated her more times than he liked her. He felt an urge to lean forward. It would be so easy.  Just the slightest lean and his mouth would be against hers.  But, that would just be a kiss in the back of a dark room.  He wanted more.

           “Eleanor told me that you wanted to choose me after Malibu.”

           She blinked rapidly.  “What?”

           “After you scattered your dad’s ashes.  She said you wanted to choose me, but they made you also consider Paxton.”

           “Okay.”

           “Is that true?”

           Devi didn’t answer, so he kept talking.

           “And she said that you started the rumor about Aneesa because you thought that we were dating and you were jealous.  And, you see, I’ve had it in my mind all this time that it was always Paxton.  And that I was, I don’t know, some detour on the way, but-“

           “You were not a detour,” Devi said immediately. “You were…you were perfect.  And I messed us up.”

           “So, Eleanor was telling the truth?”

           Devi nodded.  “Yeah, she was.”

           Ben took a deep breath.  “Devi.  I’m going to kiss you now.”

           She nodded, all business, but he could hear the nerves in her voice when she said, “Okay.  Thank you for the advanced warning.”

           He leaned in and captured her mouth with his.  The kiss was sweet and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.  And in a way, they did.  There was a noise behind them, and they pulled apart abruptly.  Their supervisor stood over them and said, "Remember what I said about no sex on property?"

"Are you kidding me right now?"  Devi said.  "Who is having sex in these gross costumes?"

"You'd be surprised."

The supervisor walked away, and Devi looked at Ben.  "You don't think she meant..."

"I think she absolutely did."

"I need to take this off immediately."

[lunatens]

scaredy cats

-

requested by bea (🌱✨anon) tysm bby!! i’m sorry this took so long, i made it a lil longer to make up for it :> 

prompt: “uh...did the power just go out?”

*part of my 2 years with luna event!

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff, high school au, childhood friends to lovers 

pairing: lee chan x gn reader

warnings: there’s a thunderstorm and the power goes out!

[you: channieeeee pls come over~]

[chan: y??]

[you: do u rlly need a reason lmao i just wanna see my bestie]

[chan: it’s raining thoooooo]

[you: so? use an umbrella it ain’t a far walk]

[chan: okok i’ll come hang out]

[chan: i’m gonna kick ur ass at super mario party tho]

[you: in your dreams ;) see u soon bby!!]

slipping your phone into your pocket, you roll off your bed and excitedly rush to your front window, pulling the blinds aside so you can have a better view of the street outside. chan wasn’t kidding, it’s raining alright—heavy torrents of rain pour from the sky, and the clouds look a bit too dark for your liking. you bite your lip guiltily, feeling a little bad that chan’s walking here in this weather. at least he only lives a block over, you think to make yourself feel better. 

chan’s been your best friend ever since he accidentally hit you in the face with a frisbee way back when you were just ten years old. your nose started bleeding, and chan panicked and tried to comfort you as he went with you to get cleaned up. even when the school nurse tried to send him back outside, he refused to leave until he knew you were okay. you tease him about this all the time, laughing at how overdramatic he was (”it was just a little nose bleed, chan” “okay but you were crying!!”) but you’re grateful for it, as you probably wouldn’t have become friends otherwise. 

you smile to yourself as you think back fondly on the memories of your childhood with chan; it won’t be long till you’re both graduating high school, and it’s hard to believe it’s been so many years since that fateful frisbee incident. you can’t help but nervously wonder what the future will bring for you and chan, but you push those thoughts aside when you see a figure running down the street trying to cover his head as he sprints through the puddles. he slows down as he reaches your house, jogging up to your front door. not even giving him the chance to knock, you open the door for chan and usher him inside quickly. 

“it’s a little wet out there,” he comments sarcastically, and a distant clap of thunder echoes through the sky as if to emphasize his point. you quickly shut the door and lock it, as if that’ll do something to keep the storm at bay. 

“yeah, no kidding, you’re dripping all over the floor,” you comment. chan pulls of his drenched shoes and opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off before he can start.

“i’ll go get you some dry clothes, stay here so you don’t get the entire house wet,” you tell him as you rush to your room to search for something chan can wear. you find a couple of his sweaters lying around, one he forgot here just last week and the other one from god knows when. you decide to keep the more recent one and give chan the older one along with a pair of your sweatpants and some warm socks.

“here, catch,” you say as you throw the clothes towards chan, who’s now standing in a large puddle in your doorway. he’s caught off guard, and the clothes hit him square in the face. 

“hey!!! i come all the way over here through a thunderstorm to see you just because you’re bored, and this is the thanks i get?” chan complains as he makes his way to your room to get changed.

“oh come on, i know you were just as bored as i was,” you tease, and chan can’t help but smile when you call him out. 

“you got me,” he responds before slipping into your room and closing the door behind him. you proceed to hook up your nintendo switch to the tv, preparing for a night of video games and maybe a movie or two. as you connect the cables, you hear your bedroom door open and chan’s soft footsteps as he goes to throw his clothes in the dryer. he returns to the living room, flopping onto the couch and grabbing a controller.

“what do you want for dinner? my parents are away for the weekend so there’s frozen pizza or….some sort of leftovers i think?” you ask chan, making your way to the kitchen.

“you’re not gonna cook for me?” chan teases, knowing you sometimes struggle to make toast. you give him a look before digging the pizza out of the freezer. you preheat the oven and place the pizza on a tray. 

“don’t forget to take the plastic off!” chan calls from the couch.

“i know, chan,” you say, but you’re glad he reminded you; that was a close one. 

-

two hours and a slightly overcooked frozen pizza later, you and chan are yelling at the screen as your characters pummel each other in a heated round of super smash bros. it’s still heavily raining, but the sounds of the tv drown out the steady drumming on the roof and the increasingly loud and frequent thunder. the two of you hardly notice the flashes of lightning in the now-dark sky as you focus on the tv. you’re just about to smash chan’s character to oblivion when all of a sudden everything is pitch black and a blanket of dead silence washes over the house, save for the rain on the roof.

“uh...did the power just go out?” chan asks, the two of you sitting frozen on the couch. you turn your head to look at him, although there’s really no point--you can’t see anything.

“hm, yeah i think it did,” you say. you’re trying to tease him, but you can’t hide the fear wavering in your voice. 

“where are you?” chan asks, voice equally fearful, and you reach out to feel for his outstretched hands in the dark. you find them, and the two of you grab onto each other and pull each other close. the room feels so empty without the bright lights from the tv and the chaotic yelling over the sounds of the game onscreen. now, there’s only the rain, louder than ever, although you swear you can hear your heartbeat out loud. 

“i think we have some candles in the basement,” you whisper.

“noooooope, you’re crazy if you think i’m going down there; it’s scary even when the lights are on,” chan replies and you feel him shake his head. “what about that scented candle i gave you for your birthday?”

“ooh, good call! it’s in my room,” you remember. “let’s go,” you say, pulling out your phone to use as a flashlight. lightning outside lights up the room for a moment, and not too long after there’s a loud clap of thunder. both you and chan let out a small shriek, feeling your grips on each other tighten. now, is your heart beating from fear of the dark and stormy night? or from the way chan holds onto you for dear life? probably a mix of both, but you choose not to think about that right now. 

“ok we’ll go on three, ready?” you say, waiting for chan’s response. you’re met with silence. “chan?”

“oh sorry, i forgot you can’t see me nodding. on three,” he confirms

“okay, one, two...three!” you count. on three, you pull chan off the couch and the two of you race hand in hand to your bedroom, guided by the bright light of your phone flashlight. you hesitantly let go of chan’s hand as you search for your candle and some matches. it doesn’t take too long to find them, and soon enough a flickering orange flame casts a faint flow around your room. you and chan climb onto your bed, you sitting up against the headboard and chan lying with his head in your lap. there’s enough light that you can now see each other’s silhouettes at least, and you look down to watch as the flame casts shadows that seem to dance across chan’s face. when did he grow up so much? you find yourself thinking, feeling like it was just yesterday the two of you were a couple of snot-nosed kids running around at recess. your fingers absentmindedly play with his hair as you’re lost in thought.

“this is kind of spooky, we should tell ghost stories!” chan suggests.

“or we could just talk and not scare ourselves into staying awake all night,” you reply.

“good idea,” he agrees, but neither of you say anything. you lie there in silence for a moment; the rain sounds a bit less violent from inside your room, and now that you can see a bit you find it’s quite a peaceful sound.

“mingyu asked me out today,” you tell chan. you’re not quite sure what possessed you to just tell him that out of the blue; you weren’t even planning on telling chan at all, but now you’ve gone and said it and you can’t take it back.

“really?? that’s great, y/n! when’s the date?”

you’re a bit disheartened at chan’s reaction; he seems genuinely excited for you, unless the shock is just masking his true feelings for now, 

“i said no.”

“what?? why??? i thought you liked him?” chan sits up at this, his head now even with yours as he looks at you in shock.

“not anymore,” you say with a shrug. your voice is quiet, unsure of where this conversation will head. 

“oh,” is all chan says. “is there...any particular reason?” he asks after a beat of silence. there’s something more in his voice now that wasn’t there before.

“i just don’t think he’s really my type,” you explain without elaborating. 

“well, what is your type if not mingyu? he’s kind, smart, beautiful, tall...he’s got it all! i mean, you’ve had a crush on him for like, a year, and he finally asked you out and you said no?” chan says in mild disbelief. 

“don’t get me wrong, mingyu’s a great guy and all, but i just-i think i realized i have feelings for someone else,” you say, voice trailing off to barely a whisper. 

“really?? who is it?” chan asks all-too-eagerly, and you start to feel doubtful he likes you back.

“it’s no one.”

“awe y/n, don’t be like that! at least give me hints?” chan asks. 

“fine,” you sigh, knowing he won’t leave it alone. “first of all, he’s annoying and loud,”

“that doesn’t sound like a crus-”

“do you want me to give you hints or not?”

“...yes please,”

“ok then shh. he’s annoying and loud, but it’s perfect because i am too so we get along really well. he’s also the most caring person i’ve ever met; i know he’d do anything for me if i asked him,” you continue, not sure how much you want to give away.

“wow, he sounds really great!” chan comments. to any other person, he’d sound excited for you, but you know him well enough to pick up on the slight disappointment in his voice, and it’s just the boost you need to keep going.

“he is; he’d even go out in a thunderstorm for me just because i said i’m bored,” you say and you turn to look at chan now. it’s too dark to read his expression, but you can see how he leans ever so closer to you. 

“now that’s some dedication, i mean he sounds flawless,” chan teases. you can hear the smile in his voice, which makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“the only problem is i’m not sure if he likes me back,” you whisper, your nose brushing the tip of chan’s, and before you know it his lips are on yours in a passionate yet gentle kiss. how you’ve gone so long without kissing chan you don’t know; the years of secret feelings all finally set free in this one kiss. 

you didn’t lie about liking mingyu--you had actually thought you might’ve finally gotten over your feelings for chan and found someone else. for a couple of months it worked, and you found yourself distracted with thoughts of the tall boy instead of your best friend. but it all came crashing down when you caught the common cold the other week, and chan looked after you while you were sick--he even skipped class one day to make sure you weren’t lonely. all of your true feelings came rushing back to you, and you knew there were no hopes of losing them.

“what about now?” chan asks as he pulls away just enough to talk.

“i’m still not sure, he might have to kiss me again to convince me,” you say, unable to contain your smile. chan kisses you again, and it’s just as magical as the first time. a loud crack of thunder startles you, and you gasp as you latch onto chan, burying your face in his shoulder.

“you’re such a scaredy-cat,” he says, bringing his arms up to pull you closer.

“shut up so are you, i can hear your heart racing,” your voice is muffled by his sweater.

“maybe that’s just because of you,” he comments, stroking your hair. 

“ew,” you reply, but your heart’s not in it; you can pretend to hate how cheesy chan is all you want, but internally you love it just as much as you love every other aspect of him.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #850: Texting My Boyfriend (SSBU X Wario Ware)

Lucas: So how's the video game programing is coming along for you guys so far?

Ashley: It's going smoothly as of right now.

Ashley: We were suck into an handled console and had get rid of a few glitches ourselves.

Ashley: It was a hectic experience to say the least.

Lucas: I'll say.....

Lucas: I hope you guys aren't hurt....

Ashley: All of us are fine for the most part.

Ashley: Wario, on the other hand, was throwing a hissy fit not too long

Ashley: Apparently it has something to do with some real treasure not being in the game or whatever.

Lucas: That's sounds like Wario alright lol.

Lucas: Still, I'm glad you all are safe.

Ashley: Thank you. (✿^‿^)

Ashley: But what about you, Lucas? Are you doing okay back at the mansion?

Lucas: Yeah. I'm doing great actually.

Lucas: I spent the day with Big Sis Ann and Big Sis Shiho yesterday and it was so much fun.

Ashley: That's good to hear.

Ashley: What are you guys doing right now?

Lucas: Watching Ren and the others play Mario Party in the living room.

Lucas: I think Ryuji's winning.

Lucas: Nevermind. Futuba just stole two his star on Chance Time lol.

Ashley: Lol is that so?

Lucas: Yep. And now he's crying on the floor as we speak lol.

Lucas: Skull's Ultimate Defeat.jpg

Ashley: You know, in hindsight, it kind of makes me feel bad for him.

Lucas: Yeah, but I'm sure he'll be fine. He's one of the toughest guys I know after all.

Ashley: I suppose you have point there.

Ashley: Still, I'm glad you all are having a good time with one another.

Lucas: I am too.

Lucas: Though, if I'm being honest, It would be a lot more funnier if you were there too....

Ashley: You really miss me?

Lucas: Yeah! I've started missing you ever since you first left.

Lucas: I mean, I know you're able to take care of yourself and everything, but... I guess none of that didn't really stop me from thinking about you entirely lol.

Ashley: Oh you poor thing~ I'll be sure to make it up to you as soon as I return back to the mansion tomorrow.

Lucas: That's so sweet of you, Ashley. But you really don't have to do all of that for me.

Lucas: Seeing you again would be good enough for me already.

Ashley: True, but this is a matter of me wanting to do this for me. Given that you are very precious to me in every way~ ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

Lucas: You're very precious to me in every way too, Ashley!~ Thank you!~ (✿^‿^)

........................................................

Ashley smiles brightly at the recent text message Lucas gave her as she begins to text him back. That is until......

??????: Hi, Ashleyyyy!~

Ashley gets startled by the two voices calling her name before immediately hiding her phone behind her back, turning around and see that it was none other than Mona and Penny Crygor.

Ashley: ('Sigh') It's just you two....What is it?

Penny: (Smiles Brightly) Sorry for barging in on your alone time!~ Pizza just arrived and we were gonna tell you to come get some before Wario starts eating them all.

Mona: (Smirks Playfully and Teasingly at the Young Witch) That is until we noticed you texting a certain someone on your little phone~ Now we wants details~

Ashley: (Already Giving the Duo an Annoyed Glare) ................

Penny: Pleeeeeaseee tell us~ We promise to keep it a secret if you do.

Mona: (Pulls Out her Pinky Along) We'll even do a pinky swear to prove our point.

Penny: (Nodded Rapidly While Having her Pinky Out as Well)

Ashley: ('Sighs in Defeat') Fine. (Crosses her Pinky Together With Mona and Penny Separately) You better keep your word on this.

Penny: Promise!~

Mona: Now tell us who you were texting!~

Penny: Is it the Lucas boy you told us about?

Ashley: (Simply Nodded) Yes. It was Lucas. I....(Starts Blushing While Looking Away) I wanted to make sure he was doing okay back at the mansion.

Mona/Penny: (Gushes Towards Ashley While Clamping Their Hands Together) AWWWWWWWWW!~ That's so sweet!~

Ashley: (Sighs While Rolling her Eyes) It is.... He's doing fine in case you're wondering.

Mona: (Smiles Brightly) That's good to hear.

Penny: (Happily Nodded in Agreement) Definitely. I wish we can all meet him soon. He sounds like a really nice boy.

Ashley: He is. Very much so. (Starts Pouting) In fact, he would've been right here with us days ago if Wario didn't start rushing me out of the door in the last minute.......

Penny: (Sighs While Facepalming Herself) Ah geez....Leave it to Wario to be impatient for everything....

Mona: ('Sigh') Yeah. Especially when riches are involved....(Smiles Softly at Ashley) How about we schedule for a proper meet up in the future?

Penny: (Smiles Brightly) That sounds like a great idea! There's like so many things we can do together in Diamond City. I can't even choose which one to do first!~

Mona: We have all the time in the world to decide all of that before that time comes. (Turns to Ashley) That is, if all of this is alright with you, of course.

Ashley: (Simply Nodded I'm Agreement) It is.

Mona/Penny: Woo-Hoo!~/Yes!~ (Happily Gave Each Other High Fives)

Ashley: But only on two conditions!

Mona: (Comes Back to Reality) Oh! Uh...(Giggles a Bit Awkwardly) Yeah. Sure.

Penny: What are the conditions, chief?

Ashley: Well, for one, could you please tell everyone else to try and tone down their overly energetic behaviors? I know it's mostly your whole thing or whatever, Lucas is a very shy boy and I don't want him to get scared off too easily.

Penny: (Already Writing it Down on her Notepad) Tone down.... hyperactive behaviors.....Got it.

Ashley: And second.....Make sure Wario behaves and doesn't screw it up for everyone. (Puts on a Dark Glare on her Face) I would hate to have to hex him for all eternity if that were to come to wishing......

Penny: (Already Shivering in Fear) S-S-Scary.....

Mona: (Smiles Sheepishly at the Small Witch) I don't think that'll be necessary, Ash.... I'll make sure the bug guy is on his best behavior. You have my word.

Ashley: (Stares at the Duo For a Brief Second Before Sighing Once Again) I'll take your word for it..... (Smiles a Little) Thank you for doing this me. It....kind of means a lot that you cared.

Penny: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness) Awww~ You don't need to thank us for of that. (Makes Her Way to Ashley and Hugs Her) That's what friends are for.

Mona: (Joins in on the Hug as Well) Penny's right, kiddo. You know we'll always have your back no matter what kind of help you need, right?

Ashley: I know. (Starts Blushing a Little) But I still appreciate you all for being my friends..... Except for Wario. He sucks.

Mona: Oh come on. Wario isn't that bad once you get to know him a little more.

Ashley: Mona, he tries scamming us out of money every chance he gets.

Penny: Yeah....I'm gonna have to agree with Ash here. He is pretty greedy.

Mona: Well....Yeah. But....('Sigh') I dunno. At....least he's making an honest work? (Shrugs While Smiling Awkwardly)

Penny: Ehh......

Ashley: Doubtful.

Mona: Look, just have more faith in him, okay? I know he has a heart inside him......Somewhere.

Ashley: I don't wanna know where it is.

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@ma-lemons

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@italian-love-cake

@albion-93

@princekirijo

[taetaespeaches]

“I’ve told you this, always choose Yoshi.”

seokjin x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.3K

a/n: hi lovelies!! Let the boyfriend Jinnie uploads commence! We’re starting off with some playful crackhead Jin/Poopsie, naturally. This drabble is built around the Mario vs. Yoshi debate that takes place in my Yoongi drabble, “I didn’t think you’d care if I came back.” (not necessary to read to understand this fic). The boys went away to Japan for a work trip and Poopsie went away to visit family, so this is their reunion. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! :)) 

HOW the other members didn’t despise your existence was beyond you, you thought, as you stood outside their door, knocking incessantly with a giddy grin planted on your face.

It had only been ten days since you had seen your boyfriend, him having been on a trip to Japan for work and you being away to see some family for a few days, but the ten days felt much too long.

Mid-knock, the door swung open revealing your handsome fella, adorned in an oversized blue hoodie and some grey sweatpants, a massive smile spread across his face. Without a word, you jumped into his open arms, wrapping your own around the back of his neck and Jin hugging you close to him.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere anymore,” you mumbled against his chest, Jin chuckling.

“You’re not either,” he told you, leaving a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you,” he whispered, you pulling away to look at him with a smile.

“I missed you too,” you giggled, Jin leaning forward to press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. Jin wrapped you back up in a tight hug and pulled you inside the dorm, kicking the door shut behind you. Toying with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, you couldn’t decide in that moment what exactly you wanted to do with the man. Part of you really wanted to fuck him, to be completely honest, while the other part of you just wanted to cuddle with him and catch up on all the conversations you couldn’t fit into your schedules.

Either way, you wanted to be alone with him. Peering around his broad shoulders, you looked around the living space. “So uh, is Yoongi here?” You asked, checking to see if his room was roommate was around, but intentionally making your tone a bit flirty, just to mess with your boyfriend.

“Wah,” he shouted, pushing you away, you throwing your head back in laughter. “Yoongi? Do you know who I am?” You bit back your laughter, giving him a look with raised eyebrows, as if you were waiting for him to inform you of just who he was. “Oh you punk,” he complained, “I’m World Wide Handsome, have some respect.”

You giggled, thoroughly amused by your boyfriend as you walked back toward him, only for Jin to turn his back on you, crossing his arms over his front.

“Ahhh,” you said in realization, “World Wide Handsome, how could I forget?” You teased just as Jimin entered the room to see you wrapping your arms around Jin’s waist in a back hug.

“Figures,” Jimin said in feigned annoyance as he watched Jin struggle in your arms, you turning to look at the younger man. “The noise makes since now,” Jimin joked, looking at you both with a smile as Jin managed to pull one of your arms off of him, you grinning back at the younger man.

“Hi Jiminie,” you greeted, but before Jimin could respond, planning to ask you how your family was, Jin halted all efforts to get away from you.

“Are you calling my girlfriend loud?” Jin interrupted, standing up straighter as he pretended to prepare for a fight. “Hold me back,” he told you as he placed your arm back onto his abdomen.

Playing along, a massive smile on your face, you held him tight. “Jin, calm down, he’s not worth it,” you said as if you were really holding the man back, Jimin rolling his eyes at you both.

“I honestly don’t know what’s worse,” Jimin started, making his way past you both toward the dorm door. “You two being apart so we have to listen to Jin whine about how much he loves and misses you all the time, or having you two together.”

“Aww, Jinnie,” you cooed, looking over his shoulder at him. “Do you talk about me all the time?”

“I take back every nice thing I said about you,” he informed you in feigned anger, you giggling against his back.

“Tell me, what do you love about me?” You asked just as Jin cracked a smile, you tickling his sides just slightly.  

“Anyways,” Jimin interrupted, putting his coat on and telling you both, “I’m heading out to grab dinner with Tae and the girls.” You pouted fondly at his plans. You always found their friend group to be adorable. “Don’t be too gross or obnoxious, Jungkook is still here and me and Tae will be back later.”

With that, Jimin was opening the door, Jin shouting out, “Yeah, you better walk away before I show you how a man defends his love,” the door closing behind Jimin leaving a huffy Jin, acting as though he was genuinely worked up.  

You found Jin to be hysterical, the way he could act so childish and put on an act so quickly, flipping between moods and characters.

“Wow, you’re so sexy when you’re defending my honor,” you complimented, Jin turning in your arms to look at you.

“You think so?” He asked with an air of confidence.

“Definitely,” you nodded, leaving a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Big turn on.” He gave you a stoic expression as he basked in your words, you giggling at his dorkiness. “You know, I was only asking if Yoongi is here to see if we have the room to ourselves.”

“Well, we’re in luck because he hasn’t been around in three days,” he told you, your eyebrows pulling together.

“Wait, what? Are we concerned about this?” You asked, curious as to where your boyfriend’s roommate had been.

Jin hummed, shrugging. “He’s been at the studio.” You nodded slowly, Jin turning in your arms to wrap his own around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug again. “Don’t worry, you absolute sweetheart, I’m sure he’s ok,” he told you, you letting out a scoff against his chest.

“I’m not even worried,” you negated, Jin chuckling into your hair, humming in pretend agreement. “I’m not,” you whined. Jin enjoyed teasing you for your sometimes over-concern for his members. You had known them all as long as you had known Jin, so you had a few soft spots for the dudes. “Whatever, can we just go to your empty room now?” You asked, pulling out of his arms and walking toward the bedroom. Jin watched you walk away, a smile on his face. Turning around to see him across the room from you, you huffed. “Jinnie,” you whined out, holding your hand out to him. “Stop being a god all the way across the room and come be a god over here with me.”

“Are you acknowledging my status as World Wide Handsome?” He asked, stubbornly staying in place.

“I always do, now if you don’t get over here right now, I’m going to go hang out with Jungkook instead,” you told him, Jin immediately scurrying toward you as he complained.

“Don’t you dare,” he told you, taking the hand you still held out to him before spinning you around and lightly shoving you toward the bedroom, you cackling as you walked in front of him. “I already fought one man for you tonight,” he started.

“Oh hardly,” you interrupted as you both stepped into the room, Jin ignoring you as he closed the door and continued.

“I’ll fight another if I have to,” he told you, both of you quickly making your way to the bed.

“Calm down, tough guy,” you teased with a grin, Jin grabbing your waist as he pulled you down onto the bed with him, your bodies crashing together upon impact with the mattress. “Jesus,” you giggled, Jin chuckling beneath you.

You rolled off of him, lying next to him, both of you facing each other. “I love you,” you told him, a soft smile appearing on Jin’s face.

“I love you too,” he told you, leaning in to place a short but sweet kiss to your lips.

“How was the trip?” You asked, your hand running through his hair, pushing his fringe off his forehead.

“Jungkook kicked my ass in Mario Kart,” he told you bitterly, you letting out a loud laugh before awing sadly. Of course he would choose to tell you about a video game match rather than the actual purpose of the trip. “That’s why you’re not allowed to talk to him.”

“That mean kid,” you giggled. “Were you Mario again?”

“Of course, I was Mario, who else would I be?” He questioned you as if your question was beyond ridiculous.

“Yoshi,” you exclaimed. “I’ve told you this, always choose Yoshi.”

“Mario is the best character, what are you talking about?” He asked, his voice raising, showing off his old man Jin side. “Why on earth would I choose Yoshi?”

“Because he’s the best,” you told him as if it was obvious.

“That’s crazy!” He yelled, you nearly laughing at his tone. “The game is called Mario Kart, Mario is the center of the game. He’s the whole franchise.”

“And how did Mario work out for you?” You asked him, Jin’s eyes widening as he stuttered over an answer. “I don’t care if the whole game and franchise is named after Mario, Yoshi is hands down the best character in the Mario realm, and that’s just a fact.” He let out sounds of negation throughout your rant, you shooting him a glare in response.

“There wouldn’t even be a Yoshi if it weren’t for Mario because there would be no Mario franchise,” he ranted, you giving him an incredulous look. Just as you were about to respond, someone cleared their throat from the doorway, Jin looking up and greeting the person with an, “oh, hey.”

You sat up, spotting Yoongi, your eyes going wide. “Oh, Yoongi, thank god you’re here,” you exclaimed. Yoongi gave you a surprised expression and you had to hold back a giggle at the clear confusion on his face. “Tell Jin that Yoshi is the best Mario character.” Yoongi’s confusion only became more prevalent in his features.

“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” Jin shouted before Yoongi could even think to respond, Jin’s eyes blown comically wide when you turned to look at him. “Yoshi can be your favorite character, but you can’t argue he’s the best,” he told you, moving his head around as if it was on a bobble.  

“Why can’t I?” You asked in exasperation.

“Because it’s not called Super Yoshi, or Yoshi Kart,” your boyfriend explained again, holding onto his silly argument of Mario being the franchise. You knew he was purposely winding you up, but you were taking the bait. You always did, and you both loved it.

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, Jin laughing at your attitude. Shaking your head at his amusement, he only laughed harder, leaning toward you to kiss your cheek, but instead mostly just giggling against your face. You almost broke into a giggle of your own.

“Aw, but I got you something in Japan,” Jin suddenly told you, crawling off the bed and standing next to it above you as you watched him curiously. Your eyebrows were raised as you observed your boyfriend dig inside his sweatpants pocket. Pulling his hand out, he held a cute little Yoshi figure in his hand, and you had to bite back the smile that nearly immediately spread across your face. “It’s Yoshi!” Jin said cheerfully, moving it around to show you the figure better.

The smile got harder to hold back as you looked at the man holding the toy. Why is he so cute?

“I may disagree with you, but I support you and your poor judgement,” he teased you, lowering himself onto the bed, sitting up on his knees.

Your amusement broke through at the comment, smiling at him as you shook your head. “I’m in love with you, so you may be on to something with the poor judgment thing,” you joked, taking the Yoshi figure from Jin as you cooed at it. Jin failed to hold his glare as a large smile overtook his face. “It’s so cute,” you pouted. “Thank you.”

Jin lowered himself over your frame, kissing your lips softly. “You’re welcome, my love.” The door clicked closed, both of you looking to it, realizing Yoongi had snuck out. Your eyes shifted from the door to your boyfriend, hovering above you.

“Is he ok?” You asked, Jin staring at the door a moment longer before looking down at you.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he told you before placing a kiss to your nose. “Do you like it?” He questioned, nodding to the little Yoshi in your hand.

“I love it, Jinnie, thank you,” you smiled, placing your free hand at the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss. He deepened it, one arm supporting himself above you as his opposite hand slid to your side, easily digging underneath your shirt to feel your bare skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling lightly on the strands, Jin smiling against your mouth. “Are you sure this is ok?” You mumbled into the kiss.

“We have the room to ourselves,” he reminded you, not bothering to move his lips off of yours, going right back into the kiss after he spoke.

“But Kookie,” you noted against his mouth, just before Jin’s hand slid up your abdomen, his fingertips dragging against the underside of your boob.

Pulling away to shoot you a glare, you smiled at the feigned anger. “He beat me in Mario Kart, love.” The way he spoke the words, as if Jungkook deserved to hear and be made uncomfortable, made you cackle loudly, Jin smiling widely at the sound of your amusement.

“I told you, should have chosen Yoshi,” you retorted, Jin taking a sudden breath before letting it out in annoyance.

He thought about a response but instead just chuckled before connecting his lips to yours again. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Dropping the Yoshi figure, you brought your hand to waistband of his sweatpants. “Missed you too, my love,” you breathed out against his mouth. “So much.”

[faulty-writes]

'Tis I - the original Bakugou vs Mirio requester! I have come with another idea, should you choose to accept it: Rescue training. yn is chosen to be the damsel in distress for the exercise. It's timed. Bakugou speeds through the course, is insensitive towards the 'victim', and flails her around like a ragdoll. Bakugou bombs the exercise even though he finished on time. Midnight then tells Mirio to show him how it's done. Mirio literally sweeps yn off her feet during the exercise. Baku is MAD.

[ This turned out much longer than I originally thought. But regardless, I hope you all enjoy the Mario save the Princess vibe. ] 

Midnight smirked as she stood in front of Class 1-A., whip in hand and it was almost eerie how she looked at each student with those piercing eyes of hers. “Is that understood?” she questioned, having just finished explaining the exercise. Apparently, it was a simple rescue mission, of course when it came to any type of training. U.A. was anything but simple, you knew there had to be some catch and sure enough, there was.

“Excuse me!” Iida was the first one to raise his hand and get Midnight’s attention. “Forgive me, but you claim this to be a simple rescue mission, yes?” Midnight’s eyes sparkled with mischief and she smirked. “Correct!” she exclaimed as she pointed her whip toward him and a few of your classmates flinched in response. You watched Bakugou huff and cross his arms, you wondered if he was actually scared of anything.

Considering how odd things have been between you and him lately, well more specifically you, him, and Mirio. “You are to go through the obstacle course, which in this case is a castle. The point of this exercise is to use both your offensive and defensive skills. As well as test your rescue skills, for you see. One of you will be playing the hero and the other the poor damsel in distress!” she declared as she placed the back of her hand to her forehead.

For an R rated hero, she sure tried hard to be an actress. “How will the hero and the one to be rescued be decided?” Iida asked, with his hand enthusiastically in the air. “Hm…” you were standing in the front row and shivered as Midnight’s eyes settled on you. “For the first round, Y/n! You will be the damsel in distress!” you took a step back and your content expression twisted into that of horror.

“What?! Why me?” you questioned, though Midnight ignored you before pointing to Bakugou. “Bakugou will be the hero! Will he be able to save the lovely Y/n on time? Who knows, the rest of you sit back and watch his performance on the screen.” Midnight said as she pointed to a large oversized television that almost seemed to defy gravity as it hovered high above the training ground. Of course, the students would be taken to the observation room which was equipped with several televisions as well as communication systems.

You almost wanted to beg your classmates to stay, Bakugou didn’t exactly seem very compassionate for this type of exercise. Still, you watched as your classmates followed Midnight’s instructions and shyly looked at the ground. This was a little embarrassing, why couldn’t someone else have been chosen to be the rescue victim? Your eyes widened when you heard Bakugou approach you, “Hey, dumbass! Lift your damned head so I can look at you!” he demanded and in a way it both scared and offended you, Bakugou really needed some lessons on how to talk nicely.

Though according to Kirishima, the angry blond did have a soft spot, and when he did speak calmly. It was like he was a completely different person. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that. Yet, somehow you found yourself following his command and slowly raised your head. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw the smirk he was wearing and how his tongue came out to swipe across his lips.

He reached over and grabbed you by the shirt collar, pulling you against him. “Just watch, babe.” you narrowed your eyes at the nickname, why the hell did he call you that? “I’ll finish this course and rescue you quicker than All Might himself.” you gasped when he released you and began to walk away. You turned to look at Midnight who seemed almost as if she were coming off of a high of some sort, she loved youth and drama apparently. “Oh, now isn’t that spicy!? A challenge from the student, can he beat All Might’s record and complete this rescue mission?” she questioned before walking over to you.

“Time to get into position, you’ll find an elevator located on the side of the castle. Go on now so this exercise can start.” Midnight urged as she pushed you, “Alright, alright.” you grumbled before following her instructions, the elevator ride seemed to take longer than you wanted to admit. But once you reached the top you found yourself stepping into what looked to be a circular room. There were bars on the window and only one door. Naturally, you walked over and pulled it, only to find it was locked.

“That’s right.” you jumped at the sound of Midnight’s voice over the sound system. “Our damsel in distress is locked away, there is no escape from the room they are in. Which leaves the hero one of two options. They may climb the tower and try to reach their rescue victim through the barred window or they may infiltrate the inside and break down the door. But be fair warned, villains are around every corner.” Bakugou spread his legs and parted his fingers as small explosions sounded from his palms.

“Pff doesn’t sound like much of a challenge to me!” he declared before rocketing himself off the ground which left behind two large holes. If anything Bakugou was an expert at using his quirk when it came to projecting himself through the air and with multiple “villains” around, which were just more robots that U.A. seemed to like to use. It was an easy task for him to take them out with one solid explosion. Pieces of metal and wire were left in his continued path of destruction.

“Looks like Bakugou made it through the first level, but how will he handle the bigger villains that await him on level two!?” Midnight continued to narrate and you curiously ran to the window to see what was happening, sure enough, you could see the large explosions caused by Bakugou and even make out the pieces of metal that soared through the sky. Was he just planning to blast his way through everything?

Part of you wondered just how many robots U.A. had to replace the ones Bakugou was killing off without a second thought. Your fingers tightened around the bars of the window, “Looks like our rescue victim is enjoying the show! Don’t worry, your hero will come for you soon. That is if he can stand the final challenge.” you raised your eyebrow, final challenge? You gasped as you felt vibrations course through the castle, it was enough to send you off your feet.

“What is going on!?” you questioned as you tried to stagger your way back to the window, grabbing onto the bars as tightly as you could. Though it was hard to stand without your feet slipping from underneath you. Your eyes widened as you watched a large mechanical being come into view. It was at least three times bigger than the castle and in a way, it reminded you of the zero point obstacle you had to overcome during the entrance exam.

But as usual, once Bakugou had a goal set there was no stopping him. You hated to admit it, but that was one of the qualities that you happened to admire about the angry blond. No matter how bad things looked, he always seemed to keep going. “Oh! Looks like he’s going for an air attack!” Midnight said and your eyes frantically searched the sky, but the shadow of the robot made it hard to see as it blocked most of your view.

“Ah!” you cried out when a bright flash came, he really needed to learn how to control his quirk better. “Hah! Not so fucking tough without an arm, are you!?” Bakugou said with a twisted smirk before breaking the robot down piece by piece which seemed to awe and disgust the rest of Class 1-A. “Sheesh, he always goes in full blast. What’s up with that?” Kirishima asked before turning to Kaminari who shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, but you gotta admit. He gets the job done, though I’m not sure if I’d make such a mess,” he replied as he continued to watch the screen. Bakugou was now standing in the pile of what remained of the robot beast. He was panting softly and covered in a light sweat. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to collapse as he took one step forward. But then, he clenched his fists. “Y/N!” he suddenly screamed as he tilted his head up toward the tower.

“YOU’RE NEXT, BACK AWAY FROM THE WINDOW!” he warned before he focused most of his quirk to his palms and another explosion sounded before he flew off the ground, barely scraping by the stone that made up the tower. “YOU BETTER HAVE LISTENED TO ME, DUMBASS.” he growled as he latched onto the window with one hand. You gasped when you saw his figure and quickly pressed yourself into a corner, crouching down with your arms covering you.

It was no surprise what he was going to do next. He let out a loud cry as he reeled his hand back and sure enough, a loud explosion came. You felt the heat of it and the room filled with smoke which made you choke. But Bakugou had successfully melted the bars and though you didn’t hear him enter the room. You nearly screamed when he grabbed your wrist, his grip was a little too tight for your liking. “Come on, let’s go! Damn it!” he snapped before turning to run.  

You stumbled to keep up with him as he decided to take the fast approach and jump through the window. You took note that the bars though now melted had jagged ends that still burnt a light orange. “Uh Bakugou, slow down!” you pleaded and tried your best to break yourself of his grip. But he only laughed, “Scared, are you?” he stopped at the window and turned to face you. “You’re only going to slow me down if you’re like this.” he noted with an angry pout, “So come on, let’s go!” he demanded before roughly throwing you over his shoulder.

You were in disbelief and pounded your fists against his back. “Put me down!” you demanded but he ignored you before climbing onto the window sill. “W-Wait a minute, you’re not going to…” you realized too late and let out a scream as Bakugou carelessly jumped out the window, your nails dug into the back of his costume which seemed to catch his attention. “Your nails are digging into my skin! Stop it!” he demanded and his elbow came to try and jab you.

“Hey!” you cried out, the wind was causing your eyes to water and your hair was blowing around like crazy as you continued to fall. You instinctively let go in an attempt to get away from his elbow. But instead that sent you flying up and you let out another scream as you found yourself free falling. “Dumbass! What’d you let go for!?” Bakugou snapped as he tried to reach out for you, though the gap was too much.

Your panic wasn’t helping as your body spun around and before you realized. You had hit the ground with a loud thud and pain riddled your body causing you to let out a hiss. “Ouch…” you moaned out before trying to push yourself up, however, that’s when the ground began to shake again. “Oh no…” you yelped as you forced your body to sit up, your hand was desperately clenching your ribcage that radiated with pain and made it a difficult task to breath.

However, at that moment it didn’t matter. As seconds later, your breath hitched when a large shadow came and you trembled as you looked up. A scream caught in your throat as the mechanical beast reeled one of its sharp talons back. You knew what was going to happen next and much like before, you seemed to curl into a ball with your arms over your head. Just waiting for the impact that may or may not cause your death.

However, instead, you felt the heat of Bakugou’s explosion as the arm was severed. “Sheesh, can’t you do anything right!?” he snapped as he turned around to face you. Though you looked to be in bad shape, covered in dirt and a thin line of blood was seeping from your nose. Part of you wondered if it was from the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

But Bakugou didn’t seem to care about that and once more roughly grabbed you by your wrist and hosted you over his shoulder. You yelped in pain and hit his back with your fist. Trying to hold in the scream that was threatening to escape but Bakugou just huffed. “If you try escaping again, another robot is going to lock onto you. We need to make it to the exit, come on!” he snapped before he kicked off the ground.

Every time he took a step, his shoulder dug into your side and caused you more pain. You were in tears by the time he passed through the gate and a little surprised when he actually lowered you to your feet instead of just simply throwing you to the ground. “Well, you still have a few seconds to spare. So you completed the challenge, however.” Midnight walked over to you and lowered herself onto one knee.

She looked you over and took note of your current state which was a direct result of Bakugou’s carelessness. “You defeated the villains just fine, however you were sloppy with your rescue. You were careless when you decided to take the window as a means of entrance and injured your rescue victim. Not only that, but you also failed to ask if they had any injuries prior and you mishandled Y/n. That is, you decided to drag them by the wrist and throw them over your shoulder which is a horrible way to treat your rescue victim, and for that, you fail.” Midnight declared and Bakugou growled.

“WHAT THE HELL YOU MEAN FAIL!?” he snapped, his explosions sounding off. Midnight ignored him and looked to you, “Recovery Girl should be here any moment, after which we’ll be bringing in a special guest to show you all how a proper rescue is performed.” you swallowed and looked over as your classmates approached. Each one of them seemed concerned about your well being, but you couldn’t help but turn your attention to Bakugou who snapped at Kirishima and promptly stomped away.

Muttering something about how this was a stupid exercise. You disagreed and wondered if Bakugou was truly as bad as he seemed. He did put you through hell during the exercise, but was something else bothering him? You weren’t entirely sure, but you felt more or less relieved when Recovery Girl showed up and used her healing quirk to fix your injuries. You smiled, though you were still covered in dirt. At least the pain was gone.

“I was a little worried about you when I saw how Bakugou handled you, I almost wanted to hug you when that final obstacle came. I don’t like seeing you scared, Y/n.” you were too busy looking at your newly healed body that you didn’t notice when Mirio had walked over to you. “M-Mirio?” you questioned, seemingly in shock as you watched him smile at you. He was dressed in his hero costume and his cape blew gently behind him. “Yup, that’s me!” he declared with a large smile as he pointed to himself before offering you his hand.

“Looks like I’m up next to show your class how it’s done, but I’m really happy I get to rescue you, sunshine.” you couldn’t help the soft flush that came to your cheeks as he called you by that nickname. You wondered if he was just being nice or if that nickname was something special. Either way, you took his hand. “Well, well, well, I see you’re already acquainted with our brave hero.” Midnight said as she walked up to the two of you with a smile.

“Oh uh, yeah...we kind of are,” you admitted as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head before looking over your shoulder. You could swear you felt someone’s glance on you. Turns out, Bakugou had taken a few minutes to calm down before returning. He took note that once more Mirio seemed to be trying to take his spotlight, he partly wondered what the hell you saw in the third year.

It pissed him off that you’d even spend your time with Mirio, he was just playing you for a sap anyway. What third year was interested in a first-year? He crossed his arms over his chest and followed the rest of his classmates back to the observatory room. He was practically glaring at the screen which showed Mirio doing some stretches before taking off. He had a determined glance in his eye, along with a smile that wouldn’t soon fade.

Unlike Bakugou, who blew the enemies to pieces. Mirio was more skillful and careful to avoid making such a mess. Simply phasing through them before cutting their heads clean off. He smiled as he watched them fall to the ground and proceeded to the next level. The higher the level, the bigger the obstacle. But Mirio took them down with ease, that was in part due to the fact he had more experience.

Still, the way he handled the enemies and villains was something to be admired. Their bodies laid in the dust before he reached the final stage which was the biggest obstacle in his way. A hint of worry came across his features as he noticed the large robot was near the castle where you were being held. He needed to make sure you were protected as well as figure out a way to take down the enemy.

“Hey! Down here, big guy!” he called, effectively catching its attention. He could hear the mechanical whirring of gears as its head turned. “Target acquired,” it spoke and stepped toward Mirio, the ground shook underneath its massive weight but Mirio wasn’t intimidated. In fact, he smiled and continued to lead it away from your location. Sure, you were still someone he had to rescue. But as long as this big fella was away from you and you were still “safe” for the time being.

He’d be more at ease. However, once he was far enough away. The robot tried to land a hit, but Mirio was quick. Easily dodging the clawed hand that crashed into the ground, causing dirt and rock to scatter. He then circled around the robot and proceeded to use his quirk to phase through the ground, effectively disappearing from view. He smirked as he came back up and directed himself toward the robot’s foot, punching clear through it and making it off balance.

Once the robot fell to the ground, Mirio jumped onto its back and ran toward its head. Though he had to be careful as the robot squirmed and tried to push itself up once more. Mirio made quick work of disabling one of its arms by phasing through it, but at the last moment. He deactivated his quirk and used his foot to slice the appendage clean off. Then he went in for the kill.

He jumped up and used his legs to create a large dent in the robot’s head. He could see the various wires sparking through the broken metal. But at least it was down for the count. “Thanks for the fight! But, I’m off to save my sunshine!” he said as he waved the dying robot goodbye before making his way back to you. He smirked and phased through the wall of the castle, taking note of the many stairs and low-level robots.

“Hm…” he tapped his chin, debating if he should waste his time fighting them to get to you. As romantic as that would be. He could always climb up the castle like Bakugou had. “Oh, looks like our incredible hero is making a decision, what will he do next? After such a performance, he’s sure not to disappoint!” Midnight just had to comment and you rolled your eyes from your position in the locked tower. Truth be told, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.

Mirio and Bakugou seemed to be fighting over you an awful lot lately and you weren’t even sure where their affection had come from in the first place or if they actually had feelings for you. Bakugou seemed to be keeping his emotions at bay while Mirio was openly affectionate. If you ever had to make a choice between the two of them, you weren’t looking forward to the fight that would happen. You took a breath and crossed your arms before letting out a sigh.

“Sunshine.” you jumped when you heard Mirio’s voice and turned around. Almost snickering when you saw the way he was hanging onto the window, both hands were gripping onto the bars and it looked like his knees were bent which meant he was pressing both feet against the outside wall. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, are you injured?” he questioned, knowing that was an important aspect of rescuing someone.

After all, you had to make sure your rescue victim was alright or figure out a way to continue the rescue even if they were injured. You tried to bite back the smile coming before answering. “Yes, I’m alright.” Mirio nodded, “Well in that case.” you watched as he phased through the window and stood tall on his feet. His hands were on his hips and his smile was as bright as ever. He truly was the perfect picture of a hero and once more you felt yourself flushing.

Though from the observatory room, Bakugou was practically fuming. Clenching his jaw and his fists were coiled so tightly he was beginning to frighten his classmates. “Uh, heh. Bakugou are you…” Kirishima reached out to try and touch Bakugou’s shoulder but ended up stumbling back when Bakugou glared at him. “Shut the hell up, idiot!” he snapped before Jirou voiced her opinion.

“Sheesh, calm down. What are you so puffed up about?” she questioned before Bakugou turned his glare on her. “Shut it, lobes!” he snapped before crossing his arms over his chest, what the fuck did the third year have that he didn’t? He hated feeling as though he were beat, damn it. He had to figure out a way to win you over and quickly. “Here, I’ll carry you,” Mirio insisted before walking up to you, though you took a step back which made him pause.

He titled his head, “Are you okay?” he questioned and you almost felt ashamed for having stepped back. But you cleared your throat and nodded, “Y-Yeah. Sorry, I was just a little nervous. You’re not going to throw me over your shoulder, are you?”  you questioned and Mirio laughed, almost as if he found your words amusing.

“Of course not, a beautiful rescue victim doesn’t deserve that treatment. I was thinking more of doing this…” he smiled as he approached you and gently placed his arm around you and leaned down before placing his other arm underneath your legs. You squeaked as you found yourself being lifted into his arms and pressed up against his rather muscular chest. You couldn’t help but blush as you looked up at him.

He was pretty handsome, but when he was playing the part of a hero. Somehow, he became more attractive. Was that possible? You weren’t sure, but either way. You found yourself staring at him for longer than you should and Mirio turned his head to look at you. “Here, wrap your arms around me. I would never want to risk hurting you, so I hope you hold on tight,” he said, his voice as cheery as ever.

You nodded, “U-Uh, of course.” you replied before doing as he asked, though you already felt safe in his arms which said a lot. Unlike the tension you felt with Bakugou, Mirio’s positive attitude could put anyone at ease. “Alright, ready? I guess we’ll do the same as Bakugou and take the window,” he said before jumping onto the ledge. He surveyed the area, more than likely that same final obstacle would appear.

However, that was only if the sensors were set off and with you in his arms. He couldn’t use his quirk to avoid them, though he would never risk your safety and leave you behind. Though he could still try and avoid it if the sensors were on the ground. “Oh, what a daring rescue! What better way than in the arms of your daring hero. Oh, youth! I love it!” you almost wanted to roll your eyes, Midnight was certainly excitable.

Still, you wondered what Mirio was planning and you felt his grip on you tighten. “Hold on tight,” he warned before he stepped over the ledge and pressed his feet to the outside wall. He focused his quirk on his feet to keep himself on the right path. Much like before the wind was causing your hair to blow all over the place and you tucked your head into the crook of Mirio’s neck. “Hey, it’s alright. I got you, you are safe. Sunshine.” he spoke gently and it made a shiver run down your spine.

He smiled as he neared the ground and deactivated his quirk, allowing his feet to become solid once more. With his cape flowing behind him, he released his hold on your legs though his arm kept you tightly against his chest. He reached over, grabbing the end of his cape, and used the wind to help him change direction. You held on tightly, your eyes wide as you felt yourself shift. Mirio was now running along the side of the castle, something that surprised you.

Was he just planning on circling around until he got dizzy? It was a silly thought but a moment later, you felt him kick off the castle and go flying into the air. You gasped when you felt his cape wrap around you and looked up at him, even in the midst of the motion. You could see that kind smile looking down at you and soon his free arm came back to hold you, keeping you secure as you two hurtled toward the ground.

You thought you knew what he was doing and braced yourself for the impact. However, Mirio used his shoulder to land and effectively kept you shielded as he rolled along the ground. He got up before you could register what was happening, despite the fact yet another earthquake came. “Uh Mirio…” you said, a tad worried as you clung to the front of his costume. “Just don’t look back,” he instructed, his eyes seemed to be focused on something else.

He knew that there were two options to complete the rescue exercise. One was to defeat all the enemies and the other was to make it past the safe gate which was decorated with the image of Principal Nezu. Mirio was determined to make it to that gate, even with the mechanical beast quickly gaining speed on him. “Come on…” you heard him whisper to himself as he forced his legs to go faster.

At this moment he was your hero and he took that title with pride. Of course, he got a little nervous as he watched the shadow of the robotic arm reel back. More than likely ready to smash both of you, Mirio clenched his jaw. Damn. Well, guess he’d have no choice but to deal with the final obstacle while keeping you safe. “I’m going to protect you, but you have to trust me. Okay?” he said, though you were a little scared as to what was going to happen.

Your arms tightened around him, almost as if signaling he had your okay. He took a deep breath and waited until the shadow of that arm grew closer and used his instincts to time his jump. As soon as he felt that do or die emotion, he quickly dodged and used the arm as a point of leverage. He grunted as he landed on it, you were in disbelief as Mirio ran up the length of the arm and once more jumped into the air.

“You won’t hurt my sunshine!” he screamed before bringing his leg up, though he didn’t give it his all as his foot collided with the robot’s head. You could hear something rattle around, more than likely that kick was just a temporary distraction. “Ah!” you cried out as you saw the ground approach. However, Mirio once more proved he could handle himself and landed on the ground with ease. Still, holding you close though you were beginning to worry about the state of his legs.

Still, he continued on. Much like Bakugou, he held that determination of never giving up. No matter how bad it looked. You were still wrapped in his cape as he passed through the gate and the rescue exercise was finished. “Wow did you see that!? He took care of two things at once! That robot and he made sure to keep Y/n safe, that’s so manly!” Kirishima exclaimed before Bakugou elbowed him in the stomach.

“Shut up!” he snapped before following behind Midnight. He growled as he watched Mirio put you down and begin to receive praise from a few students. Mainly the damned nerd Deku and his gang of idiots. He growled and failed to notice that he was using his quirk, angry explosions sounded from his closed fists which caused a dark line of smoke to seep out from between the spaces of his fingers.

“Uh, Bakubro...you alright?” Sero asked as he walked up to the blond, Kaminari was right behind him. But he looked less brave as he cowered behind Sero. “I’m fine! This exercise was stupid anyway!” he snapped before shoving the two boys aside and stomping away much like before. He hated feeling this way, damn it.

He hated having feelings for you, he hated feeling jealous whenever that damned Togata was around. But at the same time, it made him all the more determined. He’d figure out a way to steal your heart away and make you forget all about that damned third year.

[sourbkg]

ｃｉｎｑ

ｆｉｃ  ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ

ｗｏｒｄ  ｃｏｕｎｔ:  ２１９３

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ:  ａｌｃｏｈｏｌ ｃｏｎｓｕｍｐｔｉｏｎ （ｂｙ ｏｔｈｅｒｓ）， ｓｏｆｔ ｂｋｇ

“Did you guys… race to the door?” You ask with a laugh, stepping in after Kiro. Mina grins, taking a dish from you while Kirishima takes the brownies from your brother. 

“Maybe. Do you blame us? We’re excited to have you around!” 

“That’s very sweet.” You laughed, following as the two set the dishes on the counter in the kitchen.

You look around the house as you walk, taking in the way he has the home decorated and set up. There’s some pictures of him and friends, what you can assume is family, and random paintings. It’s not bare, necessarily, but it’s tasteful from what you can see. Organized, there isn’t a mess in sight- well, if you take away the drinking cups and food trays brought from the adults. Kiro’s tugging on Kirishima’s arm the second he sets the brownies down, begging him to show him how to play some game the red head must've mentioned previously. You open your mouth to tell him to stop, but Mina squeezes your upper arm. 

“Don’t worry about Kiro, babe,” she hums, “everyone here’s used to having a kid around. Jirou and Kami’s daughter Mari usually comes with them to these things. They should be on the way, actually.” 

“Everyone?” You repeat, eyes narrowing, an unspoken question catching on your tongue. 

“Even Bakugou.” She laughs, tugging on your arm to guide you where everyone else has gathered. 

Kiro sits in Kirishima’s lap, pressing random buttons on the controller as the red head explains how to play Mario Kart while Bakugou sets up the game. The blonde’s eyes briefly travel to you and Mina as you make yourselves comfortable on either side of Kirishima, and you give him a small smile when you make eye contact. He turns his attention back to the game in return. 

“So, what’d you bring to eat?” Mina adjusts herself to where she’s facing you, leaning against the arm of the couch while Kirishima leans back slightly so the two of you can talk, “Me and Eiji- I mean Kiri brought drinks, we also grabbed some juice pouches for the kids.” She winks. 

“That’s smart, I didn’t even think about that.” You also adjust yourself, leaning against the other arm. Kiro gives you a toothy grin, showing you the controller and tries to explain how to play it, only to be corrected softly by Kirishima. “I made some  teriyaki tofu, broccoli gomaae, and brownies. I didn’t really know what kind of food you guys usually make, so…” 

“Yo, that sounds amazing,” Kiri practically drools, “I bet it’s as good as Bakugou’s cooking.” 

Bakugou’s shoulders tense at the proclamation, before muttering under his breath, “I doubt it.” 

You choose to not comment, instead turning your head when the door is thrown open. A small girl with blonde hair and dark eyes stands in the doorway, an obscure band tee hanging off her form that’s too many sizes too big, but the longsleeve and shorts under it seems to make up for the bagginess. She immediately pounces on Bakugou, throwing her arms around his shoulders with a giggle. 

“Mari!” Jirou calls, kicking in a stray volleyball while carrying alcohol in one hand and chips in another, “Come carry your toys!”

Bakugou stands with the girl dangling from his neck, keeping an arm around her waist in case she loses her grip, “You heard your mom, go help.” Mari puffs out her cheeks, but complies, dropping her arms and letting Bakugou set her down on the floor. Bakugou moves to take the beers from Jirou while a blonde man walks in, wearing a matching tee to Mari and carrying more alcohol, specifically beer. 

He makes immediate eye contact with Kirishima, pointing at the red head, “Hope you’re ready for a drink off.” 

“Bring it on.” Kirishima laughs, catching a can as he throws one. 

The blonde then looks at you, “Oh, you must be (l/n)! Kyoka told me about you! I’m Kaminari, but you can call me Denki!” 

“Just call me (y/n).” You answer awkwardly, before the stray volleyball makes contact with Kaminari’s face, followed by an annoyed Jirou. 

“Don’t flirt with everyone you meet!” 

Kirishima leans over to you, whispering, “Don’t worry about Kami’s flirting, he does that with everyone.” 

Your shoulders visibly relaxed, eyebrows raising when Kiro tuggs on your arm and points at Mari, who holds a juice pouch (being given to her by Bakugou). 

“You want one?” You asked, receiving a nod, “Alright, c’mon,” 

You both get up, getting whichever flavor he wanted and watched as the two compared juices with a smile. The two kids begin to talk as they drink their juice pouches, some nonsense only children would understand, before they’re scurrying away in a game of tag. 

“Don’t run in!… the house.” What starts as you calling out to your brother only ends with a sigh, hand on your hip. 

“‘S fine.” A voice says from beside you, making you jump. 

It’s Bakugou, who pulls out plates and silverware to set on the table. 

“Oh… uh, do you need help setting the table?” You offer, tilting your head slightly. 

He clicks his tongue, but gestures to the dishes that are out, “Go for it.” 

You take the plates and set up the table, then place napkins and silverware at each space, before he starts taking tinfoil off of the dishes you brought and you open chip bags, following him as he put everything on the table.

“Come make your plates!” He calls out suddenly, making you jump again. Everything had been unwrapped or brought out, save for the drinks and brownies. Bakugou made sashimi, which looked divine (but you’d never tell him that), and it seemed that aside from that, the only other real food was what you brought. 

Bakugou gestures for you to make plates for you and Kiro first, and when Kirishima voices complaints about it, he fixes him with a glare, “They helped set up plates.” 

Kirishima’s argument is lost while you quickly put food on two different plates, Bakugou following by making his own plate. Kaminari makes a plate for Mari, and you help the two kids settle in the living room in front of the tv on the coffee table. 

“Don’t spill anything on my carpet.” Bakugou warns, though the way Mari gives him a thumbs up with her tongue sticking out tells you there’s no real threat behind his words. 

When you settle back at the table with the adults, you realize there’s an empty chair. Maybe Bakugou miscounted how many people were coming? You were given your answer when the door opened, the black haired boy you’d seen a couple days ago walking in. He had a sleeve trailing up his left arm and under the tank top he wore, eyebrow pierced, and snake bites. 

“How dare you start eating without me.” He says with mock offense, going straight to the kitchen for a drink before coming back and settling in the empty seat you’d previously been thinking about. 

“Should’ve been here on time, soy sauce face.” Bakugou grumbles, taking a bite of the food he made. 

“‘Soy sauce face’?” You repeat, causing the newcomer's eyes to fall to you, he gives a fake frown. 

“You drink soy sauce as a dare one time in high school and a nickname sticks for life.” His frown turns to a grin, “The name’s Sero Hanta.” 

“(l/n) (y/n).” You return his smile, “(y/n)’s fine, though.” You begin eating as he makes his plate. 

Soon enough, everyone’s full and light conversation flows between the group. Kirishima and Mina thanked you more than one time for making what you did, saying it really did compliment Bakugou’s sashimi. You even think you hear the blonde mutter about everything you made being okay. And to your understanding, that’s a compliment coming from him. 

You and Jirou settle in the backyard after a while, Kaminari and Kirishima having already started their drinking challenge with Mina and Sero egging them on. Bakugou sits in the kitchen, putting food away while Mari and Kiro play with the ball Mari brought (you tried to help Bakugou with the dishes, but he waved you off and said something about not needing the help). The two of you talked about adult things; how your job is going so far, new ways to coerce the two kids to eat their vegetables, and what school Mari was going to attend when summer ended. Jirou threw a few suggestions of where Kiro could go, but ultimately helped you decide the school Mari was going would be the best bet. 

The water you’d been drinking was soon gone, and you left Jirou with the two kids with the promise of refilling both of your cups. You pause at the doorway of the living room, staring at the mess unfolding before you. Kirishima and Kaminari sit in front of each other, chugging beer after beer. Once one leaves their hands, Mina or Sero provides them with another, already cracked open. 

“Bet you Kiri’s winning.” Jirou says from beside you, making you jump at the sudden voice. She gives a giggle at your fright as you pass her her cup. 

“Where’s the kids?” You ask after a moment, realizing the two aren’t running around inside. You can still hear their screams of excitement, but it’s pretty late out. There should be someone standing outside with them-

“Bakugou’s got ‘em.” She hums, taking a sip from her drink. She notices the furrow of your brows and nudges your shoulder, “Don’t worry, he isn’t a bad babysitter.” 

It does little to ease your anxiety, seeing how rambunctious his friends get when they’re drunk. You ease your way back outside as Jirou joins Mina and Sero in encouraging either boy. You lean against the sliding door frame, watching the blonde fight off the two kids. Mari hangs from his bicep while Kiro latches on his leg. Bakugou groans dramatically, allowing himself to fall to one knee while Mari moves herself to his back, putting him in a faux chokehold and Kiro attaches to his free arm. 

You let out a small laugh, alerting the three of your presence. Bakugou’s head turns straight at you, while Kiro drops from Bakugou and runs over to you, grabbing your hand that doesn’t have water and practically drags you to where Mari still attempts to bring the blonde down. 

“(y/n)! You gotta help us take down Mr. Bakugou the Villain or else!!” 

“Or else what?” You laugh again, setting your cup down and placing your hands on your hips as Kiro jumps on Bakugou’s back as well, trying to use both of their weight to pull him down. 

“Or else he’ll destroy the city!” Mari answers, before the two let out a screech. Bakugou complies with their wishes, letting his body fall lax backwards. They didn’t take into account that he’d be on top of them. You can tell he’s holding some of his weight up, bracing his elbows in the grass on either side of him as Kiro and Mari squirm beneath him. 

You give a tilt of your head, “You’re gonna crush them Mr. Villain.” You nudge at his side slightly with your foot. He scrunches his nose. 

“I can’t let these dorks win.” He counters. 

There’s a muffled, ‘we’re not dorks!’ ‘yeah!’ but you really can’t decipher who said it, with their giggles intermingling and screeches being so high. He lets some of his weight fall, snickering at the grunts that follow. 

“Katsu, please!” Mari wails, hand coming around to hit at his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, do you guys give up?” He taunts, eyes cutting you for a brief moment. Kiro manages to wiggle himself out enough, legs still trapped beneath Bakugou and Mari. He lays on his stomach, one arm sandwiched beneath him while the other reaches out for assistance. 

“(y/n), help!” 

You stare down at the pile of limbs, looking between your brother’s outstretched hand to the male laying atop him. The blonde raises an eyebrow. A dare to try, if you’ve ever seen one. You reach down to pull him out, hearing him laugh maniacally at the prospect of escape, but Bakugou isn’t having it. There’s barely time to process his mumbled ‘oh no you don’t’ before he’s moving. 

Grabbing your arm and pulling you down while at the same time flipping you onto your back- you'd commend him for the smoothness of the attack, if you had the time to realize what even happened. A small oof is pulled from your lungs, the impact being dulled by an arm lying beneath your lower back. You blink, processing what just happened. Bakugou leers above you, fingers still brushing against your arm while his other arm moves from under you to cage you in. Red eyes scan over your features, before his attention is being drawn to the side. 

You hear someone yell ‘attack’, before his body is being shifted by two five-year-olds. He shakes his head momentarily, standing while the pair latch onto both his legs. You can only stare at him with a doe-eyed expression, blinking when he offers you a hand to help you up. You take it, mumbling a thanks, then watch as he walks back towards the house with seemingly no trouble- despite the extra weight sitting on his toes. 

--

{𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼} @mrsreina @cold-deep-water @pm4gal @dragonempress123 @my-neighbor-todoro @starsandkeysruler @goodpop9

[flamebearrel]

Split Number One

Fandom: Super Smash Bros

Synopsis: It was simple, really. Three formidable fighters, or at least two and a kid trying his best, but only one could be saved. As experienced, top-notch heroes, Mario and Kirby should have seen it all before. They could have easily made the right choice. Yet they didn't. And it doesn't seem the winner understands.

Word Count: 1607

Original Post Date: March 6, 2019

Characters: Villager, Mario, Kirby (Minor Master Hand, Sheik, Marth, Galeem)

Ships: None

Trigger Warnings: None

Other Notes: I see Villager as a kid (like twelve years old); Kirby can talk with a simple vocabulary; the Trophy rules kind of align with Subspace

Ao3 Link

~~~

Victory!

The R.O.B. clone fell to the floor before melting into a puddle of gold. As the substance slowly evaporated, they watched the Spirit inside rise from it. Mario gave a little smile. The Spirit floated for a moment, seeming to give a nod of appreciation, before flying away from the path and into safety.

“...I’m pretty sure that Guardian Spirit isn’t something we should just let go around,” Mario thought aloud, picking up the tiny puffball by his feet. Kirby blinked in response.

“Is that okay?”

“Eh, probably not, but don’t worry. There’s bigger things to think about.” The plumber put a hand on his friend’s head. “Let’s-a keep going, little guy.”

There were trophies on three sides of the courtyard, standing silently. The once-shimmering blue hair of the Hero King on the left had dulled. They looked up ahead, where Sheik towered menacingly, eyes void of any emotion. To the right stood the shortest of the three, Villager, with the smile he usually wore to battle wiped off his face.

Glancing between them, Mario felt something stir inside of him. Dismay, perhaps? All these fighters, individually trapped in eternal stasis, while he was up and running. With that train of thought, choosing who to save first felt like playing favorites.

So he’d leave that to his partner. The man with the red cap lowered Kirby to the floor again, asking, “Who do you want to help first?”

The puffball paused for a moment before running up to Villager. “Him!”

“Sounds good to me,” Mario said with a nod. Reaching down, counting in his head, the plumber tapped the base of the trophy and waited for the fight to begin.

~

It wasn’t that difficult with the both of them there. As Mario landed the final Super Jump Punch and sent Villager through the blast zone, the ropes of light circling his body tore to pieces. The mayor fell to the ground, battered, unconscious.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“Kirby,” Villager muttered, “Mario… what are you… ow, everything hurts…”

Immediately Kirby ran to him, ducking under the weakened fighter’s arm. “It’s okay.” He pushed, trying to help Villager up. “You’re okay now.”

“Huh…?”

As he got to his feet, the third member took in his surroundings. “Where are we…? How did we get here? I can only remember the light.”

Mario nodded. “That’s what we’ve-a been calling this place, the ‘World of Light’! Though I wish it was as pleasant as it sounded. We should… probably find a better name-”

“I’d say.” Holding Kirby’s stubby hand in his own, Villager stepped towards the center of the courtyard. “With all this ‘light, light, light’, I’m surprised we all aren’t blind by n-…”

There was nothing to do but trail off as the mayor rested his eyes on the other two trophies. He didn’t respond. For a moment, all that was there was the weight of the situation finding a seat in an audience of shoulders.

Then the plumber cleared his throat.

“Oh, uh…” Snapping back to the present, Villager turned to them again. “Sorry, I… we should probably help them out now, huh?”

“Just what I was thinking.”

With that, Kirby sauntered to Sheik. “Here, then! If we keep going, we can save everyone!” He reached out to tap the base of the ninja’s trophy. “So let’s-”

Flash.

The three of them jolted, grouping together at the center of the courtyard in sight of the giant hand that was suddenly there. It was a Master Hand clone, again, looming above.

“Stay behind me,” Mario growled. A fireball flickered into the palm of his hand and he took a step toward the clone-

But the right hand didn’t want to fight. He simply snapped his fingers, and bam, something was there. They could do nothing but watch in dismay as glowing energy shields formed around Sheik and Marth. And then the clone was gone, and Mario extinguished his fireball and everything was cold.

What could anyone say?

Mario ventured, “Well. This might be a bit harder than we thought.”

Then, all of a sudden, Villager was sprinting toward the shield, shrieking, “No! No, you can’t do that! You can’t!” Without his boxing gloves, he punched at the barrier, drawing back when it burned his hand. Then he put them on and tried again. It didn’t work either. “That’s not fair,” he screeched. He planted a tree, grew it to full height, then sent it toppling. The barrier left it in splinters. A bowling ball, a Lloid Rocket, everything was dropped on it, and nothing, nothing, nothing worked.

The other two watched a while, speechless.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Kirby rushed to the mayor’s side, pulling him back by his shirt. “Villager, stop, please! It’s not gonna do anything…”

“But I…” For a moment he resisted, but, slowly, he let the fireworks in his hands drop to the floor. He shook his head. The sparks fizzled away in the dust.

“…Are you okay?”

Quiet again. Stepping forward, ready to offer support, Mario opened his mouth- Yet no sound was allowed to escape him, because just then, Villager turned.

“Why did you do it?”

The man in overalls spluttered, “Wh-what?”

“Take a look around!” Villager gestured wildly at the shields, then at the rest of the world. “Everyone is dead, Mario! Just dead, completely dead, unless some hero can go out and save everyone. Do you know how impossible that is?”

“I know it sounds impossible, but I’m-a sure we can-”

“No, you don’t get it! Even if we did manage to save someone, Galeem would just mess it up again. Regular people can’t fix this!”

Reaching a gloved hand towards the younger fighter, Mario protested, “But we’re not regular people-! We wouldn’t be here if we were…”

“You’re not regular people,” hissed Villager, “but riddle me this! You have three choices: A warrior prince, a ninja, or some kid who panics as soon as the lights turn on. And you choose the kid? WHY?! What can I do that they can’t?” He scoffed. “I’m not a hero. I can’t save the world. I can barely even do my own job! So what do you want? Tell me! Do you want the extra burden, or just someone to pick on? Am I- am I comic relief?! Just- Just-! WHY DID YOU CHOOSE ME?!”

At that, his voice cracked.

Out of arguments, eyes glistening, the mayor simply repeated, “Why did you choose me…?” Then he slid down to the ground, in silence.

“…”

Mario stepped up to the younger fighter and took a seat next to him. He hesitated no longer that a moment. “Please, don’t-a go thinking that way. I stand by what I said, ya know? None of us are here without a reason. Like…” The man in overalls tapped his chin. “You’ve got confidence when you fight. It’s there in your smile, I see it. And- and you’re reasonable, something this team probably needs.”

“That’s a lie. Sheik and Marth wouldn’t yell at you as soon as they woke up.”

“This is your first apocalyptic disaster, paisano. If you haven’t seen ‘em in action, I wouldn’t be so sure!”

Villager pulled his knees close, staring at a crack in the stone floor. “Then I’ll never be sure, I guess.”

The plumber sighed. “Listen to me. We’re gonna save them; I can promise that. It might take a while, but we’re not stopping until everyone is here and everyone is safe. So what if you’re new to this? That-a doesn’t make you any less of a family member. You’re as much a part of this team as us, Villager. And we need your help just like you need ours.”

“We can all help each other,” Kirby chimed. A second passed without dispute before he pattered up and gave the mayor a hug.

Mario wrapped an arm around him too. Defeated, the kid leaned against the plumber’s chest, and the three simply sat. For a few seconds they were a single bundle of consciousness in a sleeping world.

“Okay,” Villager finally said. He straightened up. “Maybe, just maybe… You have a chance of being right. We should get back on the road.”

As the puffball next to them clapped his hands in satisfaction, Mario grinned. “There we go! It’s a good thing you finally came around- we can’t have the guy who holds the supplies be too upset to let us use ‘em!”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” He totally wasn’t smiling anyway.

The trio staggered to their feet and took their first steps down the rock path, Kirby leading the way. As he went to follow, Mario chanced one last look at the trophies behind him. The energy shields stared back, unyielding, undaunted, unbreakable.

Something about it shot dread through his veins. Galeem was toying with them. What else did he want? What else would he do?

Clearing these thoughts with a shake of his head, the red-capped man took off after the others. There wasn’t time to think about it. They just had to keep going. Going, going… Otherwise they’d never be able to save everyone.

It didn’t matter if there were more forked paths. It didn’t matter what Galeem was going to do. They’d fix it all, somehow. It couldn’t be impossible, because at the very least…

A Spirit whisked past then and there, nearly toppling them. Kirby looked at the other two, and when they nodded, he reached up to catch it like he would any other falling star. Another fight. Mario counted down…

Three, two, one.

Go.

At least they had conquered split number one.

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble Twenty-Two: Step

(Sorry I forgot to post this yesterday.)

“You know, I seriously don’t blame Rose,” Elise snickered, setting the bowl of popcorn down on Adrien’s coffee table. “I would totally leave my boyfriend for David Tennant too.”

Adrien cast a sideways glance at his friend. “You’re seeing someone?”

Elise rolled her eyes. “No, Candy Floss. You put me into retirement.”

Adrien winced. “Sorry…about that.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Please. You have since become my dorky little brother, and I love you. It was more…after the string of boyfriends I’d had, you were just the last straw. I’m a big girl capable of making mature decisions. I’m fine.”

“I wish I were a big girl capable of making mature decisions,” he snorted. “I’m still stuck in remedial Emotions 101 courses. I can’t wait until I achieve emotional maturity.”

“You’re getting there, Adrien,” Elise gently encouraged, prodding his calf with her socked foot. “You’ve made leaps and bounds of progress in the past two weeks…. Do you have any Pop-Tarts?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Just the box you smuggled in last time. I had to hide it in the back of the cabinet. If my dad found it…” Adrien shuddered. “For my dad, Pop-Tarts might as well be a type of drug. I might as well be hiding boxes of cocaine in my cabinet.”

Elise cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, “‘Boxes’ of cocaine?”

Adrien smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. What does cocaine usually come in? Bottles? Vials? Jars? I know it’s not a pill—right? It’s…like…a powder?”

Elise didn’t even try to hold back her laughter. “Oh, my pure baby boy. Someone has obviously never done drugs.”

Adrien kicked Elise’s foot. “Oh, like you have?”

Elise shook her head. “No, but I’m a lot less sheltered than you are, Candy Floss. Some of the other models I’ve met have been drug users, and I dated a guy once who did drugs. I’ve been drugged once or twice at parties, but—” Elise stopped abruptly at the look of horror on Adrien’s face. She fluttered her hands ineffectually. “Candy Floss, it was fine. Someone just spiked my drink is all. I was with friends, and they took care of me, so nothing happened, and it wasn’t a big deal, so don’t even worry about it.”

“How can that not be a big deal?” he mumbled, feeling sick.

She reached out and gave his scalp a comforting rub. “Shh. This world is a rough place. It is a big deal, but if I used up mental energy on all the times something was unfair or wrong or someone tried to take advantage of me, I wouldn’t have the time or energy to enjoy the good things in my life. Like Pop-Tarts.” She smiled disarmingly. “Now, be a dear and go fetch them? Pretty please?” She batted her eyes.

Adrien sighed, letting it go. He pushed himself up from the couch. “Pop-Tarts coming right up.”

“Thank you!” Elise trilled in delight. “You are seriously the best.”

Adrien had just opened his mouth to retort when his phone on the coffee table began to ring. “If it’s Nino, could you pick up and tell him we’re busy?”

Elise bit her lip. “It’s not Nino.”

Adrien arched and eyebrow. “Who is it?”

Elise looked anxious. “…Marinette.”

Adrien cursed, hoping over the back of the couch to land on the seat. He looked between his phone and Elise in utter panic. “What do I do?”

“Answer your phone,” Elise snorted in exasperation.

“But what if she called me by mistake?” Adrien squeaked. “What if she didn’t mean to call me and I pick up and it’s really awkward and she doesn’t want to talk to me? I will be crushed, Elise. Crushed. Gutted. Absolutely gutted. Yeah, I’ve been getting a lot better recently, but I’m still insanely in love with her, and I haven’t built up enough resilience to be able to take rejection again.”

“I swear, Adrien,” Elise grumbled, reaching for the phone. “You’re almost as bad as her when it comes to catastrophizing. I’m going to do you a favor.”

Elise picked up the phone and answered the call before Adrien could tackle her and put a stop to it. “Hi there, M&M! It’s Elise. How are you doing, Sweetie?”

Marinette nearly dropped her phone. “E-Elise?” She’d psyched herself up so much to talk to Adrien again that her subverted expectations had her panicking. “I…uh…I called…why are…where is…?”

“I’m actually over at Adrien’s house,” Elise confessed, helping the poor girl out. “I was getting ready to leave,” she lied, “and I asked to borrow this book he was talking about, but it’s in the study or the library or whatever those rich people call it, so he went to go fetch it.”

Adrien frowned and mouthed, “What are you doing?”, anxiety plain and clear on his face.

Elise ignored him. “I’m sorry for answering his phone like this, but he left it sitting on the coffee table, and when I saw it was you, I figured I should pick up because I know how much he misses you.”

Adrien made an x with his arms and shook his head violently.

Marinette made a choking sound on the other end of the line. “M-Misses…me?”

“Of course, Sweetie. You two are best friends, and he hasn’t seen you in weeks. I’m doing my best to fill in, but I’m a poor substitute,” Elise laughed airily.

Adrien frowned, a sad look in his eyes. Elise could almost hear him say, “That’s not true”.

She waved away his concern on her behalf. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to talk to you as soon as he gets back from getting the book and sees me out the door. Did you need something in particular, Marinette, or can I just have him call you back after I leave?”

“Oh…uh…It was nothing in particular. I just…I miss him too. I was just calling to check in and see how he was doing…. Just…you know. Hear his voice,” Marinette explained, face going vermilion.

Elise hummed softly. “Yes. I’ve been there. I know the feeling. I’ll make sure he calls you back, Sweetie. You take care now.”

“Thanks, Elise,” Marinette mumbled.

Elise ended the call with a smirk. “She misses you too,” she snickered. “She was just calling to check in on you and because she wanted to hear the sound of your voice.”

Adrien’s face flushed. “O-Oh?”

“Candy Floss, she is so stuck on you.” Elise gave him a playful shove.

“Yeah?” Adrien chuckled, wearing an embarrassed yet pleased expression as he rubbed at his neck where the bruises were no longer visible.

“Definitely,” Elise giggled. “Okay. Now, let’s get down to business. You need to wait at least four or five minutes before you call her back.”

Adrien blanched. “Call her back?”

Elise nodded solemnly. “I said you were going to call her back. If you don’t, she’ll think I’m a bad person because I forgot to tell you, or she’ll think she’s not important to you because you didn’t care enough to actually return the call. You’re familiar with how ridiculous Marinette can get with worst-case scenarios. Save her the panic attack and call her back.”

“But…I can’t just have a phone conversation in front of you. That’s rude. We’re supposed to be hanging out and spending time together,” Adrien argued.

Elise rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Adrien, I’ll just text with Chloé or something. Don’t even worry about that.”

“But what do I say to her?” Panic ratchetted up the pitch of Adrien’s voice.

“Words. Sentences maybe. Preferably in French. Honestly,” Elise sighed. “Candy Floss, you just need to chillax and talk to her. You’ve talked to her thousands of times; you know how to do this. You talked to her well enough at the photoshoot the other week. You’re fine.”

Adrien pursed his lips, not buying it.

“If you want,” Elise offered, “put the call on speaker, and I’ll sit here with you and help you out if you get stuck on what to say.”

Adrien stared at her incredulously. “Do people do that?”

Elise shook her head slowly. “Girls do that all the time. But you’re not going to need me. You know how to talk to Marinette.”

Adrien gulped. “It feels different somehow now.”

Elise gave Adrien’s head another pat while she kept track of the time.

Once four minutes had passed, Elise picked up Adrien’s phone, unlocked it, and dialed Marinette so that there was no way for Adrien to chicken out.

“H-Hello?” Marinette greeted timidly, picking up on the first ring.

Elise pantomimed taking a deep breath.

Adrien did. “Hi, Marinette. How are you?”

Elise gave him a thumbs up.

“Oh, hi. Hi, Adrien. I’m good. I’m hanging in there,” Marinette chuckled nervously, struggling to find her footing. “How about you?”

“I’m tolerably well, actually,” Adrien replied, heart soaring at the sound of her chuckle. “Elise said you’d called? Did you need something, or…?”

Marinette gave a start. “Oh! Oh, no. I didn’t exactly need anything. I was just…I missed talking to you, and I thought…maybe now, since it’s been a couple weeks, it would be okay to check in.”

“I miss talking to you too,” Adrien confessed, his voice giving a little too much away.

Marinette flushed but did not comment. “So what have you been up to lately?”

Adrien shrugged, drawing up his knees to his chest. “Oh, lots of things. Dad has let up on the extra curriculars, so I have a lot more time now to do things I actually want to do…which, ironically, turned out to be watching dramas in Chinese, fencing with Kagami, and playing arrangements of popular music on the piano, if you can believe it. It’s more fun when I get to choose my activities myself.”

Marinette laughed along with him at this. “Oh, Adrien.”

Adrien melted. “Sometimes I can even get my dad to play four-handed pieces with me now that he’s making a conscientious effort to be a real parent.”

“That’s wonderful!” Marinette congratulated. “What else have you been doing with yourself?”

“Nathalie, Dad, and I are doing family activities. We’re having breakfast together every day and some dinners. Sometimes we watch movies or play board games. Nathalie is a bit of a card sharp, and Dad and I think she cheats at Mario Party too,” Adrien informed eagerly. 

He had so much to tell her, so much to catch her up on. They’d missed a lot the past month.

“Dad and I were talking about me going back to modeling too,” he continued with more reservation.

He wasn’t sure if he should say, “so maybe we’ll be working together” or “I’m looking forward to seeing more of you at work”. He wasn’t sure if this phone call meant he was allowed out of exile yet. Maybe this was his probationary hearing. If so, he shouldn’t sound so excited about being allowed to interact with her. He had to play it cool and prove that he was stable enough to be permitted visiting rights.

“But not as much as I used to,” Adrien added instead. “I was promised no more rigid schedules, but…Dad kind of would like for me to continue to be the face of the brand.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Marinette wondered, biting her lip.

“Ambivalent,” Adrien decided. “I don’t really like modeling much. Sometimes it’s fun, but most days it’s a pain. It pays well, though, and the fame will be useful later…and Dad and I worked out a compromise. If I keep modeling at a reduced rate and go to university for Business, I’m allowed to study Theatre too.”

“What?!” Marinette squealed, jumping to her feet to bounce in glee. “Oh my gosh! Adrien, are you serious?! He’s going to let you act?!”

“Any roles I want to take have to be run by him and the marketing team to ensure compatibility with my public image, but, yes. He’s going to let me act.”

Marinette screamed in delight. “Oh my God! I am so freaking happy for you! This is wonderful! This is really, really wonderful.”

She wanted to hug him. She wanted to bake him a cake and throw him a party to celebrate, but…she wasn’t sure she could do that without crossing lines and setting them both back in their recoveries. And, of course, the matter had recently become even more complicated on her end. She couldn’t risk messing things up for all involved parties.

“Congratulations, Minou,” she whispered, voice full of conflicting emotions.

“Thanks, Princess,” Adrien purred, heart swelling at the token of intimacy he’d been rewarded with. “…So what is Milady up to recently?”

He was tired of listening to the sound of his own voice. He wanted to hear hers.

“Oh, end of high school scramble,” she sighed, collapsing back down onto her chaise. “Helping my parents. The usual blah blah blah. My internship is keeping me pretty busy too. You know, I can’t tell if your father hates me or if he wants me to succeed. I mean, he is constantly setting me up to fail, but then he looks so pleased when I manage to pull it off anyway. I don’t get him.”

“He’s trying to challenge you so you’ll have opportunities to grow,” Adrien explained. “At least, that’s what it sounds like when he talks about you.”

“You think?” Marinette sighed. “Maybe that’s a part of it, but I seriously think he derives a sadistic pleasure from watching me struggle.”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully before admitting, “Yeah. Okay. That may be part of it too, but I’ve specifically told him I will never forgive him if he bullies you because of me, so if he’s being a jerk—you know, outside of the normal parameters of figuratively being a boss from hell—tell me, and I will casually remind him not to mess with you.”

“Thanks,” Marinette chuckled tiredly. “It’s not like that, though. He’s tough, and he makes me work hard, but he’s not cruel. He’s not completely unreasonable. Not unreasonably unreasonable, I mean. He’s definitely unreasonable, but he’s not unreasonable to just me. It’s been a good experience working with him.”

“I think you are the only person on the face of this earth with that opinion,” Adrien chortled. “I don’t even think Nathalie would agree with you, and she’s marrying him.”

“…What?” Marinette sat up, pulled the phone away from her ear, and stared at it.

“…Oh.” Adrien frowned. “God, it has been forever since I last talked to you. My parents are getting married in a couple months. After years of me badgering Nathalie, they’re finally getting married completely out of the blue.”

“Wow,” Marinette mumbled, shocked. “Wow. That’s… Congratulations. You must be really excited.”

“I am,” Adrien chuckled, unable to keep from grinning. “It feels like, after years of being an orphan to my father’s grief over losing my mother, I finally have a family again. It’s really—” Adrien’s voice caught in his throat unexpectedly at the overflow of emotions. “It’s really nice,” he finished. “After watching you guys and your families over the years, it’s nice to finally feel like I have one too. Like…you have no idea what it feels like to finally have something that you’ve wanted so bad while everyone else just took it for granted.”

“Oh, Minou,” Marinette cooed.

He could almost feel her arms around him from the tenderness in her voice.

“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered. “I am so happy that things are finally falling into place for you. You deserve this. You’ve deserved this all along, and it just killed me that there was nothing I could do to give it to you.”

Her hands ached to run through his hair. She wanted to hold him and nuzzle his neck. It almost physically hurt not to be able to touch him.

“Thanks,” Adrien chuckled, recovering his composure. “So…aren’t you working on the new Gabriel bridal line?”

“Oh my gosh!” Marinette sucked in a long breath. “Is this what that’s for?!”

Adrien laughed harder. “Yeah. Dad thought it would be a good publicity stunt. Nathalie is not thrilled. …Have you seen the best man’s suit?”

“Yes?” Marinette cocked her head to the side, wondering what he was getting at.

“That’s me…so you should design yourself a dress to match.”

Elise flicked Adrien’s arm and shook her head.

Adrien looked back at his friend in innocent confusion. “Er…is it too early to ask you to be my date?”

Elise buried her face in her hands, whispering, “‘Plus one’. Not ‘date’.”

“Or we could just go as friends if you’d rather be my plus one,” Adrien attempted to correct. “I just thought that in a few months… Sorry. Um…maybe I should ask you again closer to time?”

Marinette did not respond.

Adrien paled. “Sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… Look, you’re probably invited anyway. We don’t have to go together. You don’t even have to associate with me if you somehow still need space in a few months. I just assumed…”

Elise grabbed Adrien’s arm and whispered, “Candy Floss, slow down and breathe. Play it cool.”

Adrien nodded, breathing in time with Elise.

“Sorry,” Marinette finally replied. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I was thinking about…” The dress she would design to match his suit. The delicate purples and blues and greys of the wedding’s color palette and the butterfly and peacock theme.

She had been thinking about Adrien. Adrien in that suit…Adrien out of that suit…and the intervening stages between the two.

“I don’t know yet,” Marinette answered honestly. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“I’m getting better, you know,” Adrien mumbled sullenly. “I wish you could see that.”

“I can,” Marinette assured. “I can tell just from talking to you that you seem happier than you have been since you decided to give up on—” She broke off suddenly as she remembered that it was she who had kicked off this dark time in his life.

“Yeah, but the problem is that you haven’t talked to me in forever,” Adrien pressed. “I know Nino and Alya are probably keeping you in the loop, but how are you going to be able to tell when I’m good enough if you don’t talk to me?”

“Good enough?” Marinette echoed. “What do you mean ‘good enough’?”

For you to want to be with me, was on the tip of his tongue.

Elise squeezed his bicep.

Adrien took a breath. “You know. Well enough,” he explained in an attempt not to look pathetic. “Better.”

Marinette was quiet for a moment.

Adrien could hear her inhale deeply and slowly release the breath before she responded, “Adrien, I know you have no way of knowing this, but I’m kind of a wreck. Not just right now but in general. Sometimes have been better than others, but you’re not the only one who needs to work on yourself. I’ve got a lot that I’m sorting through, and I need some time on my own to get things straight. I know you think I’m wonderful, but I’m telling you right now that I suck, and I don’t have things as together as I might pretend to in public. You’re not the only one with issues. You are not the only reason a relationship isn’t a good idea right now. I am at least half the problem…and I’m sorry I’m not better. I know I’m really letting you down, especially lately.”

She was right. He had been feeling let down by her lack of presence in his life when he most needed her support, but he wasn’t about to tell her that to her face.

“No, Princess,” he whispered. “You’re fine. You’re perfect, so don’t worry about it. I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

Guilt drenched Marinette like a tidal wave. Her voice stuck in her throat.

“So…” Adrien sighed when enough time had passed to be able to tell that Marinette was not going to respond. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be interested in getting coffee together and catching up?”

“No,” Marinette replied in a small voice. “I don’t think that would be a good idea right now.”

She couldn’t see him and not touch him, and she knew that as soon as she touched him, they’d happily fall over into the abyss together. And Marinette wasn’t free to do that.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Adrien grumbled, some of his frustration leaking into his voice.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“…And…am I allowed to call you now or text you or…? No?” he tried.

She bit her lip. “Not texting. Maybe…if you want to call me from time to time…I can’t promise that I’ll always pick up, but…”

His heart broke a little. Was she just saying that to placate him? Would he call and call and call and never get a response? That’s kind of what it sounded like, but maybe he was being overly pessimistic.

“Okay,” he agreed because what other choice did he have?

There was silence and pain.

Elise wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in to rest his head on her shoulder.

He snuggled into her neck.

She gave him a squeeze.

“…So…” Marinette spoke tentatively. “Have you done anything fun lately?”

He sighed and accepted her attempt to return the levity to their conversation. “I mean, yeah. I’ve been hanging out with friends a lot, trying to get out of the house. Keeping busy. Actually, on Thursday, I went with Elise, Nino, Chloé, and Kagami to a karaoke bar, and that was a ton of fun.”

“That’s…an unusual assortment of people,” Marinette replied, blinking in amazement.

“Nino’s putting up with Chloé for my sake and vice versa, but I think they’re starting to come to an understanding,” Adrien explained. “Chloé and Kagami might be bonding over a shared dislike of you, though,” he shamefacedly admitted.

“I see.” Marinette grimaced. “I can’t say that I’m surprised. Oh well. So long as you’re all having fun together.”

“We are,” Adrien confirmed. “Thursday was pretty great. We sang a lot of eighties songs. Elise is a fan, so…and Nino and Chloé were a little drunk, so they went with it. Kagami was a surprisingly good sport. She’s actually a karaoke champ…and can really hold her liquor.”

“What did you sing?” Marinette giggled, curling up on her chaise and hugging her throw pillow to her chest.

“Madonna’s Like a Prayer, It’s Raining Men with Elise and Chloé, Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out for a Hero—You know, after I sang that, some guy in his late twenties came up to me and offered to be my hero,” Adrien snickered.

“Oh my gosh!” Marinette cackled. “No!”

“Yes!” Adrien insisted. “He was all over me. Back at the table, I could see Nino getting ready to march over and fight the guy. Kagami had to hold him back.”

“What happened? What did you say?” Marinette prompted.

“I was kind of stunned. I mean, guys have flirted with me before, but…usually they don’t get so into my space. I sort of just went with it and flirted back a little?” Adrien admitted, blushing anew at the memory of the other man’s hand on his hip, on his butt.

“What?” Marinette choked.

“Apparently I still struggle with saying no to unsolicited affection,” Adrien groaned. “The attention was kind of nice, especially since I’ve been feeling so low lately, but then he told me he was secretly Chat Noir and invited me back to his place to show me all the different tricks he could do with his baton—”

“—You are not serious—”

“—and I told him that I’d slept with Chat Noir before and that Chat actually preferred to be on the receiving end of things.”

Marinette burst out laughing. “You didn’t!!! You didn’t!”

“I totally did,” Adrien snickered proudly.

“And what did he say?!” Marinette demanded.

“He asked if I was serious, and I said yes.” Adrien shrugged. “Then I excused myself and went back to singing.”

“I cannot believe that,” Marinette snorted.

“Why not? I mean, he was cute, but I don’t sleep with guys, so at that point there was no point in talking to him anymore. I didn’t want to lead him on or anything.”

“I can’t believe you got hit on like that,” Marinette rephrased.

“You would if you had seen what I was wearing,” Adrien teased. “The first word out of Nino’s mouth when he saw me was, ‘Meowzzah’.”

Marinette broke into a giggle fit all over again.

“Seriously. Chat Noir isn’t the only guy whose butt looks good in leather pants. And the shirt I was wearing was so tight and so thin, it might as well have been body paint. Chloé dressed me, and Elise did my makeup. The words ‘sex kitten’ might have gotten tossed around a little. Nino started it, but Kagami and Chloé quickly picked it up.”

“And your father let you leave the house like that?” Marinette scoffed.

“Chloé made me change at her house…but I’m sure my dad has seen photos by now, so I’m really wondering why I haven’t been grounded yet. I mean, he’s gotten dramatically more chill this past month, but I know I crossed a line Thursday. Maybe Nathalie interceded on my behalf or something? God forbid he actually let me go out there and make my own choices…I think. I don’t know. The rules seem to have changed lately, but I haven’t received an updated copy of the rulebook yet. Dad’s been reading a lot of parenting guidebooks, so maybe…I don’t know. I had a lot of fun, though, and if he wants to ground me later, that’s fine. At least I got to have fun like a normal eighteen-year-old for a little while.”

Marinette hummed thoughtfully. “I’m glad you got to have fun…. Did you sing anything else?”

“Total Eclipse of the Heart with Nino at Elise’s insistence,” Adrien chuckled, eagerly slipping back into the narrative. “And I actually got some requests from total strangers too, so I ended up singing a lot more than I had intended. The crowd seemed into it, though. I’m sure there are photos and videos on the internet because people definitely recognized me. Like I said, I’m surprised I haven’t gotten in trouble yet.”

“What did you tell your father you were doing?” Marinette had to wonder.

Adrien smirked. “Going to do karaoke with friends. I might have given him the impression that I would be doing so in a private room, but…I was surprised that he said yes in the first place.”

“That…Yeah…” Marinette muttered, trying to wrap her head around a Gabriel Agreste who was not unreasonable, domineering, and controlling.

“Have you done anything fun recently, Princess?” Adrien’s voice brought her back into the conversation. “I know you said you were super busy, but have you managed to squeeze something purely enjoyable into your schedule?”

Marinette blushed, guilt surging up her sternum. “I’m…yeah. Yeah, I have. You know that band that Rose and Ivan are in?”

“Kitty Section? What about it?”

“Well, I’ve been hanging out with them a lot. I’ve been working on promotional posters, new costumes, their album cover…going to get crêpes with the band…going dancing with the band. Jagged sent me tickets for his concert the other night, and I went with…with Luka, the guitarist. You remember Juleka’s older brother Luka?”

Adrien perked up. “Of course I remember Luka. He gave me guitar lessons for a while. He’s super cool!”

“Yeah, well, Luka was the only one able to go, so…so I went to the concert with Luka, and we got dinner and went for a walk afterwards, and…I had a really nice time. It was fun,” Marinette whispered almost plaintively.

Elise shifted uncomfortably, picking up on something that Adrien had missed.

Adrien lifted his head from her shoulder to give her a quirked eyebrow and a questioning look.

Elise smiled reassuringly, shaking her head and pulling him back into her.

Adrien settled against her and easily dismissed the incident.

“That’s good, Marinette,” Adrien replied cheerily. “I’m glad you got to do something fun, even though you’re really busy.”

“Y-Yeah. Thanks,” Marinette responded, an uncertainty to her voice. “Actually, I’ve been hanging out with Luka a lot lately. And the others, of course, but…Luka and I have been friends for a while; I just haven’t been spending a lot of time with him the past few years for one reason or another, but…recently I’ve been thinking it would be good to reconnect with him and a couple of my other old friends, so…Luka and I have been reconnecting.”

“That’s good!” Adrien encouraged. “I’ve been doing the same thing with Chloé and Kagami and Wayem, and I think that’s really helped me, widening my support system…. You know, it’s been a while since I’ve hung out with Luka too. Maybe once you and I are okay again, you, Luka, and I can all do something together.”

Marinette went stock still.

Elise squeezed Adrien a little tighter, sighing quietly as she nuzzled his hair.

“I’d love to see him.” Adrien chattered on obliviously. “I’ve always kind of had a platonic crush on him. He’s super cool.”

“Haha. Yeah,” Marinette laughed through her internal panic. “I’m sure…I’m sure Luka would love to see you too. He thinks you’re really interesting—Listen, it’s been great talking with you, Adrien, but I have to go,” Marinette informed hurriedly.

“Oh,” Adrien replied softly in disappointment. “Well—”

“—Take care, okay?” Marinette cut him off in her rush to escape before she could be found out and end up hurting him even more. “I’m so glad things are going well. I miss you.”

She rang off before he could get a word in edgewise.

Adrien blinked down at the phone for a beat before lifting his head to blink at Elise. “What do you think that was about?”

Elise ruffled Adrien’s hair. “Oh, you know Marinette,” she chuckled nervously. “She’s such a spazz. She probably forgot she was supposed to be helping her parents or she left something in the oven too long or she suddenly remembered she needed to cancel her Netflix subscription or…you know.”

Adrien shrugged, sitting up. “Yeah. I am intimately acquainted with the varied ways Marinette can be a total spazz…but I think that went well, don’t you?” He looked up at his friend cheerfully, eyes sparkling in excitement.

Elise smiled sadly, muttering a subdued, “Yeah. Yeah, that went great, Candy Floss. I’m proud of you.”

Adrien frowned interrogatively. “What?”

Elise shook her head. “Nothing.”

“No. Seriously. What?” Adrien repeated. “What’s that look for? What did I screw up?”

Elise shook her head again. “Nothing. It’s not you. It’s…”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him what she suspected. She hoped she was wrong.

Elise wrapped her arms around him in a boa constrictor squeeze as she assured, “You did great. I can tell what good friends you and Marinette are, how close you are. Your friendship will weather this, Candy Floss. You’re going to get through this,” she whispered, praying she was right.

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, nuzzling her auburn hair and relishing the easy affection. “I’m a lot better already. I’ll be ready when Marinette is. Thanks for your help, Lise.”

“Anytime.” Elise gave Adrien another squeeze and let him go. “Ready for another episode of Doctor Who?”

Adrien checked his phone for the time. “Aren’t we supposed to be memorizing tendons and ligaments and stuff? For your test on Tuesday?”

Elise frowned. “But…David Tennant.”

“But…your scholarship,” Adrien echoed, trying to keep from smiling. “Don’t make me have to pay for your med school. You know I’ll do it.”

Elise hissed like a cat. “Don’t you dare. I would never let you,” she scolded. “That is not the reason I’m friends with you, Adrien Agreste.”

“I know,” Adrien tittered. “That’s why I’d gladly do it. I don’t have a lot of people like you and Nino in my life. I want to take care of you like you take care of me…and financial backing is one way I can do that.”

Elise rolled her eyes. “Shut your pie hole and go and get me the Pop-Tarts. I need sugar to study for my test.” She grabbed her bag from under the coffee table and pulled out her textbook.

(So, I invited the readers on AO3 to try their hand at writing the “missing” karaoke chapter. I think I have one taker so far. In the alternative, I invite you to take a stab at drawing Adrien’s karaoke outfit. ^.^)

[benjikarofsky]

Once Upon a Dream || Para

WHO: Benji Karofsky (@benjikarofsky) and Topher Pierce (@topherxpierce​). Mentions Franco Del Rio ( @southsidefranco )

WHERE: “Benji’s Apartment”

WHEN: 15th May 2019

NOTES: Still hiding at Sebastian’s, Benji finds himself thinking about Topher in a fairly unusual way.

TRIGGERS: N/a

BOLD: Benji

ITALIC: Topher

WORD COUNT: 2173

Benji closed his eyes, still trying to get used to the feeling of sleeping in a bedroom other than his own. He had gotten so used to his apartment--the feeling of Franco in his arms, the sounds of Cortana sleeping in the hallway, the presence of knowing Topher was asleep just one room over... he had grown to love it. And the longer he was away from it, desperately trying to think, the longer he realized he missed it. 

He faded off quickly and within seconds was transported back into his apartment, waking up on the couch. "...Guys?" he called lightly, slowly walking from the couch to the hallway between his room and Topher's, "...Cort? Toph? Franc? ...Anyone here?"

Topher felt as though he was experiencing every emotion at the same time with the most prominent of them being fear. There was no relief that came with laying on his bed, no waves of happiness at Cortana's presence, just shockwaves of worry that struck constantly in the form of shivering. Mercy seemed to be quite the foreign concept, so the former Serpent set off towards the living room in the hopes that a game or show might provide some sort of distraction. 

He settled in his favorite chair after he'd loaded up Gears of War 2 and couldn't help a small smile when he noticed that Cortana had followed him then decided to rest by his feet. Topher hoped that he could push past all the memories of various gaming marathons with Benji, that he could just focus on the task at hand. He'd restarted the campaign the night before then paused right before he got to the so called 'impossible' level, only because his neverending concern made him sleepy.

Benji saw Topher pass him and turned, "Toph!" he called, following him and Cortana back to the living room. "Toph, I'm home," he stated, sitting on the sofa next to Topher and his chair. 

"Hey, Cort. Toph gave you your insulin while I was gone, right? You look good." He put his hand out for Cortana to lick, but paused when she didn't seem to notice, choosing to cuddle closer to Topher's feet instead. "Uh... okay. 3 days was a long time. I get it. Kinda cold though, Cort..." 

He pulled his hand back awkwardly, then turned to the TV, not realizing his best friend wasn't acknowledging him in any way. "Wait, you're replaying 2 without me? No way, Dude. I want in. Change it to split screen." He looked around for the second controller, confused that he didn't see it anywhere. "Dude, where's the controllers? I want in," he said, finally turning to look at Topher.

Topher just tried to maintain his concentration on the game, but it didn't take long for him to screw up. "Son of a -," he trailed off as he watched Marcus get annihilated by Locust all because his mind wandered for just a moment. Cort glanced up at him as if she wanted an explanation for the outburst. "It's nothing, go back to sleep honey," the former Serpent cooed, even though it couldn't have been further from the truth. 

 He remembered the repeated playthroughs of each game as if they happened yesterday. Topher knew that he could handle himself playing any game from Gears to Mario Kart, but there was still something about teaming up with Benji that made every puzzle piece fall into place. They were an army of two, an unstoppable duo. And yet the radio silence continues, he thought to himself as he removed his phone from a sweatshirt pocket. 

 "I know you can't answer me, but let's pretend you can. Cort, what's wrong with me?" Topher paused the game in order to look down at her. She just let out a sigh that was interpreted as an 'I don't know' of sorts. "Were any of those anons on to something and Benji's not coming back? Or am I just letting paranoia get the best of me?"

"What? Toph, I'm right here." He waved his hands in front of Topher's face, "I know you're pissed I left, but the silent treatment's pretty harsh as-is. It's another thing to somehow get Cort in on it." 

He bit his lip, processing the rest of what Topher said. "...I didn't mean to freak you out. I just needed to think, and I... I didn't want you to tempt me. I know he already cheated on me, but I couldn't cheat on Franc. I love him too much." 

He swallowed. "I... I don't wanna be married to Franco. Not right now, anyway. Not while he doesn't acknowledge the sacrifices I've made for him. But I do love him. And I don't mind the long engagement as much as I thought I did. B... But I love you just as much." He sighed. "And I... looked at that 'poly' stuff. Like you said. And it's still a lot to get used to... and Franco'll probably try to kill us for suggesting it, but I think it's the right solution," he rattled off--obviously the time alone had helped him think more than he first realized. 

"...Because I love you. And I want to be with you." When Topher didn't respond, he sighed louder, throwing his hands up in defeat. "...Toph, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you why I left. I didn't want Franc to find out and try to fight you or something! Just... please forgive me. It's been 4 days and 5 hours since you told me you loved me back. I wanna get this fixed so I can think about kissing you without feeling guilty. Please."

Topher continued to play Gears and as a result, failed spectacularly plenty more times in the span of a few minutes. He eventually placed the controller on an armrest as he picked up his phone again then looked down at Cortana once again. "It's nearing midnight and here I am waiting when normal people would be asleep by now. Hell, Ben's probably asleep." 

It was one thing to lack the company of your best friend. It was another thing to lack the company of someone you loved. Perhaps that was what pushed his anxieties back to the forefront of his mind and oh, how Topher hated it. He couldn't dwell on any of these negative emotions for too long or else he risked opening the door again for the storm cloud that occupied his mind after that car crash. 

"But that's what you do for loved ones, isn't it?" The former Serpent asked himself as he tapped his phone screen back to life. A picture of himself with Benji greeted him once again, one of many reminders of brighter days and the potential for many more in the future. "You worry about them like there's no tomorrow and then when they come back, you make them promise to never make you worry like that again. But I still love him, don't think there's anyway I could stop."

With a quick glance over at the door, his gaze flicked back to the paused game and then to his phone. Guess it wouldn't hurt to try texting him. So, Topher opened up his messages in order to get to typing. "I know it's late and that I should be in bed, but I wanted you to know that I still have your back and will always have it. Regardless of whatever option you take, I will follow your lead and you to the ends of the Earth," he read aloud then pressed the arrow to send it. With that, the former Serpent picked up his controller once again and hoped for the best.

"I love you too," he whispered back. He moved his hand to take Topher's, then blinked when he picked up the controller and start to play again, their two hands intertwined from Benji point-of-view, but Topher not seeming to notice. 

"You... you can't see me, can you? Or... or feel me? Or hear me?" he realized, his voice quiet. He blinked hard and realized he couldn't remember leaving Sebastian's house to come home; he didn't remember falling asleep on the couch. At the very least, this was a dream--at the most, it was a premonition. 

He swallowed hard. "...Is this what you're doing right now? Just... worrying yourself sick and trying to distract yourself? Toph, I told you to think about yourself first for a change. I didn't think you'd just..." he trailed off, letting his head drop in disappointment. He'd gotten so angry at Franco for doing it, but here he was doing the same thing with Topher. He knew how loyal his best friend was--had he thought for even a second, he would've realized that he wasn't going to just take time for himself and await his return. He was gonna worry. And knowing Topher, worry endlessly. 

"...I've been gone 3, almost 4 days... When's the last time you slept?" He knew he couldn't hear him, but he turned to Topher anyway, hoping he could trigger the question to come to him somehow. "Topher, when's the last time you slept?" he begged.

The sixth time turned out to truly be the charm and Topher finally got past the level. He gave a quiet cheer that was soon interrupted by a yawn. "Lord, what time is it?" A quick glance told him that it was past midnight, 12:34 to be exact. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so tired and that counted every single all nighter that he pulled during his high school days. 

He needed to get some rest, caffeine and rapidly multiplying concerns just weren't cutting it as an energy source anymore. But there was the chance that Benji might come home and want to talk, plus Topher generally wanted to be awake in case something else demanded his attention. Cortana's needs were taken care of though, the same went for the grand majority of his own with sleep the glaring exception. He didn't know of any other drama that was currently taking place in 'fair' Riverdale.

With those thoughts at the forefront of his mind now, the 18 year old pushed himself up in order to retrieve one of the many blankets in his room as well as a pillow. When he returned, the blanket was draped over him while the pillow went behind his back. "If I fall asleep while playing Gears, so be it," Topher remarked to himself as he resumed the game. Sleepiness already had a decent grip on him, so there was quite the grand chance he would end up asleep in this chair. His worries just needed to shut themselves up for the night and there was no better way than playing a hint more.

Benji shook his head. "I need to come home..." he whispered to himself. Knowing that Topher was doing this--staying up in the hopes that he'd be coming home--he couldn't handle it. How could he really continue putting someone he loved through this much torture? It wasn't fair.

He bit his lip and stood up, walking over so he was between Topher and the TV. He knew he couldn't see him or feel him, but that didn't change what he wanted to do. "...I'm coming home, okay? And I'm sorry that I've put you through this hell. I'll never do it again." he whispered, giving a sad smile.

"I... I can't do this until we work things out with Franco, but... this is a dream. And I'm impatient," he explained, giving a chuckle dripping with emotional exhaustion. He leaned down and cupped Topher's face, then pulled him into a soft kiss, shutting his eyes until he eventually pulled back. "...I love you, Toph. I'll be home soon."

One by one, each worry faded to the back of his mind as he navigated Marcus through treacherous territory. The desire to sleep continued to wrap itself around Topher as the moments stretched into seconds then minutes. He'd gotten bits and pieces these past few days, but that wasn't enough, even with the aid of caffeine alongside concerned energy. 

All the scenarios that had turned his brain into a movie theater slowly shut themselves off for the night, yet they left a few thousand reassurances on the tip of his tongue for no particular reason. Perhaps for later use or maybe it was just the desire to start speaking out loud again. Regardless, Topher pulled the pillow up to where it was behind his head and allowed the warmth of his blanket to pull him just a bit closer to dreamland.

"Sweet dreams Cort and Ben, wherever you are," he muttered. "I love you both with all of my heart, in ways that even I can't express properly with words. Or maybe it's just because I'm tired as hell." Topher managed to make Marcus take a few more steps, but then the game was sleepily paused and the controller fell into his lap as sleep finally won out.

[namariea]

Hello, Neighbor | VI

Since moving in you have compiled a comprehensive list on your mysterious neighbor across the way.

Do Kyungsoo, otherwise known as Asian Bobby Flay and apparently Bruno Mars’ protégé.

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 2.7 k

Genre: Fluff

Previous: I II III IV V

Pushing open the door to your apartment, you crossed the threshold with a tired sigh.

 You had stayed late again after work. Thankfully it was straight-forward and did not require you to make any phone calls to other agencies, but that did not stop you from internally cussing out all of head office with language that would have made a sailor proud.

 Two hours of overtime and a 45-minute commute later, you finally returned to your beloved hovel of a sanctuary where you can finally kick back, relax, and forget all of your worr-

 Why is my sock wet.

 Confused, you fumbled against the wall searching for the switch and once the lights came on, you immediately came to two conclusions.

 Conclusion number one: Your right sock was indeed wet.

 Conclusion number two: Not only was your sock wet, but your entire main hallway was covered in water.

 Fabulous.

 Following the stream of water, you ended up squatting in front of your bathroom sink, specifically staring at the cabinet under your sink, where a steady stream of water was flowing from the cracks.

 Amazing.

“I’m sorry but maintenance is already out on a call. I’m afraid there won’t be another availability until the morning”

 Perfection.

 “Is there….anything you can do? Surely there has to be someone who can come in, my apartment is flooding” you stressed, looking at the water with growing concern. You heard the sounds of typing and clicking, then after a few moments of silence the voice came back.

 “You can contact a local plumber, however we can only cover the cost of repairs done by our maintenance staff, so you will have to pay it on your own if that is what you choose to do”

 You cheap motherfu-

 “I’ll figure something out, thank you for your time.” not bothering to wait for a reply on the other line you ended the call, dropping your cell phone onto the counter with a huff.

 “What good is a 24-hour maintenance service if you have to wait 9 hours to get help” you groaned as you looked at pot under your sink slowing filling up with water.

 Already gone through all of your towels, you were running out of absorbent materials to use, lest you crack open your closet. Sending a scared look to your closet, you picked up your phone once more, unlocking it and beginning your search for local plumbers to call. Just as you were going to press dial on a service that was the closest to your apartment complex you hesitated as you remembered something very important.

 Plumbers cost money.

 And you had limited money.

 Thus, spending money was not really an option.

 If only there was a more cost effective, convenient option...

Hmm.

"'Sup, loser."

 You blinked as your brother shoved something large and oddly soft into your arms. Looking down, you took in the rounded face of the stuffed animal. You could have sworn you've seen it before. Had you seen this online somewhere?

 "Mira and I went to the fair yesterday and she saw this at one of the vendors. She said it reminded her of Mimi, only skinnier" he explained as he walked around you, hauling his utility bag towards the bathroom.

Ah.

Meow.

Following your brother to the bathroom and having him confirm that, yes, he could indeed fix your leaking sink – thank you Baby Jesus - you left him to his devices and made your way to the kitchen to start making dinner. The wonderful thing about the relationship you had with your brother was that the two of you never talked about money. Any favors were always paid back in the form of food.

And nothing says thanks for fixing my sink like five cheese lasagna.

Placing the giant cat plushie on the counter for moral support, you set out on preparing the ingredients. Swaying to the music playing from the speakers you hummed as you worked. You were by no means a good cook, much to your dear mother's dismay. It was just not something you were ever interested in, you were much more interested in the eating rather than the preparing.

 However, if living alone has taught you anything it was that starvation was a true possibility and that no matter how loyal of a customer you were to the ramen place down the street they were never going to give you a discount. Therefore it left you with no choice but to begin your amateur cooking career.

Days since kitchen incident: 2

After a close call with the smoke detector and a half-burnt lasagna later, you set to work on putting your culinary masterpiece on the table. Your brother emerged not long after and you both tucked into the Michelin star meal you prepared.

While you ate the two of you caught up about life. Since moving out it was a rarity that the two of you saw each other, so it was nice to finally hang out and talk like you used to. Secretly you were glad that you and your brother grew up to be close, having known people who aren't as friendly with their siblings. You can't even begin to count the number of times he has been there for you, as a shoulder to cry on when the stress of school was getting to you, as an open ear for you to when life was just a pile of turds. He was always around to give advice and encourage you to do your best, even when you didn't think you could. More than your brother, he was your best friend and you didn't know what you would do without his snarky ass on speed dial.

Not like you would ever admit that to him though.

Can't let the man know you're going soft.

“So how is living on your own? Wanting to pack up and move back to mom and dad’s yet?”

 “Every day. I consider it every. day.”

 “Ahh it can’t be that bad, this is a nice place and it seems like a younger neighborhood, meet any neighbors yet?”

 You almost choked on your wine at the question, mind reeling.

 “Oh…uh, not really” you coughed, trying to act nonchalant. The last thing you needed was your brother interrogating the poor guy “I’ve just been busy with work and stuff, haven’t really been able to meet any of them yet…” trailing off you began to think about your budding friendship with your neighbor.

Once dinner was done your brother retreated back to the bathroom and you finished cleaning up. As you were putting away the dishes he emerged with a victorious look on his face.

"Well now that that is done," he started, making his way back towards the kitchen, "anything else that requires free labor?"

"Oh hush," you said, sweeping a critical eye across the kitchen "now that I think about it the ice dispenser has been furiously projecting ice cubes whenever I try to use it....but then again, I like how it keeps my reflexes sharp."

"Always on your toes, I like your style."

"Speaking of sharp reflexes, how do you feel about having your ass handed to you at some Mario Kart?"

"Oh, poor child" your brother rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves as he took a seat on your couch, "it's so great that you have dreams, but as your older brother it is my duty to crush them."

With a sleepy yawn, the sound of soft footfalls resonated through the apartment as you entered your kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights. The morning sun was peeking through the slit in the curtains, dimly illuminating the room and providing enough light to accomplish your mission. You busied yourself with preparing a much-needed caffeinated beverage, and a content sigh passed through you once the fragrant aroma started to fill the room.

Equipped with an arsenal to start the day, you walked over to the curtains and slowly pulled them back to reveal two things.

A sleeping cat, and a wall of black curtains.

Taking a long, contemplative sip from your mug, your eyes narrowed on the latter of the two, a frown forming on your face.

 You begin to replay the last week in your head, more specifically your interactions with the owner of said closed curtains.

  A tired sigh escaped you as you gazed at the rising sun, eyes squinting in silent contempt. You were by no means a morning person, however there was no mistaking that the silence of the morning was a welcome sight, especially since you were about to join the chaos of rush hour.

It was in that moment of contemplation that black curtains were pulled back, revealing a familiar face.

 Speaking of welcomed sights.

 “Good morning neighbor” taking a sip from your mug, you offered a friendly wave to the man across from you.

 He seemed taken aback by your presence, not anticipating you to be standing right there. He was wearing a fitted black sweater, which you immediately concluded looked very nice on him, and you thanked whatever higher power that his hair was unstyled, and instead hung around his face.

 He looked like he wanted to say something but was stopped when a white blob jumped up on the windowsill and made itself known. He instead offered you an odd smile, and before you could question the oddity he beat you to it.

 “Good morning” with a curt nod in your direction, he then abruptly turned around and disappeared into his apartment, leaving you bewildered in his wake.

 That was strange, you thought.

  Humming a tune as you walked into the living room, fiddling with your phone as you browsed through the daily headlines.

 Tabloids. Tabloids. Conspiracy Theory. Tabloids.

 With an uninterested swipe, you began to read about how the moon doesn’t actually exist and is actually a hologram designed by NASA. Riveting stuff. Five paragraphs and a link to the Flat Earthers Association later, a movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Turning you, saw the silhouette of your neighbour walking past the window come into view.

 Catching his eye, you gave him a friendly smile and wave, opening your mouth to greet the man.

 Only to have it caught in your throat, as you were given the same curt nod, and then the man scampered away, coat in hand as he swung it on with his back turned to you. He appeared to be in a hurry.

 Maybe later, then.

  Hopping on one foot, you slipped on your kitten heels, stumbling into your living room and picked up your keys from the coffee table. Jostling them in your hands, out of habit you cast a glance towards the window. No sign of your elusive neighbor.

 God, I’m starting to look like a creep

 Your shame was short lived, however, when you noticed the dark fabric across the way.

 Checking your watch you frowned, however that frown soon turned into panic as you realized you were most definitely going to be late this time.

 Shit.

Now, this may be a bit of a reach....and it is totally possible that you are simply imagining things...

But you are almost certain you are being avoided.

To be fair, the main reason you came to this conclusion was due to the fact that you had done the same thing not two weeks ago, but that is not important right now..

It was very much apparent that he was going through some measures to avoid you. It would seem as though subtlety was not his strong suit.

 As you were getting ready in your bedroom you would often head the faint sounds of Mimi pawing at the window, followed by a very familiar voice. However, once you pulled back the curtains you were met with closed black curtains and a shifty looking cat.

You needed a second opinion.

"Ghosted. You are being ghosted. "

"Woman, I am not being ghosted, how many times-"

"Well then clearly something happened" Seulgi deadpanned from across the table "did something happen when you guys were talking? Something other than the awkward nerdy sexual tension of course"

"Kim I will end you I swear-"

"Well it's true! If it was going as well as you said it did, you clearly must have said something"

Leaning back in your chair, you glanced around the break room pensively.

 The thought did cross your mind more than once, but he was usually just as engaged as you were. At the thought of your neighbour, you could not help the smile that slipped onto your face. Thinking of his melodic voice, how his eye lit up when he laughed and his adorable heart shaped smile-

 “Ohnonono, oi cut it out with those googoo eyes” furiously snapping her fingers in front of your face, Seulgi gave you a pointed look.

“You know he could just be busy with work and your worrying over nothing” she pointed out, and you frowed.

 “It just seems like it’s something more than that” you said, tilting your head back and staring at the ceiling.

“It just seems like he is going out of his way to not see me, you know? Which makes absolutely no sense, you would think having an hour long debate about pineapple on pizza-”

 “Wait, which side were you on?”

 “I happen to enjoy a Hawaiian pizza”

“You are the devil incarnate”

 “That was more or less his point of view as well. But I think I was this close to bringing him to the light” you said, making a gesture with your fingers, ignoring the scoff from across the table “I was preparing a pretty good pitch, but then my sink decided to do a sick impression of the Bellagio fountains and flooded my bathroom. If it weren’t for my brother fixing it I would have been living in waterworld. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if it ruined the hardwood, cause im broke as shi-”

 “Woahwoahwoah hold up” raising a hand, Seulgi looked at you with wide eyes “What did you just say?”

 Blinking at your friend, you furrowed your eyebrows “The Bellagio fountains? The ones in Las Vegas? Bruno Mars did a bit where he rode around on a jet ski in it?”

 “No not the damn fountains, idiot, before that. You’re brother was over at your apartment?” she asked, and you groaned at her overly eager expression.

 “How many times have I told you, my brother if out of your league, Kang-”

 “That’s not what I meant. Also, excuse you, I’m a solid 10” she deadpanned, and you snorted “I mean your brother was over at your house. Did he see him? Now hear me out-“ she quickly added, seeing your confused expression change to an exasperated one.

 “What if he thought your brother was...yknow” she made a gesture in the air “That would explain so much. He thought you were hanging out with your boyfriend, not knowing it was actually your brother, and then he backs off because he thinks you’re taken and feels like a fool”

 The two of you just stared at each other, Seulgi looking like she had discovered the eighth wonder of the world, and you looking like she had grown a second head.

 You were the one to break your staring contest, shaking your head in bewilderment.

 “And you said I was the lame one for watching soap operas” you muttered

 Leaning back in her chair, you could practically see the gears in her head turning, her expression looking more and more determined.

 “It literally explains everything though, why didn’t I see this before” suddenly she lets out a loud laugh.

 Arms crossed, you watched the cackling woman as she began muttering to herself about ‘being better than TV’. Frowning, you replayed her words in your head over and over, not denying that the timing of it all was coincidental. Still.

 “Even if you don’t agree with it, you can't deny the timing of it all is too much of a coincidence” she stated, voicing your exact thoughts.

 Taking advantage of your silence she pushed on, “Well there is only one thing that we can do now”

 “We?”

 “Time to test the theory.”

 You immediately regret asking for a second opinion.

[dis-easedfairy]

Impulsive Decision Pt.7

Male Path | Female Path

Chapter 7: Neon Lights

Warnings!: Kidnapping | Swearing

Genre: Poly!au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, yandere!au

Pairings: BTS x Reader / Kim Taehyung x Reader / Kim Seokjin x Reader / Jung Hoseok x Reader / OC x Reader / Park Jimin x Reader / Min Yoongi x Reader (just a lil)

Word Count: 5,340

Summary: M/n is the owner of a very wealthy and successful company, Barnanby Inc. M/n attends a BTS show, since they happen to be a fan. They make a very impulsive decision to show a loophole in BTS’s security and end up kidnapping BTS and 2 girls. In a fit of panic M/n stashes BTS and the girls in a very luxurious bunker for the time being, but M/n’s world slowly starts to crumble the longer the boys are out of the public’s eye,

A/N: Sorry I had writer’s block! As always, if you have any questions or thoughts on the story so far, got ahead and drop it in my ask box! If you have any other suggestions on what I should tag this under, feel free to tell me anon or not! (this goes for any of my another work too). The Female Path will be out soon, I swear, I figured I made you all wait enough!

The next morning I woke up, sat up and stretched, meaning Tae was no longer in the bed with me. I got up and tried to find my pants, which I assumed Tae or one someone was holding them hostage.

I let out a deep sigh and went to open the door to go out into the hallway, only to have the door open from the other side. I stepped back with a small ‘oh, my bad’ falling from my lips.  I soon came face to face with Jimin, a small smile on his face when he saw I was surprised to see him.

“Uh, I got you breakfast.” Jimin said awkwardly, holding up two plates.

“Thank you, but is there a possibility you know where my pants are?”

Jimin only smiled, “I think Tae gave them to Jin to wash with your other clothes.”

“Imma steal his sweatpants then.” I walked over to what I assumed was Tae’s dresser and opened drawers as Jimin sat on the floor and put the plates on the table that we left there for lunch today.

Once I found sweatpants I pulled them on facing the door, back to Jimin. I pulled off the hoodie off my overheated body and tossed it on the bed, now looking for a shirt.

“So, you and Seongmi?” Jimin asked, his voice was in a tone I couldn’t pinpoint.

“Ah, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I like girls, I just...have been confused for a long time, that’s all.” I tried to put my feelings into works in my head, but failed to do so.

“She has a thing for you, she’s been flirting and dropping a lot of hints.”

“I’m aware, I saw the way she looked at me when I pulled away from the hug, I just, don’t want to lead her on thinking that I could be in a relationship with her, only for her to get heartbroken if I realize I’m not attracted to women.”

“So when did you tell your parents you liked men?” Jimin asked as I turned around to go to Jin’s dresser for shirt options.

“My mom says when I was 3 I would talk about having a husband, and when she tried correcting me thinking that I didn’t know the difference between husband and wife, I corrected her and told her that I wanted a ‘nice husband who smelled good’. So, I didn’t have to tell them, they just assumed I liked guys all my life. I also wanted 4 dogs. 3 cats and 2 otters, but those are more within my grasp. ” Jimin began to giggle.

“Why 3 cats and 2 otters?”

“I heard otters get lonely and 3 cats because even if one cat doesn’t want to love me, maybe one of the other two would...” Jimin began to laugh.

“You sound like you were adorable.”  I found a black shirt and pulled it on.

“My little sister was way more adorable. I’m her favorite.” I smiled, filling with pride as I sat down beside him.

I looked at the plates Jimin came in with. It was kimchi jeon, I was familiar with it, it was a savory pancake with kimchi in it, however, there was a small bowl on top of it, it looked like eggs, but a little different.

“What’s this?” I asked, poking the egg with my spoon.

“Gyeran-jjim. It’s steamed egg.” Jimin explained, beginning to eat.

The egg was almost like a pudding and I didn’t mind, not one bit. after a few minutes of silence, Jimin spoke up.

“So, does your family know about the bunker?”

“Not really, I started making this after my dad died. It started off with just the entrance room but I expanded it. I always tell only people who need to know, like my accountant or Jason when I decide to go rogue. I usually make up an excuse for not being at my apartment, it’s gotten to the point where my family thinks I’m everywhere else in South Korea but Seoul. This is my safe space.” I poked at my food.

Jimin only nodded. I hadn’t worked on any character designs. I’d do that after breakfast.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin broke me from my thoughts.

“Huh? Why? What happened? If you broke something, that’s cool, I don’t have a lot of sentimental things down here.” I took a bite of my kimchi jeon.

“No. I’m sorry I thought differently of you.” He looked so sad, I didn’t understand why.

“I understand why you thought of me that way. I kidnapped you. You’re famous. You have threats every day, Jimin, I understand.” I assured him, giving his thigh a quick pat and tried to think of designs again.

“What are you thinking about?” Jimin put more food in his mouth.

“Barnaby designs.” I answered truthfully.

“Jin’s right, you are a workaholic.” I giggled.

“No, it’s just, I’ve been just working for so long that it’s all I do know. I had Jason to talk to, but most of the time I would choose work over going to a party.”

“Was Jason a party animal?” Jimin questioned.

“Yeah, for a bit. I’ve known him for as long as I can remember, but after the age of 16 we just kind of, drifted. He hung out with people who partied and I mourned my father and just tried to graduate. I wanted to push forward into the future and he wanted to enjoy his youth, I wasn’t mad at him for it, or disappointed, I was just a little sad my best friend didn’t want the same. Around a year or two ago, he got into a bit of trouble. I helped him out by hiring him at my company, I made him a director. He’s still a little bit of a party animal, but doesn’t let it negate his work, I respect that. ” I explained, then took a bite of steamed eggs.

“...What kind of trouble?”

“Not my story to tell, sorry Jiminie. You can always ask him yourself.” I only smiled.

I worked on my sketch as Jimin casually drew, sitting across from me at the dining room table as Jin and Tae were battling over a game of Mario Kart while Hobi laughed at them from the couch.

“Hyung, you should come here.” Jungkook’s voice came from Jimin’s phone that was set on the table.

Without taking his eyes off his masterpiece he pressed the button on the screen, “I’m a little busy right now.”

“Please? It’s important. I’m in the gym” Jimin sighed.

“Fine, I’m on my way.” Jimin answered and stood.

“I’ll be back, M/n.” Jimin mumbled and left through the door behind me that lead to the gym.

I focused on my work, not glancing up as Tae shouted that Jin was a cheater. Someone sat next to me, I thought it was Hobi, since he was moving between sitting beside me and on the couch for the past few minutes.

“Is he really a cheater? I always thought Jin was the kind of person to like move your hand or something while playing then pretend like he never touched you when he wins.” I voiced, still not looking up.

“Why is it that I can actually see that happening?” A higher pitched voice asked.

My head snapped to look at Seongmi. I chuckled.

“Sorry, Seongmi, I thought you were Hobi.”

“He has nice legs so you get a pass. What are you working on?” She asked, her hand starting to move to Jimin’s sketch pad.

I quickly grabbed her wondering hand in fear of Jimin’s work being smudged and ruined. I placed her hand on her lap and went back to coloring in my work, making sure to watch the table in case she tried to couch Jimin’s work again.

“Just coloring in my work for character design.” I answered simply.

“Those markers look so professional.” She awed.

“Uh, we have a big supply of them for the animators? I’d figured they’d seem normal to you now.”

She shook her head, “I never got to see them at work before, I was always doing everything else but animate.”

I smiled, sliding my sketchpad over to her and handing her the marker.

“Have fun.” Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

“I don’t want to ruin your work.”

“It’s fine, go for it! I’ve drawn Barnaby so many times its muscle memory. If you mess up I can just draw another.” I assured.

She began to color in the drawing and I leaned closer. She smelled like chocolate frosting. Why the fuck did she smell like frosting? I stood up and walked to the fridge and then started rummaging through the cabinets when I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

“Need help?” Seongmi asked.

I shook my head. Where the fuck did I keep my Stress Frosting!? I found a box of bran cereal and looked at it suspiciously. I don’t fuck with bran cereal so why is it here?? I grabbed the box angrily and turned eyed it. There was a note stuck to the back.

If you keep eating frosting like you had a bad break up, you’re going to have a heart attack, eat something healthy for once.

-Jason

“This motherfucker.” My voice was high pitched and full of disbelief, I didn’t realize I said it out loud until Seongmi began to giggle.

“He said you’d react that way, word for word.” She laughed.

I moved to the table and got my phone, unlocking it and opening the walkie-talkie app. I found Jason and held down the button.

“You trick ass snake, where the fuck is my frosting?”

“There is perfectly edible bran cereal for you.” I could hear him trying not to laugh.

“Man, fuck yo cereal I want my frosting.”

“You had cookie dough frosting, M/n. That’s like making something unhealthy more unhealthy.”

“Stop holding my frosting hostage.”

“I don’t have it. I threw it all away in a random dumpster.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“I don’t care! I’m a rebel. Fuck yo frostin’.”

“Bitch got me cryin’ in the club.” I fake sniffled.

“I don’t care, bye M/n.”

I sat beside Seongmi with a sad plop.

“Aww, poor M/n-ie.” She cooed, running her hand through my hair as I pouted.

She looked around and stood up, she walked to the hallway with rooms and waved me over. I followed obediently. She led me to what I assumed was her and Linza’s room and closed the door behind me. She went to the dresser by the door and rummaged through it and got a few straw-like tubes from within.

“Sit.” I did as I was told, sitting on the door in front of the bed that smelled the most like frosting.

She sat beside me and handed me the straw-tube. She bit the end of hers, pinched the middle and slid the syrup up into her mouth. Uh, I had no idea what it was. Why did it look like a liquid Pixy Stix? She giggled at my confusion. She tipped hers to my lips. I was too curious to care if it was unsanitary.

“Is that raspberry or honey? I’m more confused than I was before.” She laughed.

“You’re so adorable. It’s a raspberry honey stick, M/n.”

“Honey stick? You mean to tell me I could’ve ended just squirting the honey from the bottle into my mouth a long time ago?” She laughed a little louder.

“I can just imagine you getting it everywhere and complaining when something stuck to you.”  I felt a little offended because it was dead on.

I sucked on my green apple honey stick and was actually liking it better than frosting. She began to run her hands through my hair again, I drifted more into her touch, not wanting her to stop.

“How can a grown man act so cute?” She asked.

I didn’t answer, too focused on my honey stick to be bothered. She swung her leg over mine to straddle me. I wasn’t as shy as I thought I would be. I looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. She took the empty stick from my mouth and grabbed another color.

“Let’s try peach, hm?” She popped open the end and pushed some into her mouth then tilted it to me.

I let her place it in my mouth and slide the sweet fruity honey in, keeping eye contact with her.

“Good boy.” She seemed to praise under her breath.

She discarded the empty tube and ran her hand through my hair once more, this time tugging me head back, making me bite my lip. She bent down and kissed my forehead, it looked innocent but I knew what I wanted.

“Why the forehead?” I pouted.

She giggled and I used that opportunity to grab the back of her neck and pull her into a kiss. Just one kiss is all I wanted. I slid my hand down so my hands were on her sides. She went for my hair again and pulled me even closer so we were pressed against each other.

She slid her tongue into my mouth and pushed her hips down against me. A part of me knew it was wrong that I was currently making out with a girl and could possibly break her heart by leading her on. That part became overwhelming as Seongmi began to grind on me, causing a groan to draw out of me.

I pulled back, “S-Seongmi, I don’t think this is the best ide-” She turned my head to the side and her lips attached to my neck.

I felt her suck and bite, making me whimper at the feeling. Her lips suddenly detached and I whined in protest.

“Hey, Jimin. ” She sounded so smug.

My head snapped to the side to look at Jimin in the doorway. He looked both angry and shocked. He walked over and grabbed my wrist.

“Come on, M/n, let’s go finish up our designs.” Jimin pressed, tugging on my arm.

“Aw, c’mon Jimin, you know he’s fine if you leave him here.” Seongmi teased.

Her cocky tone made me softly push her away. It was now her turn to be shocked. She got off of me and I stood, not making eye contact with either of them as Jimin guided me out the room.

“Stay away from her, okay? I don’t know what’s she’s doing, but now you need to be careful because it’s not just flirting anymore.” Jimin said to me in a soft and serious tone.

I only nodded.

“Stay with the boys, okay?” I nodded again.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You did WHAT!?”

“Jason you’re at a 10 and I need you at a 4 right now.” I sighed, leaning back in my office chair.

I was in the bunker’s office and had the door locked, hoping to have a private conversation with my friend to sort things out.

“How did the other boys take it?”

“I’m not sure, I think only Jimin and Seongmi know for now.”

“...Why do I have a feeling Seokjin will fight her.” I sat up straight.

“No, no, no. I kissed her first so I should be scolded. ”

“She gave you a hickey and had a death wish to just smirk and be all cocky with Jimin.”

“ ‘Death wish’ what the fuck, Jason, the boys don’t care about me that much.”

“You are as dense as your mom’s Christmas fruitcake.”

“I swore my mom broke your dad’s toe when she accidentally dropped it.”

“It was close, but stop trying to change the subject! Those guys care a lot for you, you can’t just go kiss a girl who is clearly trying to manipulate you in some way.”

I let out a loud groan, “This would’ve never happened if you left my frosting alone!” I accused.

After the ‘call’ with Jason I worked a bit on files he told me the company needed and began to transfer them to USB. Once everything was transferred I unlocked the door and was getting ready to head out. I saw Suga heading my way once I stepped into the hall.

He was holding a few napkins that he was looking at and his lips moving slightly like he was reading to himself.

I realized why he had napkins. He was writing lyrics and didn’t have paper. I quickly moved into the office and pulled out six notebooks and began to leave again. I moved to the hallway with the rooms pretty much undetected and pushed the two notebooks under the doors of what I assumed was RM’s room. I put two on Hobi’s bed just in case and put two on the opposite bed of Hobi’s, knowing it was Suga’s bed because they shared a room. I headed to the entrance room. I put in the dial code and moved to the vault door when I slowly realized.

I ran back down and almost knocked Tae over.

“Oh! Sorry, Tae, uh, where’s the vault key?” I asked, hand on the back of my neck.

“Jin Hyung has it, why? Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, Jason needs a few files authorized.” Tae gave me a small pout.

“Be back before dinner.” Oh god, that was a command.  

I only nodded and went to find Jin.

I ended up finding him in the library with RM. I knocked softly before fully entering.

“Hey, Jin, do you mind if I get the vault keys? Jason needs me at the company...” I trailed off, suddenly very awkward with the boys.

Jin smiled, good, that means he didn’t know yet. Jin stood up and reached in his pocket and pulled out the key. RM was looking through the bookshelves, taking down a few.

“I’ll make you a copy...if you want.” I said lowly.

Jin looked at me, confused, “Why would I need one?”

“I was serious about letting you go.” RM froze.

“I just, want you to know you have an option. I don’t care if I don’t get the partnership, because I know my brother will push and get it. I don’t care if my family has to distance themselves from me either, it was my decision that landed me in this anyway. ” Jin shook his head.

“Make him a key anyway.” RM jumped in, earning him a look from Jin.

I nodded, taking the key from Jin, waving goodbye and leaving the bunker

.

    I loaded the three new lights for the Dance Studio (it was totally Jimin’s and Hobi’s now) into my car, being sure not to crush the groceries I had to grab while out. I got one blue light and one green, I had ordered purple, red, yellow, and black lights as well, I even ordered signs for the office, gaming room, library, and gym, but it would take a bit of time to get. That whole room was going to be lit up.

So, for now, I had a blue neon light that says ‘Sweet Dreams’, a light pink neon light that read ‘inspire’ and a green neon light that said ‘Everything you need is inside you’ I liked the font so I rolled with it. On the way to the bunker, I got a pack of beers and several bags of chips as my dinner and made my way back.

It was pretty late so I snuck into the bunker and tried to move the boxes in and down to the Dance Studio as quiet as possible. The last thing I wanted was Tae popping up out of nowhere and yelling because I skipped dinner. I put away the groceries and made my way back to the studio.

I played music not too loud and set up the neon lights. I made sure all four were mounted and working before I moved to the bag to get a beer and a bag of chips.

I needed this. Music and relaxation. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

“Nice setup.” I opened my eyes to look over at the figure at the door.

I grabbed a beer and extended it out the figure, I was friendly enough to share, even if I wasn’t sure who it was. The lights illuminated Suga’s face as he stepped into the room, closing the door, accepting the beer and sitting a distance from me.

“Sorry if I woke you up.” I smiled sadly.

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.” He stated as he opened the beer.

I gave him an unopened bag of chips and closed my eyes once more.

“What do you plan on doing after all this?” He asked.

I scoffed, “Going to New York.”

“I’m serious.” He frowned.

“I’m going to prison, Suga.” I sighed.

“If you weren’t?”

“That’s impos-”

“Humor me.”

I sighed and thought deeply.

“I would be in the same place I am to everyone else who doesn’t know you’re all here. A CEO at my father’s company. I would branch to video games then move to snacks and beverages. I would support my family any way I could. I’m not sure if I’d get married because I’m a shut-in, I like to just disappear and not tell anyone because I don’t need to or want to, but who knows. My whole life I wanted to make my dad happy the same way he would make me happy. I thought for sure my brother would get the company, but when it went to me, I felt like I had to prove I deserved it. At work I’m not feared, I’m respected and understood. Yeah, everyone gossips but nothing too harsh. But here...  ” I laughed softly “I get called a workaholic seemingly every 3 hours and a kidnapper. ” I turned to Suga, “Sorry if you expected me to say I would travel the world or settle down and have kids.”

Suga looked like he was thinking, “I respect the honesty.”

“Why did you all decide to stay?”

“Not all of us did, it was five to four. Jimin made his mind up about you after he almost fought you. Jin got the vault key, Taehyung got the dial code before anyone could read it and Jimin got your phone; Well, what was left of it. Jin never let go of the key, Taehyung never let us know the code, and neither did Hoseok, even though I think he knows it, and Jimin never told us what he found on the phone no matter how many times any of us asked. He didn’t even tell Hoseok, Jin or Taehyung.”

“I’m sorry to hear.”

“It almost scares me how honestly sorry you look.”

“Because I am. I still believe you all should be free and I take responsibility for my actions, but Jin, wants the vault door key and I’m sure Taehyung hid the code in some obscure place.”

“They were hurt when you didn’t come to dinner, Jimin looked a little mad.”

I let out a long sigh.

“My relationship with Taehyung, Seokjin, and Hoseok is complicated and confusing, and Seongmi just got double confusing, now Jimin is acting like a protective brother, but that’s how the others acted before...”

“Before?”

“When I was in my slump, Taehyung kissed me. Then Seokjin, then Hoseok. They didn’t explain anything afterward or bring it up, they’ve been acting like friends but Jason has been telling me it’s more. Today, Seongmi took me to her room and we made out.”

“I see the hickey.” My hand slapped up to my neck to cover it.

“Jason and Jimin think Seongmi’s up to devious plans, but I kissed her first, I wanted a simple kiss but, she wanted more and it was just a heated blur.”

“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t.”

“You’re no help.”

“Just do what makes you happy.”

“My mom said I shouldn’t eat a hundred McDonalds chicken nuggets because heart problems run in the family. ” Suga almost spit out his beer.

“Only a hundred?” He teased.

“Well, I’m thinking realistically, I’m gonna want fries as well...” Suga finally smiled.

“Thank you for the notebooks, Hoseok took my green one, but I expected that. They’re pretty thick and you have nice pens just laying around.”

I smiled, “Glad to know you like them, you can transfer your writings from napkins now.” I took a sip of my beer.

“How do you know I wrote on na-”

“M/n? When did you get back?” A sleepy voice cut off Suga.

Suga and I looked over to see Jimin.

Oh dear lord, is Park Jimin only wearing my black Barnaby hoodie and briefs??

I started choking on my beer. Suga began to openly chuckle at my misfortune.

“He got back about 40 minutes ago.” Suga answered for me.

“Did you eat dinner?” Jimin yawned.

“Nope, he’s drinking beer and eating chips instead.”

“Bro, what the fuck?” I gave Suga a sideways glance.

“You’ll eat a big breakfast in the morning m’kay? Let’s go to bed now, M/n.” Jimin rubbed his eyes, holding his hand out for me to take.

I looked over at Suga, almost like I was asking him if this was a good idea.

“You better go, he won’t leave until you do,” Suga warned.

“Enjoy the chips and beer.” I grunted as I stood up. 

“With pleasure.” Suga said as I took Jimin’s hand and he and led me out the studio.

Jimin led me across the bunker to the entrance room and climbed on the extra large bed. He patted the spot beside him. I was weighing my pros and cons.

Yes, I slept in the same bed as Tae, but Tae didn’t try to kill me by luring me in with cuteness and then holding a pocket knife to my back. Maybe this is where I would start to use my brain for once. I mean, could I truly trust Jimin?

Jimin pouted once he saw my hesitation. He sat up, frown on his face.

“I said I was sorry. I won’t try to hurt you ever again, okay? Can we cuddle and sleep, please?” He promised.

I slowly kicked off my shoes and unzipped my pants. Jimin smiled and lied back down, waiting patiently. I climbed on the bed and Jimin turned his back to me and pressed himself against me. Jimin grabbed my arm and put it around him. He snuggled even closer and let out a hum.

“We should do this with all the boys...But Tae and I are closer, m’kay?” I chuckled and nuzzled my face into his neck.

“Oh my, is Park Jimin possessive by any chance?” I teased, I could feel the heat go to his neck and face.

“Mmm good, the other boys don’t cuddle me enough.” I added, holding him a little tighter.

“How was work?”

“Fine, I guess, same old same old. However, I did get you and Hoseok a surprise that I’m sure you’d like.”

“What is it?”

“I’m astonished you didn’t see when you went in the studio earlier to steal me from Suga.”

“I was half asleep and going to the bathroom when I heard your voice. I wanted to cuddle you. I didn’t see anything,” He whined in complaint.

I giggled, “Well now you have to wait until I decide to let you go.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Be careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you’d call me ‘Chim’, everyone else stopped calling me that because we were all fighting.”

I frowned, knowing I was the reason they were fighting.

“I’ll call you whatever you want, Chim. Let’s sleep now, ‘kay?” Jimin nodded and got comfortable.

“Good night, M/n.”

“Night, Chim.”

  I woke up holding onto Jimin. I had a warm fuzzy feeling that immediately made me smile...that was until I noticed Jimin was smaller than before … and smelled like frosting.

I quickly pulled away, “Seongmi!? What are you doing!?” I asked, both flustered and in pure shock.

I moved to the opposite said of the bed. She sat up with a pout.

“Cuddling you. You left yesterday and we didn’t have time to talk.”

I sighed, “Seongmi, listen, I’m very much questioning every part of my sexuality right now, I don’t know if we co-.”

“Don’t make a decision on Jimin’s opinion.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“He’s just playing overprotective boyfriend, he’s going to say something bad about me and then have you distance yourself from me.” She added, voice full of annoyance.

Well, damn.

“I’m not making a decision on Jimin’s opinion! I’m thinking realistically! I’ve very unsure if I even like girls, and what if I don’t? You’ll end up heartbroken and I might not feel anything but sorry that I put you through it!”

Seongmi moved closer to me, “So you won’t even give it a shot?”

“No, Seongmi-”

“M/n! I saw the surprise and I love it...” Jimin went from excited to quiet within seconds of seeing Seongmi on the bed.

“Fine. Be with EVERY boy but not give me a chance.” She said bitterly, getting off the bed, giving Jimin a look and leaving.

“I’m sorry, Chim, she j-.”

“It’s okay, she must have come in when I left to see what Hobi Hyung was happy about.” Jimin walked over to the bed and climbed on.

“So you liked the surprise?” Jimin beamed, his happy mood returning.

“We love it! ” Jimin pushed me down to cuddle me again.

“I have several coming in by the way. ” He had his leg thrown over mine, arm over me, his head on my chest.

“Several?” He put his face in my neck.

“A red one, a purple one, a yellow one, a blacklight, one for the office, one for the gaming room, one for the library and one for the gym.”

“I sense a theme for the bunker.”

“My family used to live in Tokyo, near the Akihabara area. My dad’s work and our schools weren’t near, but my father liked the vibe and so did my mom. I took extra classes and took my little sister to arcades and to her Japanese classes that were an hour before dinner, so I would see the bright neon lights every night, I kind of miss it.”

“You lived in Tokyo? Why did you end up in Seoul?”

“We lived used to only go for summers, maybe a few times a year, but when my dad died when I was 16, my mom, little sister and I moved there until I was 18. My older brother and sister insisted they take care of everything until I legally had ownership. The week before my birthday we started packing up, and the day after my birthday we were in Seoul, unpacking in the house my mom has now. I finished school here in Seoul and got the company. I do miss Japan though.”

“You don’t look like a normal Korean.”

“No offense!” He added quickly, making me chuckle.

“My grandpa moved to America because a high paying job was offered to him. So my father lived in the US all his life. He met my mom in college who was American and they moved to Japan to learn more about game design and animation, had older siblings, and moved to Seoul because my father wanted to start the company in South Korean, then they had me, then my little sister four years after. I’m fluent in English, and Japanese, but I mostly keep that to myself, since we spoke English at home and my school was full of foreigners, I didn’t grow up speaking a lot of Korean, or speaking at all, so my Korean still has some flaws.”

Jimin only nodded, taking in the information. There was that warm fuzzy feeling again. I lifted one hand and began to play with Jimin’s hair, earning me a hum like last night. Jimin’s hand wondered and grabbed my hand that wasn’t in his hair, intertwining his fingers with mine.

I heard my phone give me a chime for a calendar reminder.

“Uh, Chim, what day of the week is it?”

“Wednesday, why?”

“Fuuuuuuck.” I had to take care of my nephew today.

( Previous Chapter ) - ( Next Chapter )

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #427: Joker and Queen Play Some Mario Party (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

Ren: Makoto, you sure you wanna play Mario Party for our date today?

Makoto: (Smiles Softly) I don't see why not. Plus, it has been a while since we actually play one together.

Ren: True. But you do know that this game can and will get hectic down the road, right?

Makoto: Eh. I'm sure it won't go too crazy this time.

First Turn....

Computer playing as Wario obtained a Star hiding inside the Hidden Block on screen.

Ren/Makoto: WHAT?!!!

Makoto: Are you serious right now?!

Ren: (Shook his head Slowly) He didn't miss, Makoto. He did not miss....

Makoto: B-But....this is the first turn of the game....

Ren: Yep. Told you this is gonna get hectic.

Makoto: (Facepalms while Sighing)

Three Turns Later....

Toad starts going up in and down on his Pirate Ship Costume on Screen.

Makoto: (Drops the Controller and Slowly Place Two of her Hands all over her face)

Ren: (Snickering) What's wrong?

Makoto: Ren.....I don't think I could ever see Toad the same way again....

Ren: Why? Cuz he's humping the air in his Pirate Ship suit?

Makoto: ('Groans')

Ren: (Burst out Laughing at Makoto's Dispense) Aha man...This is great. Seeing you squirm like that...I just can't...(Continues Laughing)

Two Turns Later......

Makoto, playing as Yoshi, was able to beat someone's record on Mecha Marathon on screen. The number of yards was approximately Thirty Nine.

Announcer: NEW RECORD!!!

Ren: (Eyes Widened) Jesus Christ, Makoto.....

Makoto: (Giggles Softly) Are you impressed?

Ren: Understatement of the decade....Were you always this good on these Button Mashing Minigames or is this has something to do with your Aikido training?

Makoto: Well.....I guess you could say that my recent training is involved in some way. But truth be told.... I'm actually kind of skillful in these types of games. Even when I was younger.

Ren: Really now?

Makoto: (Simply Nodded) Mmhmm. (Giggles Softly) I can't remember how many times I was able to out best my sister in Mecha Marathon alone during those days. I even tried beating my own record once.

Ren: (Chuckles Lightly) Keep this up and I might as well call you "The Button Mashing Queen" for now on.

Makoto: (The Button Mashing Queen huh?....) (Begins to Smirk while Flipping the side of her hair Elegantly) Why, Ren, while I am oh so flattered by the lovely nickname, maybe try saving the flattery after I beat in Mario Party....(Boops on Ren's Nose) 'Kay?~

Ren: (Shrugged) Whatever you say.....(Gives Makoto a Surprise Kiss on the Cheek) My Queen~ (Goes Back to his Spot)

Makoto: (Immediately Starts Blushing and Then Begins to Turning Away from her Now Chuckling Boyfriend) H-Honestly....

Three Turns Later....

Makoto uses a Golden Mushroom to get a 7.....

Ren: Seven....

.....Then another 7.....

Ren: Seven......!

Makoto: Oh...my.....

......And one more 7 on screen.

Makoto: (Smiles Excitedly) I got a Complete Match!

Ren: (Gives Makoto a Thumbs up) Nice. I'm pretty sure they'll give you Twenty Coins or-

Toad said he'll give Makoto 50 coins on screen.

Ren/Makoto: FIFTY?!!!

Ren: For real?!

Makoto: How is that even- (Starts to Come to a Realization) Ohhhh.....I get it now....

Ren: (Turns to Makoto) What?

Makoto: Okay. So I rolled three Sevens, right?

Ren: Yeah.....

Makoto: ....And the number seven is technically a lucky number. So that means......

Ren: Having three Sevens is an automatic Jackpot....Damn.... Can't believe I forgot that fact. (Shrugged) Guess we all know who's the Coin Star gonna be.

Makoto: (Smiles Brightly and Confidently) Yes. Yes we do. And who knows, maybe this board will go in my favor.

Two Turn Later......

Makoto: What do you mean you want Boo to steal my star?!

Ren: (Shrugged while having Mario, the character he's playing as, Stand in front of Boo on Screen) Sorry, 'hon. But let's be honest, the moment you got that Jackpot, instantly makes you a huge threat.

Makoto: (Eyes Widened in Disbelief) T-This is ridiculous! Why couldn't you steal from Luigi?! O-Or from Wario?!

Ren: They're not nearly as a threat as you are. Plus, you're already in the lead of getting the Coin Star soooo........

Makoto: That's doesn't mean you have to steal my Well Deserved Star!

Ren: Ah c'mon, Makoto. I'm sure you'll be able to get another one.... probably.

Makoto: Ren, I swear to your Goddess Mother....If you even think about picking Yoshi's name in the box, so help me, I-

Ren picks Yoshi's name on the box, having Boo steal Makoto's Star on screen.

Makoto: No!

Ren: (Shrugged While Chuckling) Welcome to the world of Mario Party, My Queen. Hope you enjoy your stay.

Makoto: (Slowly Turns to Ren with a Glare in her Eyes) Mark my words, Amimiya....One of these turns....(Pokes on Ren's Cheek) I. Will. Get. You. Back. For. This!......(Pauses at Poking Ren's Cheek for a minute) This..... isn't bothering you in the slightest, is it?

Ren: Nope. It's more adorable if anything....(Smirks at Makoto) Just like you are right now~

Makoto: (Blushes while Pouting at Ren) I am not cute!!

Two Turns Later.........

Toad starts going up in and down on his Pirate Ship Costume on Screen.....again.

Ren: You know this might be his daily workout routine, right?

Makoto: (Slowly Turns to Ren Eyes Widened in Disbelief) Why are you trying to ruin Toad for me?!

Ren: Cuz.......... Reasons.

Makoto: You're just doing this to mess with me, are you?

Ren: (Shrugged with a Smirk on his Face) Pretty much, yeah.

Makoto: (Facepalms while Sighing) Figures....

Two Turns Later.......

Ren and Makoto was able to win a 2 vs. 2 Minigame together on screen.

Makoto: (Smirks Victoriously at the Screen) This is what happens when you underestimate The Queen and Joker.....

Ren: (Smirks at the Screen as well) ...... Should've consider yourselves losers when you had the chance.

The couple gives each other Hi Fives as they continue playing the game.

One Turn Later......

Makoto: (Gives Ren a somewhat Evil Smirk on her face once Yoshi is in front of Boo on screen)

Ren: Uhhhh....Why are you staring at me like that.

Makoto: (Chooses The "Steal Star" Option and Scrolls down to Mario's name)

Ren: (Starts Getting Scared Now) H-Hold on now! D-Don't you think we need to talk about this first? I mean....(Chuckles Awkwardly) Why would you want to steal a Star from someone like me?

Makoto: Oh gee....I don't know where to start~ How about the time you STOLE a Star from me a few turns ago.

Ren: Okay. I admit....That was a pretty dick move on my part....

Makoto: Ya think?

Ren: Yes. B-But c'mon! You were a threat then. I had to do something to slow you down. Can't we just let bygones be bygones?

Makoto: .................No. (Was About to-)

Ren: Wait!! Y-You shouldn't steal from me!

Makoto: (Raised an Eyebrow at Ren) And why not?

Ren: It's... it's because I Love You!

Makoto: .....................What?

Ren: Yeah! Uh...You heard me! I love you very very much, Makoto Niijima! All day, Everyday! I mean.... Don't you love me too?

Makoto: (Sighs as she Place her Controller down on her lap and Gently Grab Ren's hand) Ren Amimiya, you of all people should know that I love you more than you or anyone else in this world, will ever know. You mean everything to me, remember?

Ren: (Smiles Softly into Makoto's Eyes) How could I? You mean the world to me too.

Makoto: I know........ However....

Ren: (Eyes Widened once He Noticed Something Sinister in his Girlfriend's Voice) !!!

Makoto: It's just like what Pitto said to everyone of us here, Ren......(Evil Smirk Forms on her Face) "Everything Goes in Mario Party."

Ren: Wait, NO-

And just like that, Makoto bring Ren's hand down onto the "A" Button on Makoto's Controller, causing Boo to steal his Star instantly on screen.

*You Got Star Fanfare Plays*

Ren: Well.......I guess you say I deserve that one, huh?

Makoto: Pretty much. But......

Ren: Hm?

Makoto: (Gently Squeezes Ren's Hand while Blushing a Little) I really do mean it when I said I love you.

Ren: (Begins to Smile Sincerely before Giving Makoto a Kiss on the Forehead) Never doubted you for a second, My Queen~ (Starts Blushing Too) I just hope that you didn't doubt me either. Cause...I really meant it when I said I love you too, you know?

Makoto: (Happily Gives Ren a Loving and Relaxing Hug) I know. And I never doubted you or those words either. Not even once.

Once Ren hugs Makoto close to him, the couple stayed like this for a couple of minutes, when suddenly.....

Ren: Hey, Makoto?

Makoto: (Snuggling into Ren's Embrace) Hm?

Ren: (Pause the Game) Instead of just finishing the rest of the game....How about we watch a movie insted?

Makoto: (Smiles Softly) Yeah. I'd like that very much.

Later that Evening......

Futuba: (Look Through the Window to see Ren and Makoto Snuggling with one another Under a Blanket) Ugh... Look at them... Acting like a bunch of Lovey-Dovey teenagers...

Dark Pit: (Rolled his Eyes) Tell me about it. They might as well give every other couple in this mansion a run for their money at this point....

Pit: (Carrying Some Shopping Bags with him) I dunno, you guys....(Smiles Brightly) I think pretty cute together.

Futuba: Too cute if you ask me.... Honestly, it's stuff like this makes me glad that I don't have a Love Interest.

Dark Pit: Wait. Don't you have a crush on that Yusuke guy or something?

Futuba: (Immediately Starts Blushing) W-WHAT?! I-I don't have crush on Inari!!

Dark Pit: (Raised an Eyebrow) Really? Then how come you keep calling him that whenever you see him?

Pit: Yeah. Why do you call him them?

Futuba: (Blush Starts Getting Darker) N-No reason!! I-I always call him that!! It's nothing special or anything! Honest!! (Squeezes Her Cup of Drink so hard that it Breaks)

Dark Pit: Whatever. (Opens the Door to get inside)

@keyenuta

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@albion-93

@chompycroc

@ink-correctsmashbrosbloo

@princeoflions123

[petitloup]

Down With Love

12 DAYS OF WHATEVER HOLIDAY YOU CELEBRATE SEASON IS actually late because I had PhD applications to submit but I’M MAKING TODAY DAY 1 so here is a nurseydex ficlet for you all!

Nursey recognizes Dex’s steps before he reaches their door, and makes a spur of the moment decision to leave his music on.

“Dude, are you… is that Judy Garland?”

Nursey has spent the better part of the afternoon lying in bed. Exams are over, his papers are in, all that’s left is Winter Screw, and Nursey is dateless. So he’s made the executive decision to put on some of the stuff his moms play around the house and just chill.

“Yeah bro. Love that woman.” Nursey can’t see Dex’s face from where he’s lying with his eyes closed on his bed, but he can hear the judgmental silence. “Why, you hating on my girl Judy?”

“Where am I? What year is it?”

The questions seem rhetorical, but Nursey cracks one eye open to glance up at his roommate. Dex looks mystified, squinting at the phone on Nursey’s beside table.

“Down With Love?”

“It’s my hashtag mood right now, brah. I’m over it with dating. It’s no bueno. I’m not doing it anymore. Judy’s wild though and as a gay icon, I feel justified taking her advice.”

“Oh.”

Nursey blinks up at Dex, who appears to be struggling with something.

“What’s with the face?” He starts to say, but Dex cuts him off.

“But Winter Screw is coming up.”

“Uh, yeah,” Nursey says, feeling lost, “and I don’t really want to spend it with someone I don’t know and don’t like.”

Dex snorts a laugh, “Yeah, your date last year was kind of shit, wasn’t it?”

“Like you don’t know. Who was it walking back to the dorms early with me after Mark got kicked out?”

“The rest of the night was decent,” Dex shrugs, and Nursey scowls up at him.

“You’re only saying that because you beat me three times at Mario Kart.”

Dex smirks at him. “Rematch this year?”

Nursey laughs, and then sighs. “Yeah, probably. At least it’ll give me something to look forward to.”

Coat hung up and bag draped across his chair, Dex runs a hand over the back of his head and glances at Nursey, looking apprehensive. “So what’s with the new dating theme?” He eyes the phone again. “I thought you were going out with that chick in your lit class today?”

In the background, Judy Garland is throwing shade.

Down with eyes romantic and stupid,

Down with sighs, down with Cupid,

Down with love, take it away away!

Nursey props himself up and shrugs a shoulder. “It was fine, but I wasn’t that into it.” He’s not really sure how much information to give here. Dex rarely asks about his dating life, usually he just purses his lips and nods if it comes up, says something like “have fun,” and then fucks off to class or wherever computer nerds go to get shit done. Nursey knows he pays attention enough that there’s a pattern. If the date went badly, they always end up watching Stranger Things or Sense8 together later, knees bumping against each other and plates of pie in their laps.

He also knows that if the date goes well, Dex is nowhere to be seen. Presumably so he doesn’t have to hear about just how well it went. Nursey figures that’s just the way he is. Dex is kind of a weird dude, old fashioned or whatever. So if he doesn’t want to hear about hookups, that’s his business.

But now, Dex is asking.

“Right,” Dex nods, “so now you’re going to Screw alone?”

“I guess. Pretty sure everyone else has a date.” Nursey wonders where this is going.

Dex flushes slightly, and that’s not unusual – Dex blushes so easy that finding new ways to turn their resident lobster-boy red is practically a team bonding activity  – but it wasn’t even an embarrassing statement.

“Do you not have a date?” Nursey asks, curiosity getting the better of him. “Because brah, you should have said something earlier. I could totally hook you up with someone. That girl, Katie, in my bio lab is going alone. Do you like blondes?”

Dex is getting progressively redder, and Nursey sits up completely to watch.

“I don’t want a date,” Dex says quickly, then makes a face. “I mean, I don’t – it’s just. It’s like you said. I don’t want to go with someone I don’t know and then have a shitty time.”

Nursey nods slowly, “Right, exactly. So why the lobster impression?”

In freshman year, the glare he gets would have rubbed him the wrong way, but Nursey just shoots him a lazy grin instead. “Seriously. What’s the sitch?”

“Don’t fucking quote Kim Possible at me you jackass.”

“You’re a redhead, you’re hyper-competent, you could totally pull it off.”

“Fuck off.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Nursey says, flopping back down on his mattress and choosing to drop the line of questioning. If its important, Dex will bring it up eventually. In the meanwhile, Judy’s done her piece, and the playlist has moved on to the next song. He closes his eyes again, and can hear the pause before Dex goes about unpacking his bag, changing into his standard worn-in waffle-knit Henley and sweats.

“Want to watch an episode of something?” Dex says, like clockwork. Nursey sits up and makes space for Dex to sit down.

“Yeah, man. Lemme go grab some pie.”

By the time he gets back upstairs, Dex has their normal set up laid out. Two blankets – they aren’t good at sharing, Dex gets all weird and gives Nursey the whole thing – and two pillows, with Dex’s laptop perched on a chair by the edge of the bed.

The bathroom door opens and Dex steps out, face still slightly pink, grabs a plate from Nursey and settles onto his side of the mattress.

They make it through an episode and a half before Dex speaks again.

“So,” he says, clears his throat, and then starts again. “So if you don’t have a date…” He trails off, and falls totally silent. The episode plays for another minute before Nursey cave.

“If I don’t have a date?”

“Yeah, uh. We could, like. Go together, since I mean. We’re going to end up back here playing Mario Kart together anyways, right? Like you said.”

Nursey needs a moment to parse through that, and isn’t totally sure what he’s looking at.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “makes sense.”

They’re both quiet. Eleven is on screen, so it should be interesting, but Nursey is distracted.

After another minute or so, Nursey reaches out and presses the spacebar. The sound cuts out.

Probably against his better judgment, Nursey just has to ask. “Poindexter are you asking me to go to Screw with you?” He looks over, and Dex is staring at his pie, his face a bright, flaming red in the light of the screen.

“I mean, that’s not. We don’t have to–”

“No, man, I want to, but I just want to. Make it clear, I guess?”

Dex gnaws on his lower lip for a moment, and looks up at Nursey from under his eyelashes. He seems to notice Nursey’s gaze still fixed on his mouth, because he licks his lips, and then looks a little surprised.

“Yeah. I guess I am.” Dex’s voice is soft and low. “If you want me to, at least.”

Nursey looks between Dex’s eyes for a moment, and then smiles, a small, tentative thing. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Dex smiles back for a moment, and then his face drops seriously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Judy Garland,” he says, “but I think I prefer Sinatra’s love songs better. Besides,” he says, reaching forward to hit the spacebar again, “I think Sinatra tried to kill off Woody Allen. He may not be a gay icon, but that’s got to give him some points.”

Nursey bursts out laughing, and leans in a little when Dex sits back. Their shoulders brush. Their knees bump. And Nursey’s got a date to Screw.