#i miss our old building it was so much quieter

[lauronk]

the absolute lack of awareness and consideration some people have continues to astound me. (personal life rant under the cut)

i live in an apartment complex with a neighbor across the breezeway who regularly plays music so loud i can make out THE WORDS in my own living room

and a downstairs neighbor with a sound system up against the wall so when they watch a movie it vibrates our floors despite us repeatedly going down to ask them to do something about it, be it adjust the bass or move the sound system or just simply turn it down a little (and every time they’re snippy with us about it)

and people who like to gather at the pool right across from our building and play loud music until past midnight ON WEEKNIGHTS

i’m all for people having fun in their homes and enjoying life and music and parties and whatever. but also it takes just a minute to consider that there are other people existing around you and be considerate of them

[rikiluvly]

MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

🥀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱

tysm to the anon that requested this! <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | more to come...

PAIRINGS: vampire!riki x human!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and your mom move into an old mansion after some struggles. but what happens when the mansion is actually occupied by 7 vampires and the youngest just can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

GENRE: vampire au, fluff, a tiny bit of angst.

WARNINGS: mention of food, slight swearing, and Ni-ki is kinda rude.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

PREVIOUSLY ON MIDDLE OF NOWHERE:

"I- I saw this shadow walking this way so... I followed it," you tilted your head down feeling slightly ashamed of your foolish behavior. should you have stayed in your dark, lonely bedroom after all?

"that's no shadow y/n, that's out Mother," his voice turned quieter as he looked into your eyes.

"after she died last year her ghost has been foolishly wandering the castle quite a lot, the library was her favorite place, no wonder you caught her coming into here," now that was a surprise, vampires now ghosts?

"I can see why, it's really nice in here," you felt sympathetic for Riki, and the others as well but he seemed really affected by it. as you looked into his eyes for a bit longer you noticed how pretty they were. for a vampire.

"yeah..." his voice drifted off as he maintained eye contact with you. his dark hair, long hair fell beside the sides of his face. up this close, you could see the beauty marks spotted around his face, the one on his chin caught your eye the most.

"you have really nice eyes y/n," he whispered as your faces were so close you swear you could kiss him.

and you did just that.

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

kissing a vampire? how stupid could you be?! except you really had to admit that the kiss was a special one that would be hard to forget.

after you had both pulled away from the connection of your lips, Riki asked you to meet him by the pond the next day. the pond seemed concerningly scary for you but you were assured by the vampire that it had more to it than just trickles of water.

the weather had just started to change into a warm daze the next day, so what perfect time for you to wear your favourite sundress. It was white with tiny flowers speckled over the linen fabric. you then decided to pair it with a white bow in your hair.

your mother had gone out into the local town to buy some much-needed food and supplies. you took the time you got 'alone' to head outside and meet with Riki. nerves were building up in your gut as you knew that whatever was to come was something not expected.

as you walked outside and approached the pond you could see Riki sitting on the edge with his feet submerged into the water. his head quickly turned around when he noticed your footsteps.

“y/n, you came,” he said having a look of excitement on his face.

“of course I did, wouldn’t wanna miss it for anything,” you said as you analysed the fountain perched in the middle of the water. mermen and mermaids were carved delicately onto the fountain.

you could feel Riki’s eyes on you as you were taking in the art.

“it’s really beautiful Riki,” his strong gaze was fixed on you as he also admired the 'view'.

"c'mon, I've gotta take you somewhere y/n," Riki connected his hand with yours, pulled you along with him, and took you through the forest around the back of the house. tall trees filled the sky and you could hear the rustling of leaves and bushes from the gentle breeze.

you and Riki approached an old grave in between two large oak trees. the name that was engraved was covered with red blood spelling the word 'FATE'.

"this is our mother... I wanted you to meet her properly this time," he took your hand and directed you to sit down in front of the grey stone.

"hi mother, I've brought someone I would like you to meet," you had realized the wind suddenly started to get more chilly when you noticed goosebumps forming on your bare arms and legs.

"her name is y/n, and she claimed to have seen you passing through the hallways at night. I thought we had decided to never enter the house again," the atmosphere started to change completely. the wind was howling intensely along with the rough swaying of the trees. you started to think about how this could be the reason you die, so as instinct you grabbed onto Riki's arm as tightly as you could.

"you're not going to die, sweetheart, not when I'm around," you forgot about that, how he could read minds. "shit, I think I've gotta get Jak-" as those words were coming out of his mouth a vampire with a foot length cloak appeared in front of your eyes.

"no fear pretty girl, Jake has come to save the day," Jake said as he gave you a wink. he's an insanely handsome guy you thought to yourself.

"hey!" Riki nudged your shoulder, you don't even have any privacy in your own thoughts anymore. Riki then whispered in your ear and insisted you close your eyes and bury your head in his shoulder so you don't get afraid. without any hesitation, you do so and suddenly feel the softness of his neck against your cheeks. "do it." you hear Riki say and a few seconds after a loud boom is heard echoing through the forest. you lift your head without any instructions to do so and take in the quiet of your surroundings.

"what happened?" you ask looking into Riki's dark eyes.

"nothing for you to worry about sweetheart, Mother just got a little angry is all," he reassured you and then proceeded to thank Jake.

"also what's with the cloak man? you look like a vampire from the 1800s," Riki said as he smirked while taking in Jake's outfit.

"Jungwon insisted we go through the old cupboard in the attic, and I gotta admit I do look pretty handsome in this cloak," he said as he winked at you for a second time.

"alright, that's enough goodbye now Jake," Jake then disappeared back into the mansion and left you and Riki alone.

"well... that did not go as planned but at least you got to see some of the horrors of living out here," he pulled you off the ground and you began to wipe the dirt from the back of your legs as you started to walk.

"Riki, may I ask, what exactly happened to your Mother?" Riki stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath.

"c'mon, I'll tell you when we reach the library."

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

“stop being so slow Heeseung!” Riki shouted to his older brother. the chuckles from him and his brothers were projected through the halls of the castle. while Riki and his fellow vampires were playing tag, Riki accidentally tripped and fell on his face. he stood up only to realize his nose was bleeding from the fall.

"you okay little guy?" Jay asked him as he inspected his red nose. "I'll take you to Sunoo don't worry," he held onto Riki's hand and directed him to the living room where their third youngest brother sat. "Sunoo can you help our youngest? he tripped and hurt his nose."

Sunoo came over to inspect Riki's injury. "of course, come here," he patted the seat next to where he was sitting and brought his hand up to cup Riki's cheeks. a light was glowing from Sunoo's warm hands and the blood from Riki's nose was disintegrating into his skin. Sunoo then released his hands from the youngest's face and asked how he feels now.

"I feel a bit funny..."

"you'll be fine, no need to worry." Riki stood up and went back to find the others so they could continue their game of tag.

"hello? Heeseung?" no one was to be found anywhere, the castle was as quiet as it could ever be. however the silence didn't last for very long, a scream was heard from around the corner. Riki was now breathing at a fast pace and his hands were shaking at his sides.

once the boy reached the corner he peeked his head to only be met with the dead body of his Mother.

a funeral was held a few days after when the brothers had finally come to reality that their Mother had passed. the seven boys surrounded the grave to say their goodbyes when suddenly red blood started to appear on the grave. the blood started to spell out a specific word.

FATE.

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

"I'm so sorry Riki..." you felt extremely bad for the seven boys. you could never understand the feeling of losing a Mother. the story gave you more drive to protect your own Mom knowing that the same thing could happen to her.

"It's okay y/n, we still don't know who killed her but... I just want to promise you that I won't let anything like this happen to you or your Mother, I want you to feel safe here," you do feel safer than when you first moved into the house that's for sure.

"I feel as safe as I could be Riki, but I should probably make my way back now, I loved spending this time with you," you stood up to make your way out of the library.

"be safe y/n."

"always," you gave him one last smile as you closed the door behind you. you really should have kissed him, how can someone go from being so rude to being so… nice?

the walk back into the kitchen felt like an eternity. you entered the room only to be met with your Mom unpacking bags of food.

“so, what were you doing when I was gone?” you hated lying, especially to your own Mom.

“I just spent some time reading in the library, y’know just checking out the books,” sure you were.

“right well let’s get lunch ready.” when lunch was mentioned you felt like you hadn’t eaten for days. once your lunch was cooked you made your way into the dining room.

to your surprise the table was occupied by six of the brothers. “what are you guys doing here!” you whispered while taking a good look at the cups of blood placed on the table. you brought your eyes to meet the empty chair that was usually to be occupied by Riki.

“lunch is served!” your mom came storming into the room and gave you a confused look. “Honey, what’s up, you look like you've seen a ghost."

can she really not see them?

A/N: hope you enjoy it! likes and reblogs would be deeply appreciated!

TALGISTL: @they2luv1naia @lwavander @itzz-me-duh @wzy3ka @lari-05 @entenen @143won @heysunghoon @soobiverse @cinasual @j-wyoung @heartbreakrikiversary @angelicjuicey @crybqbyme @hsgwrld-archive @mrchweeee @yanqiiuver @certified-niki-lover @rikisblackgf @loumin908 @jena4realz @imsodazed

[steddieas-shegoes]

if youre still doing the headcanons- "what is he doing here?"

Steve hadn't seen Eddie in two years. Hadn't talked to him in nearly three. He'd worked pretty hard to not have to hear anything about him or see any news about him for most of that time, too.

So when he sees him sitting on Dustin's couch, lounging, as if he belongs there, he gets a little pissed.

"What is he doing here?" He asks Dustin through gritted teeth.

Dustin failed to mention that anyone else would be at his house for their monthly dinner, let alone that Eddie would be here.

That Eddie was even back in Hawkins.

Eddie overheard him, sitting up on the couch quickly and staring at them both.

"Eddie's in town to visit with Wayne and he stopped by to say hi."

"And he's leaving?"

Eddie looked down at the floor.

Was he...sad? He looked sad.

Steve refused to care, he couldn't care. Not with how Eddie left.

No note, no phone call, just an apology through Dustin as if he should have ever been put in the middle of whatever they had.

But if he was this sad, maybe something was wrong with Wayne? Steve admittedly hadn't checked in with him in a few months, his questioning about what happened between them often leaving him feeling drained.

"No, he's not leaving." Dustin looked between them with an angry glare. "Neither of you are leaving actually. Not until you at least talk about things like adults. You don't have to be friends or whatever, but you damn sure can't keep doing what you're doing. Steve's miserable, Eddie's pretending he isn't. Fix it before we all tie you down and make you."

"Dust-"

"No!" Dustin held his hand up as Eddie tried to speak. "Fix it. I'm going to call Suzie and when I come back, you better at least be able to look at each other."

The next few minutes were silent. Awkward.

Painful.

He noted every physical change in Eddie, saw how thin he was, how the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten worse despite the fact that he'd left to make it big and succeeded. He should be happy.

He should be thriving.

He got everything he wanted.

He left Steve behind so he could.

"I guess we should at least talk a little," Eddie finally said, voice much quieter than Steve had ever heard it before.

"Sure."

Steve sat on the other end of the couch from Eddie, looked straight ahead so he could avoid making eye contact.

"I don't know if you keep up with me or anything-"

"I don't."

It was harsh, harsher than Steve actually meant to be. He saw Eddie flinch out of the corner of his eye, resisted the urge to apologize.

"Um. Okay, yeah. Makes sense." Eddie sighed. "I'm kind of. Okay, so I'm in Hawkins for more than just visiting Wayne."

"Okay."

"I'm here because the label isn't happy with my writer's block and they told me to take a couple months and write an album or they'll consider the contract voided."

"Mhm."

Eddie was bouncing his leg, an old anxious habit that clearly hasn't gone away.

"I'm hoping being back here will help. But I also just. I want to spend time with the people I care about. I miss everyone."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I miss you."

Steve's head turned to see Eddie looking at him, unshed tears building in his eyes.

"Eddie-"

"I know I have no right to say it. Or to even be here. I didn't just leave you, I left everyone. And I barely gave any explanation and I've barely kept in touch with anyone except Wayne and Dustin because I'm scared. I'm so overwhelmed all the time and I have so much pressure on me and I didn't want any of that I just wanted to make music and see the world. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two years. When I told our manager, he said to start taking cocaine. Taking it! Like it's medication! And I did actually use it a few times to stay awake. I hate it, hate the way I feel after, but it was that or fall asleep during photoshoots. And this sounds like I'm whining, but I'm just trying to keep it together long enough to make sure Wayne doesn't see how much I hate this and how much I just want to be here playing music at stupid bars and going fishing with him even though I hate fishing and playing D&D with the guys and kissing you."

Steve was biting back his own tears as Eddie's fell.

No matter what, no matter how he felt, no matter what Eddie had done to hurt him, it still hurt to see someone he loved hurting like this.

And wasn't that a thought.

He knew he still loved Eddie, he always would.

He just didn't think he would ever have to face it head on like this.

"Eddie, I." Steve cleared his throat. "I'm sorry things aren't what you wanted, but. I can't. I can't let you in again. I spent a year trying to tell myself you'd be back. A year watching your every move in newspapers and tv interviews. Waiting for the day you'd mention me or come visit and apologize for leaving like you did. But you didn't and I had to accept that. I had to force myself to believe that you didn't care because thinking that you did hurt worse. I couldn't love you the way I wanted to, so I had to tell myself you didn't love me, even though I'm pretty sure you did. I'm pretty sure you still do. But it wasn't enough then and it wouldn't be enough now, and I can't let myself settle for not enough. I've done it before, you know how that fucked me up. I can't let it happen again."

Eddie nodded once, then stood up.

He was leaving again, Steve knew it.

But then, Eddie sunk to his knees in front of Steve, placed his shaking hands on Steve's knees.

"If you tell me to stay, I will."

"Eddie-"

"No. Please. Tell me to stay. I don't want to go back and I need you to tell me to stay. Even if you never talk to me again, I need you to be the reason I give the guys when I tell them I can't do it anymore. They'll understand if it's you. They always knew it would be you."

"Stay. You need to stay."

Eddie sobbed as he dropped his head down, resting his forehead against Steve's knee.

Steve placed a hand on the back of his head, biting back a sob as Eddie's hands squeezed his legs.

Steve couldn't do this right now, he didn't think Eddie could either. Emotions were too high, Dustin was in the room down the hall, and Steve knew there would be yelling, and crying, and words said that might lead to regret.

But it was something to have Eddie here, something to have him begging for Steve to be the one to tell him to stay, something to know that Eddie missed him the way Steve missed them.

[satans-helper]

Reaching for Stardust - Part VII

Read Looking For Space here // Playlists here // Read on Wattpad

Word Count: ~4100

Warnings: none, really, unless you count conflict & slight sexual content

I'm very nervous to post this chapter, honestly (well, I've been nervous to post this entire fic lol). Writing conflict is something I often find challenging, particularly in fan fiction when it doesn't take much to accidentally yank the reader out of the story. But it's been a while since these two got into some emotional hard times and I hope you'll appreciate how it will go <3

---

On our third and final day in Savannah, we were walking through the cool morning air with iced coffees in hand somewhat aimlessly. I felt perfectly at ease among the charming townhouses and apartments, pale moss hanging from the giant oak trees, squares of historical plaques and statues that lined the streets and the soft blue sky. But there was a silent beckoning to return home, too. That wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling when a trip was winding down–as much as I didn’t want to leave, I also was ready to return to familiarity and guaranteed comfort. Nevertheless, I wasn’t wishing for our last day and night to fly by–quite the opposite. I wanted it to move as slowly as the breeze and the clouds above. 

Josh’s hand was in mine as we walked and when half my coffee was gone, I felt more of an urgency in his steps and his grasp as we headed east back to Forsyth Park. He was on the quieter side again though I was as well, feeling content to be lost in the vivid imagery that I was trying to commit to eternal memory when I wasn’t able to snap a million pictures. We breezed past the fountain and the trees and artists selling their own colorful prints and rogue musicians, then crossed the street and I looked up from watching a little lizard scuttle into some bushes to see an impressive white building, as old and as full of character as everything else in the city, in front of me.

“SCAD, right?” I remarked, flipping through the blips of Google that I could remember and tying that information to the architecture.

“Yeah, SCAD. Bad acronym, I think,” Josh said, holding my hand tighter as we walked around the perimeter. 

“It’s small.” I took note of how busy it appeared to be despite its modest size–people were bustling in and out of the doors we were walking past in that end-of-the-semester rush that I didn’t miss in the slightest. I looked at Josh then, curious: “Why are we here?” 

“Let’s keep walking,” Josh said, carrying me onward with a swing of his arm and more speed to his steps. “Although, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Josh had never begun a sentence with those words–they sounded foreign and awkward coming from him, too formal and weirdly foreboding. The strange moment made my heart skip a beat and I felt the same sort of dread and fear I’d felt before our flight return, something dangerous telling me to get ready, but I wasn’t prepared for whatever was coming. I waited for Josh to continue, not willing–and not feeling particularly able–to speak first.

He led us away from the school. “There’s one additional reason why I chose Savannah for this trip in addition to genuinely wanting to explore this new place with the love of my life,” Josh began, and instead of his touch keeping me from tensing up, my body began to grow tight and stiff while we walked. He paused his words until we reached a park bench, but he didn’t let me hand go as we sat down. 

Now I was dying to know. “What?” 

Josh looked up, his perfect profile aligned with the sky. “I had a job interview with SCAD right before I booked this trip, so I thought we should come down here and see the city for ourselves. See if it would be the right fit.” He turned to me, placing my hand on his knee. “I’m so, so sorry for not telling you when all of this was happening, darling. I sent out the application sort of on a whim–I didn’t truly expect them to reach out. But when they did, it felt like a chance I had to take.”

I was trying to put the missing pieces together in my mind, body recoiling in horror as all the inklings, suspicions and fears I’d felt prior to the trip became one tangled web. “So you–you wanted us to come here to see if we’d want to live here?” 

“Only possibly. If we don’t–”

“Wait, wait,” I interrupted and took my hand away. “Did you get the job?”

Josh looked crushed; I was sure that I felt worse. “I’m not sure yet.”

There were so many other things I wanted to ask–did he really want to move? He really wanted to live in Savannah? Was he really ready to leave all our friends and family? Was this the whole reason he’d wanted to wait to buy a house? Had he been planning on a new job and relocation for months? But the only thing I could bring myself to voice was, “I really wish you’d told me.” 

“I know. I know, mama, I’m so sorry,” Josh said, intuitive enough to not touch me at all though I was certain he was fighting every instinct to do just that. “We’ve never had any secrets. I’m not sure I can explain why I kept these secrets and apologizing doesn’t make up for it but I really am sorry. My mind was going too quickly throughout all of this and I let it all get away from me–from you. That wasn’t fair. But I love you and we’re not going to do anything until we decide together.”

I looked down at the sidewalk, into the dirt and grass popping up through a jagged crack. “It seems like you already made a few decisions on your own.” I wished that I were angry about all of it–anger seemed like it would be easier to deal with. Instead, I just felt hurt. Josh had never betrayed my trust like this before. The secret trip being motivated by nothing more than love and whimsy was tainted. The worst thing of all was how I was made to learn that he was more than capable of keeping secrets from me for longer than I ever thought would have been possible. 

“I know it seems that way. I decided to apply and I decided to go ahead with the interview. Anything else–that’s both of us.” Josh sighed; I still wasn’t looking at him. “I realized very quickly that I need to talk things through with you, always. I should have done that from the beginning. I can't make these decisions on my own. I hope you believe that.”

I could feel tears welling in my eyes and I wanted to just walk off, walk away from all this and pretend it wasn’t happening, while another part of me wanted to reach out in desperation, to grab hold of everything he was and everything we were before it turned to dust. “Is that why you keep pushing for us to get married?” I dared to ask. That question scared the hell out of me. “Because you wanted to like, lock it down so I couldn’t–”

Josh reached for my hand and I let him take it. “No, no, that’s not why. I’ve wanted to marry you since we first met. That will always be the truth.” 

I smiled a little despite the tears, but the curving of my lips made the tears start to fall. I laughed, feeling stupid, still feeling hurt, feeling lost and wanting Josh to make me feel secure again. “I know. I wanna marry you, too.” I squeezed his hand in mine and wiped tears away with the other before Josh could do it for me. “But you won’t buy a house in Michigan–do you really want to move to Savannah?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. I would go anywhere with you, including back home and staying there if that’s what you want.”

“But that’s not what you want.” 

“I want us to be together. Wherever that is isn’t nearly as important as just that–the two of us.” Then, Josh inched closer and reached up to gently wipe tears from my cheeks and I helplessly, instinctively laughed again. 

“I like it here, Josh,” I told him. “I really do. But I can’t imagine living here. I like where we live now. I like being close to all our people. And it doesn’t matter where Jake, Danny and Sam go–they’ll always come home and that's our home.” 

Josh nodded. “I know. That’s true.” He scrubbed one hand over his face. “I know you know I try not to let it bother me, but the truth is, I miss my brothers just the same. When the sadness about missing them–and the way things were–wouldn’t stop, I thought, well, why can’t we have our own whole new, little adventure, too? What’s stopping us from leaving?”

I sniffled. “Instead of moving, we really could just be touring groupies. Or roadies. Whatever.” I was trying to make light of it all, not having expected that sort of confession from Josh. I could read him, sure, and anyone who knew him in the slightest would be able to discern he missed the three guys who lit up his world, but still. Hearing it after months and months of watching him try to just zip through those feelings was intense and I knew how he felt too deeply. I added, “I miss them too, Josh. So much.” 

I was glad that Josh laughed. “We need a home base. We need a place they can visit us at, stay with us. Wreak havoc. Get on the neighbor’s bad sides.” He leaned into me playfully. “It doesn’t have to be here.” 

I looked around at where “here” was–the new little adventure that I still couldn’t envision as a potential home. “Well, the interview must have been good if we’re already here.” 

“I’d say it did go well. But like I said–and this is the truth–they haven’t followed up with an offer or denial yet,” Josh assured me, laying his tear-stained hand atop mine. “I felt like I dug a deeper and deeper hole for myself. I really did want to go away with you–take another vacation and have fun–but then I felt like really being here was the only way I could find the words.” He turned my hand over and laced our fingers together. “You just say the word, darling, and we won’t do it. Offer or not.”

“It’d be a huge change. Do you not want to have any real winter anymore?” I asked, wondering if that was a draw. The idea of warm, easy winter months was appealing, I couldn’t deny that. But perpetually, I wasn’t so sure about that, no matter how good it might be. Some of my most favorite moments between us had actually happened in swirling snow.

“Oh, on the contrary,” Josh said, smiling for the first time since we’d begun this conversation. “I was thinking about a winter wedding.”

  “Really?” That perked me up. “Or just to align with this new job?”

Josh smirked and put his arm around me. “They might tell me to fuck off for all I know. But really, yes–a winter wedding. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Even with the delightful times throughout the cold months, we both eventually struggled through the long, dreary, dark winters of the Midwest–maybe a wedding full of sparkling white, silver and blue would help us see it through for the years to come. I could see it. 

“It would be,” I agreed, wiping away the last remnants of tears. Had this sequence of events happened even a year ago, I was sure my instinct to run away and retreat would have reared its head with full force; now though, the security and unwavering love I felt from and for Josh was enough to keep me there, sitting on that park bench with his hand in mine and my confused, sore heart already on its way to healing. 

“I should have married you a long time ago,” I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. What had I ever been waiting for? What was there ever to be afraid of? The secret Josh had harbored began to feel less and less consequential–he was always going to be by my side, and vice versa, no matter where the universe took us. And I knew whatever we decided would be what we decided. 

Josh smiled and traced my knuckles with his thumb. “Yes, you should have and I should have told you about this job the second I saw the posting for it. Lessons learned. Better late than never, hmm?”

I leaned back, turning my face toward the sky, and sighed. “Sure, of course. Jesus, Josh. Now there’s so much to think about.”

“Let’s not think about any of it right now. Let’s think about what we want to do for the rest of today.” 

I blinked up at the clouds. “I want to eat something delicious.”

“We can do that.”

“I want to drink copious amounts of alcohol.”

Josh giggled. “Absolutely.”

“I kind of want to punish you for being bad.”

A surprised, excited laugh. “Oh! Well, I imagine we can do that, too.”

I sighed, looking back down at the ground. My heart still felt a little heavy, but my mind was clearing with each exchanged word. “I love how excited you get about things,” I told him, meeting his gaze, catching the sunlight sparkle in his pupils. “I love how you never stop moving, body and mind. But I like to feel like I’m right there with you.”

“You are.” Josh brought my hand to press against his chest. “Always.”

I moved it down to try and feel his heartbeat. “You know, we’ve talked about getting married so much, I really don’t know if the proposal will even be a surprise. You say otherwise, but–”

“Don’t say that,” Josh said with a little laugh. “It will be. I promise. I’ll just throw myself off a cliff or into the ocean if it falls flat.”

The house from the estate sale returned to my mind and I felt tense again, guilty for harboring my own little secret, though I had to admit to myself that my intentions behind keeping it weren’t quite as scary as Josh’s. “I have to tell you something, too,” I said, clearing my throat as if I were about to make a big speech, but really I was just trying to work the rest of the crying out of my body. “I actually kind of forgot about it while we were here. But you know that necklace I just gave you for your birthday?”

Josh reached up to touch the pendant. “Yes.”

“Okay, so, I got it from that estate sale that was happening like 15 minutes away from our place. I mentioned that to you.” I could hear myself talking too quickly, excited and nervous to finally relay the full experience of that event. “But what I didn’t tell you is that the actual house is going up for sale soon and I told the woman, the daughter of the owner who passed, that I’d be interested. She said she’d call me when she actually puts the house on the market.” 

Josh smiled, genuine and big, and my heart’s heavy weight began to dissipate again. “Really? What’s it like?” 

“It’s really cute. The outside needs some work,” I told him, trying to remember all of it. “But the inside looks pretty good. Some new paint would help for sure, and if we did look at it, we’d need to really look, but–yeah. I liked it. It felt like a real home.”

“Alright, so let’s look at it when it goes up,” Josh said, taking both of my hands in his. 

“Really? You want to?”

“Absolutely, my darling. I got so caught up in the mere idea of this SCAD job that I don’t think I could see the forest for the trees.” He scooted in closer across the bench, locking our fingers together. “I never meant to make you feel like I was putting your wishes on hold. I want it all–to marry you and to have a home and everything that happens after. The little pieces are just that–little pieces.” 

I needed to be sure so I asked, “So your heart isn’t completely set on Savannah? Because if you really want this job–and you get an offer–and you want to live here, I’m not going to discount it right away. Okay?”

Josh shook his head. “My heart is set on us being together and being happy. Truthfully, I’m not so sure I could live here either. It’s not calling to me in that way. But I love it here nonetheless and I am so glad you came with me on the journey.”

Over dinner Josh filled me in on more details. The job at SCAD did pay more than his current job, which was the biggest thing I had to consider, though it seemed to be the least important thing to him. Josh had never been all that motivated by money–he was truly in his field for the experience. He loved teaching and mentoring, loved the history of film, the ins and outs of the craft and he loved learning and creating more than anything. He told me more about how he hadn’t really thought about moving until Jake, Danny and Sam moved themselves, and how he thought about Detroit because the thought of being away from Jake wasn’t something he wanted to deal with yet, but when their band started to tour more, Josh felt almost rebellious about it. He was happy for their success, of course, and wanted to see them grow, but he felt like some of his own roots had been torn from the ground and figured setting up more roots of his–and our own–elsewhere might be a way to cope. 

That was when he sort of, kind of, as he said, started looking around at other jobs. He thought my own desire for adventure would fuel whatever we decided, though right after he applied for the SCAD job, he realized that my own version of adventure wouldn’t really involve moving away. Josh said he knew how much I loved where we lived and how I wanted to be close to everyone we loved, and he almost didn’t go through with the interview but went for it anyway, then felt so wrapped up in his self-made sequence of events and subsequent fear–something he seldom had to face–that he didn’t know how to tell me. But he really did want to see this place for himself, recognizing that he couldn’t move somewhere without exploring it first, and he was leaning away from Savannah being a new home. 

That reassured me even more–I really did love our small hometown in a way I’d never loved anyplace else. I loved the four seasons, how the lush greenery exploded after the spring rain came and the sun graced us after another harsh, dreary winter; the hot summers that were so short we had to hold onto every day of extended daytime as if it were the last; the brilliant autumn when slants of sunlight cast warm spells over the changing leaves. I loved the trails we walked together and I loved the Kroger that was just a few minutes away from our apartment; I loved being so close to my sister, to my parents, to Josh’s parents, to Danny’s parents, to everyone we treasured; I loved that abandoned barn that had helped to begin my relationship with Josh and the vast, deep sky that hung above it, housing millions of stars that felt closer to earth when we were really home.   

We were tipsy again as the night was dwindling to a close and the twilight hours were inching near us. Back at the airbnb, Josh and I shared the last of the wine from the night before; once it was finally gone, we were pulling each other’s clothes off to trade for the sheets on the bed. I climbed over Josh and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head. He looked delighted at that, his toothy smile gleaming in the cool, low light while his eyes sparkled, staring into my own. 

“No more secrets,” I said, bringing my face close to his. “From either of us. Okay?”

Josh nodded. “No more secrets,” he echoed, then stuck his tongue out. 

I ducked and swiped my own tongue over his bottom lip. “Good.” I freed one wrist and ran my hand down his arm, squeezing his bicep before I felt the warmth of his chest beneath my palm. “You really scared me, Josh.”

He gave an exaggerated yet earnest frown. “I’m sorry, mama,” he said, lifting his hand to my face, running his fingers through the hair at my temple. “That was not my intention whatsoever.” 

“I know,” I assured him. I mirrored his action, cupping his cheek with my hand, then traced the shell of his ear with my fingertips before I ran them through his hair. He was practically purring then, a soft, low rumble from his chest while he kept staring into my eyes. With anyone else, the level of eye contact Josh demanded would have been exceptionally uncomfortable; with him, it made me feel like we were the only two people in the universe. 

Josh’s hand wandered down to my hips. “You should take these off,” he said, tugging at the waistband of my underwear. “Then take mine off, too.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making requests,” I said with a chuckle, then an uncontrolled giggle burst from me when he tickled the inside of my thigh. I clamped my legs harder around him and grabbed that hand away, pinning it over his head once more. “No, no tickling either. That’s not fair.”

Josh turned his head to the side and sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. Whatever gets you on my cock faster.”

I laughed loud and sharp, not expecting such casual, flippant dirty talk. I let his wrists go so I could slide down and away, leaving him with his arms extended after me; I grabbed his own underwear and yanked the fabric away from his body and his erection sprang free. In my tipsy state, with my mind still clinging to scraps of fear, I gawked at his nude form, so free and beautiful that it felt insane in that moment that he was there with me at all. But he was. 

I wasn’t going to let the worst parts of myself creep up any further–I freed myself of my bra and panties before Josh could say or do anything, then I was on top of him again, collecting his face in my hands so I could kiss his soft, sensuous mouth. Even his little mustache and beard combo were soft thanks to the oils and moisturizers he diligently used, though I giggled again when he began kissing my neck and the hair tickled my skin. 

“I really hate when you feel far away from me,” I said as Josh reached one hand down, grabbing my ass in encouragement. I laid my fingers over his jaw, making him meet my gaze. “Even if it doesn’t happen very often.” 

“I could never be far away from you,” Josh replied, sincerity dripping from the words even with his buzzed slur. He giggled and added, “I could be on the other side of the world and I still wouldn’t be far.” 

I huffed when his hand moved between us, his effort to try and fully connect us sending a shiver up my spine. “I’d just follow you.”

Josh’s wild, wine-drenched smile appeared on his face. “You would?”

“Duh.” I kissed him again, slow and sweet. “No question.” 

With that, I lifted my hips and took him in; Josh hugged me snugly around my waist as he lifted his hips in return and I braced my hands on his shoulders. A brief blip of the memory of our first time together appeared to me and I caught my breath in my chest, recognizing that, in this moment, it felt so similar. The vulnerability and exposure of our first time was long gone, but the special something that drew us to one another so viscerally was still there–an invisible string that wrapped us together and tied the knot. Josh still looked at and touched me with the same reverence he’d had then; I tried to reciprocate with gentle strokes over his face, looking down at him and still able to see the bursting bundle of stars I’d fallen so madly in love with so quickly that it’d been an aching pain to come to terms with. 

Now, it was so easy to love Josh and to show the entire world how much I did, no matter how small that world was.

---

Tagging: @jjwasneverhere @colorstreammind

LMK if you wanna be tagged in my fics here (or DM me!)

[clatterbane]

Back home for long enough to have changed back into my sweatpants now. And pretty exhausted, but it was more than worth it.

A little more from this evening's big adventure!

I wasn't sure what to expect in terms of how the timeframe might work here for these things, but suspected that if they were saying doors open at 6 and the first band was supposed to go on at 7? This being Sweden, they might actually mean it. So, I thought I might do worse than to aim for around 6:30 getting there, to make sure I could find the accessible bathroom and everything while it was still quieter.

So yeah, after that little detour heading off the wrong way down our own fucking street to get to the bus stop? I actually caught a 6:38 bus there. 🙄 Which is a little too on brand.

But, at least I am consistent!

Where I was supposed to go after getting off the bus (follow the dotted line) vs. where I actually started going--and needed to consult Maps again--after some "it's too dark to read the street signs properly without working glasses" wrong turn:

Yeah, I rolled way the hell off in a strange direction down some side street, and things were really not looking right if I was not aiming for some apartments or a park.

Spotted once I got away from the park and sorta back on track, though. "DEATH TO FALSE PUNX"

I can't quite rely on doing the absolute damn opposite of whatever devil posing as my sense of direction is telling me to do, George Costanza style--but, it really can be tempting at times. The results could hardly be more frustrating.

Somewhat back on track but still having very little idea where the fuck I was going, with the freaking Maps app open in my lap, I did eventually find the right address. And then wasn't much less confused.

Because Maps was indeed pointing me down this random industrial-looking alley. 🤔

This is looking back out toward Norra Grängesbergsgatan, where I had turned in. By that point, I could hear music and figured I was at least getting warm. After trying the closest couple of (unmarked, locked) doors I could find to where the sound seemed to be coming from, thankfully some guy came by to park his bike so I caved and asked him where the club entrance was.

"Just go back around another side of the building and turn by the old red truck and the toxic waste drums! You can't miss it."

Not what Random Guy actually replied, but yeah. He did kindly point me in the right direction. Automatically opting for English, after hearing whatever frazzled attempt at asking for directions came out of my mouth by that point. This would not be the first or last awkwardness of the night, but I survived.

By the time I got to the actual entrance, it was like 7:15 and the first opener hadn't really gotten going yet. Ended up not being terrible timing, after all the fun getting there this evening.

Especially now that I have seen some landmarks to look out for, pretty confident that I could get myself back there without too much trouble, at least. I am on MUCH firmer ground with navigating by landmarks. Though, that did work better back home in a less built-up environment with way more varied terrain. (I say, as I am remembering having to repeatedly, say, go turn around in somebody's cow pasture once the pavement ran out and shit like that. 😒 Still not sure exactly where some of the places I ended up were, pre-GPS access.)

And it did seem worth going back to Plan B. Pretty chill environment, and they do get some good shows. Pretty much everything I've been vaguely interesting in seeing so far here in town. Glad to have finally trekked over there to check it out.

[lonita]

Montreal - part 1

I figured a trip to a city that I've never seen anything of but the train station, wouldn't be without its adventures and incidents, but I didn't figure those experiences would start with the trip barely even begun. Who knew? The bus station in Hamilton has self-flushing toilets. I also didn't know that the next trip experience would include me developing a head and chest cold on the train to said city. So, my first purchase in Montreal was a bottle of decongestant. Yummy. Never used Robitussin before, and I have to say that it doesn't taste too bad. Certainly tastes better than Buckley's. (Anything would, though.) We walked from the train station to the hostel we were staying at, and on the way passed St. Patrick's Basilica which is a lovely old church dedicated to, and used by, the city's Irish Catholic population. We visited Notre Dame on our last day, which was very lovely, and very blueish. (I never did get to see its named counterpart when I was in Paris, much to my regret.) I'm not a church-going person by any stretch of the imagination, but I like visiting old churches. Some are quite lovely. Our first impression of the city was, "Gosh, it's awfully quiet for a big city on a Saturday afternoon." That impression quickly changed when we headed off to Rue St. Catherine later on. That's one of the main streets, and it seems Montreal retains quite a lot of European style habits that don't seem to exist in other Canadian big cities; namely that all the action is concentrated (more or less) on what (in England) would be called the high street. That street is covered in what one would normally find on a high street; lots of shops, restaurants, a few theatres, and lots of people. Surviving in Montreal isn't too difficult for non-French speakers, since the city is not only well-used to tourists, but is what could be termed the English city of the French province. One of the best universities in the country is there (McGill), and it's an English university. (Most of it scattered through various buildings lining Stanley Street, which goes up a hill towards Mount Royal. Must be hell in winter.) Montreal, like many large cities worldwide, has its own Chinatown, which is marked off by these really lovely gates. (Unfortunately the picture I took of one of those gates, got deleted.) The pharmacy there has a pharmacist who can, according to the sign, speak English, French, and six different dialects of Chinese. It's not a large Chinese section, from what I could gather, but it wasn't without its charms. It had what a Chinatown usually has; lots of shops, lots of restaurants (from very Chinese to very catering-to-North-Americans), and lots of people. The hostel was stayed at (Auberge Alternative du Vieux Montréal), located in Old Montreal near the port and right across the street from what used to be the Central Fire Station but is being reconstructed to be a museum, was quite nice. The people (staff and guests) were friendly, the place was well-equipped, and it was cheap. ($18 per night) I'd recommend it to anyone; and, according to other guests I heard talking, it ranks between 8 and 9 on a hostel scale of 1 to 10.

The metro (subway, tube, underground, etc.) was a metro, but not full of the sort of graffiti one imagines the New York subway to possess. It was clean, and extensive enough. The cars were narrower than the ones in Toronto, but the trains ride quieter, as the cars use rubber wheels. (Fare is $2 per trip, but you can buy a strip of tickets - I think it's 10 - for about $8.50. They also have monthly passes and special three or four day passes mainly geared for tourists.) Though the metro is nice, the only way to see the city is really by foot. It might be a lot of walking, and some of it uphill, but you miss so much of the flavour by staying underground or on buses.

We ate some traditional regional food, of course, but that's one thing you should (in my not so humble opinion) always do when you visit a place you've not been before. There's the smoked meat that the city is well-known for, which is just smoked ham, and poutine. Poutine is French fries covered in gravy and cheese curd. It's really, really yummy. The city has other European touches; like the proliferation of cafes, and the existence of what the population of France would term a tabac. That's just a small shop, smaller than a convenience store, that sells cigarettes, beer, wine, junk food, and small things like that. One thing you have to bear in mind, though, should you stay in Old Montreal, is that there don't seem to be too many grocery stores or tabacs. There's one five minutes walk from the hostel we stayed at, but there didn't seem to be any others, and the closest pharmacy is the one for Chinatown. It's not that far of a walk, though. The city has two IMAX theatres, which is very nifty, and has (of course) the Olympic Stadium. Right under the stadium, in a building that was used for sports like handball and such, is a place called the Biodome. This is now used as an indoor zoo. It's an amazing place. It's set up as forests, each room playing host to a different style of forest. There's an Amazonian type jungle room with crocodiles, tropical birds and fish, and a Laurentian forest room which plays host to North American wildlife. (Including a water area with seagulls… seemed a bit useless to add a room with seagulls, the damn things are all over - like pigeons - but I suppose that's the point.) Another thing to keep in mind, is that sometimes Montreal has what's called Museum Day (not sure how many times a year they do this), and on this day most of the city's museums are free. I think the Biodome has a cost to get in, but it seems that it might be free after a certain hour of the day, since we paid nothing to get in. It costs $10 to go up the elevator in the tower of the Olympic stadium, which might be a bit pricey, but it's really a lovely view of the whole city.

[starlitdownfall]

The First Eve

"Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told (The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,) That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive, And her enchanted hair was the first gold. And still, she sits, young while the earth is old, And, subtly of herself contemplative, Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave, Till heart and body and life are in its hold." — Dante Gabriel Rossetti

“Lilith, my darling. It’s time to wake up.”

His voice is so deep and gentle, like the lapping flames of a forgotten fire in the forest of faeries. It travels down to me within the depths of slumber to drag me to shore, pulling me out of one world and into another. I know that if I open my eyes I will not see the stars in the sky anymore, and on this precipice of where the edge draws away from the ocean, I question if I should ignore his voice and dive back in.

“My darling, my dearest.”

My heart feels as though it hasn’t beaten since the dawn of time and my first breath of consciousness feels like the weight of the universe sinking into my chest. The chirping ambiance of twilight sings its song outside the window and it reminds me of Eden, when the world spun much slower, much quieter. Now it feels as though the threads of time and humanity unraveled in a blink of an eye. Eden grew unruly, and eventually, into cement jungles, the air thick with smog to hide infinity’s beauty.

It wasn’t pomegranate seeds that he seduced me to crunch between my teeth, nor was it a bundle of apples, bitter and sweet, but grapes in abundance. He gifts me the wretched hearts of his children, our children, and spoiled wine.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” His voice is clearer on the crest of my coerced awakening, and I already forget the beauty of the fae and stars. Perhaps I’ve fallen victim to the tell of time a few times this eternity, but minutes feel like hours while blending in as a soul that has seen everything the mundane world has to offer. I’m spinning with the Earth, and I take another breath for the first time again.

While here, breathing, being reborn over and over ad nauseam, I never lose touch with my lives lived, and I often envy the souls who simply bounce from one life to the next until they finally find enlightenment and are never tortured by the pathetic pasts they’ve since endured. I swallow thickly as my new eyes finally open to the brink of dusk skirting past chiffon curtains.

To breathe again into these fresh lungs, I miss the very first day I ever looked into infinity. The night sky filled with stars that were so beautiful, I wept. I didn’t know who I was, or if I had a past, I only knew that I was there and without a trace. To exhale from a new body with an old soul, I carry every before into the now and long for the days that I could take an inventory of the richness that once flooded my senses, even the second and third time I awoke into a new life. To listen once more, there is newfangled nonsense of transportation and horns outside instead of the melodic chirping of crickets, and it causes my head to ache with an onset anxiety.

Where am I this time around?

“Lilith,” I hear my name for the thousandth or so time, but I miss the day I heard it first by the lips of someone else, Adam, despite our great tribulation. Eventually, this new day will draw onto dusk and I will remember The Creation—where I met her, and him, for the first time—and I will be led into the nightmares I must swallow and keep down to remain this way, a corrupt recreation.

'I rose from dust and I will not lie beneath you, we are equal,' My scream resonates as a distant memory echoes back to me and I finally rise from where I lay in an unfamiliar bed. Yet, I know right away, the familiarity of the buildings outside are this London’s modern world and I’m somewhere as high as fifty floors with a balcony that feels inviting. Bare feet meet the cool, hard tiles, and my vision whirls into a new orientation as my feeling of balance comes into play. Take a step, adjust to the new body, and systematize the script of my internal monolog. At first, I stumble and collide with a table, marking my new territory with a vibrant bruise that will come to the surface in only a matter of a sweet time.

“Ouch,” The cadence of my outward voice is less appealing than it sounded inside my head. It sounds foreign, different than the melody of my true voice. No matter, I reach for the sliding glass door that leads me onto the gallery of overcast where I can brace myself against the balustrade. White-knuckling the wrought iron, I struggle to compartmentalize every fiber of my new being that wants to find flight amongst the cold, autumn wind over the edge.

“This one, she’s a bit like a fallen angel, nearly outran me before I could catch her.” His voice again—accompanied by a laugh that sounds like charred lemon and honey tastes—it emerges from the farthest corner of the bedroom just as he does into the light of early morning. A face I’ll never forget, no matter how many I’ve seen now. Dark, disheveled hair and eyes as starless as the new world’s sky, I encapture it all with a glance over my shoulder.

He has a favorite mold he looks for, both for himself and myself.

Turning back toward the cityscape, my lips part in disbelief despite my strong faith, his name like a drink of holy water, “Alistair.”

“You look incandescent, of many suns, my dear.” His hands, cool to touch despite the frigid winds that have already laid their claim, rest on my tired shoulders. A new frame, touched for the first time by my flightless lover. The fact is, I haven’t breathed for years, and adjusting to a new body is exhausting.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to penetrate successfully, but sure as Hell, it’s been worth the wait,” His lingering laugh is sweet but virulent as arsenic. “This one, she was ready to die.”

“How long?” I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was clinging to as I’m greeted by an unfamiliar reflection that I’ll soon forget isn’t my own. I’ll never be the woman from dust and ash designed for Adam again. With eyes, blue like the ocean, and hair like scorched whiskey and golden berries, I am as ethereal as budding deception and death. Alistair holds the hand glass steady, and I catch him admiring while I inspect apprehensively. I was once with red hair like the sun behind a cloud and the light of day revealing my hidden depths. I once had eyes that were a green reflection of the first world that I was meant to build. Now, I am barren, no flowers bloom within the chasm of my loins anymore, but it’s never stopped my forbidden lover from trying—and sometimes succeeding.

“Six years.” He withdraws the mirror and I seek the sunrise for a moment of solitude. With a body that was successfully led off the edge of its life, the chance of its previous soul having left fragments behind sends fear unfurling up my spine like a thick sheet of ice.

Those particles will be shards waiting at the bottom of my subconscious, to be picked up each time I fall into slumber, adding to the endless labyrinth of nightmares and the chance of even more time lost in a glasshouse. Touched again, I gasp as his fingers stealthily latch a gold necklace at my nape. “Now, now, darling…” Its dainty gold emblem of a crescent over a cross lays peacefully at the horizon of prominent collarbones and veils me with a sense of nostalgia—home. Both mind and matter now residing in a conscious body again, I lay back into the arms of my lover against a chest where a heart beats in harmony with mine anew.

“You needn’t worry your mind, there’s much to do.” He speaks against my temple in unholy worship, kissing me. “Did you miss me?”

I live eternally aloof, “Of course I did.”

[noahlev]

GBL 2960 Blog Entry 15 - Jan, 17: Compare and contrast your cultural impressions of the south of France with those of your stay in Italy.

After traveling around Italy and visiting many important cities, structures, and historical sites; I was ready for a new scene. Although I had loved my time in Italy, I was ready for a change from the constant Roman influence, the long travel days, and the amount of history and importance that was jam-packed in every inch of the Italian cities. When we first arrived in the south of France, I felt that I was immediately in a more relaxed atmosphere than in Italy. Arriving in Nice, I noted many Roman influences during our walking tours, such as the use of orders of columns, architectural style, and layout of the city. There were hints of Italian and Roman influence that I found, however, the city itself seemed much quieter and more relaxed than any of the Italian cities we visited. Due to its proximity to the coast and its smaller population than Rome or Florence, I felt like Nice was somewhere I could see myself living in the summers. As far as the culture, I had never been to France before, so Nice was a great way to get my first insights into french culture and cuisine. The first group lunch in Nice was excellent and we were met with warm hospitality, as a whole I felt that in my interactions with the citizens of France, I was more respected and the people were nicer than in Italy. I felt more at ease with the cities in France than the tourist sticking out in Italy, gawking at the architecture. As we traveled throughout France, one thing that stuck out to me which differed drastically from Italy, was the amount of modernization that was taking place. While there were urban centers in Italy that I had seen; France was more of a hub of modernization and urbanization, with efforts on sustainability and keeping citizens happy. This was evident when we visited the sustainability district in Nice, and had a class lecture about ways they were improving their stagnant suburbs. This was something that I felt was missing in Rome. For instance, when we visited the Jubilee church in the suburbs of Rome, our guide Anthony explained to us, and we saw, that the suburbs around the church were old and depressing. Rather than sticking a church in the center of the town, there should have been more revitalization efforts.

The effects of modernization were seen throughout France, especially in Marseille and Nîmes, with the MUCEM and the Gehry building. The cities seemed to not only embrace their past cultural and historical roots, as we saw many important ancient structures in France, but they also were in touch with modernization and were putting effort into revitalization (Euromeditteranee) in Marseille for instance. When I visited Monaco with some classmates on a free afternoon, the level of modernization and “showing off” exhibited by France was astounding. We walked around the small city center and entered the Monte-Carlo casino. The Casino itself looked like one of our classic great structures, as it was ornately decorated and had paintings all over. It looked like the Palazzo Vecchio inside. However, inside the casino were high-tech gambling centers, and the building itself was surrounded by modern architecture, mega yachts, and luxury cars. Monaco was a great example of a place in France where they strive to show off and are not dominated by religion, and cultural imagery. France had a great balance of both old and new districts while in Italy, I felt that the old was all anyone cared about. In speaking of modernization, What I felt was a core difference in the cultures of Italy and France were the impacts of religion and the church on both the people and the city. In Italy, you could hardly walk down the street without seeing religious imagery, churches, or cathedrals. In France, although religion still served a large impact on people's lives, I felt that its inflect was far more muted as there were a few large churches and religious imagery, but as a whole, I felt people there were living in the present and looking to modernize. Lastly, I noted that in France, people were more willing to support local artists and people with passions as opposed to being constantly overwhelmed by the grip that ancient classics had on the culture. For instance, we marveled at the LUMA building, and even walking down the street, there were many galleries and independent stores in the south of France, rather than in Italy where there were constantly museums and galleries dedicated to great masters like Michelangelo or DaVinci. In conclusion, while I loved both Italy and the South of France, I would rather personally live in France if I had to choose. Both countries shared many similarities in culture, but It was hard to escape the overbearing presence of religion and ancient history that had its grip on Italy, while the cities in France found a balance between their classics and their visions to modernize and stay more in touch with the present.

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 6 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary technoblade leaves the next morning, turning tommy and y/n back to their usual business of bow work and baking. but tommy lets his usual curiosity get the best of him and questions y/n about the war, leading to a solemn result and revealing some terrible truths.

warnings mentions of war, death, and murder

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @herobrine​

tommy woke up late the next morning, which he presumed was understandable. he had stayed up late last night talking with y/n and technoblade, watching as they laughed and reminisced about the past, enlightening tommy with old tales and teases. he appreciated that they had made sure to include him in the conversation, but he couldn’t help but feel.. invasive. the two were obviously very close..

that thought was only further proven to him when he made his way to the kitchen in the morning. he was met with the smooth sound of y/n humming, and when he peeked into the room, he saw her smiling as she braided back technoblade’s long hair. tommy didn’t speak a word, fearing interrupting the seemingly intimate moment.

but y/n, without looking up, had noticed him. “good morning, tommy.”

he cleared his throat, stepping fully into the kitchen. techno, who had had his eyes closed in peace, opened one to glance at the kid. “morning.”

“there are some berry muffins left warming in the oven if you’d like,” she hummed, still working intently on braiding the hybrid’s pink hair. tommy immediately perked up at the mention of food.

“berry muffins, you say?”

y/n smiled. “i’ll teach you to make them, if you’d like.”

tommy picked the remaining couple muffins out of the warm oven as he considered her words. “sure.”

“how much have ya learned to cook, tommy?” techno asked him as he took a bite out of the delicious muffin. tommy shrugged.

“not too much,” he answered. “i can make steak, potatoes, pork chops, cookies, and pumpkin pie. enough to hold my own, i think.” y/n nodded.

“well, that’s another thing you’re learnin’ from the best,” techno sighed, offering y/n his hairband as she reached the end of his long hair. “y/n’s a great cook.”

y/n just shrugged. “well, kinda back to our topic last night, it’s a nomad thing i picked up. you travel around so much, you learn a lot of different recipes from a lot of interesting people.”

“do you miss it?” tommy spoke through a mouthful of muffin.

“don’t speak with your mouth full, tommy,” she scolded with a laugh, placing her hands on techno’s broad shoulders after tying his hair. “but..” she shrugged. “sometimes. i miss all that i got to learn and experience, but i know i’ll find my way back out there one day. for right now, im satisfied staying here and helping people out. especially people with long, pink hair who can’t manage a tight braid to save their life.”

techno looked over his shoulder at her as tommy let out a loud laugh. “i know you’re jokin’, but that one hurt.” she laughed, squeezing his shoulders before moving away to pour tommy a glass of milk.

as tommy began to scarf down another muffin, technoblade checked the small, golden clock he kept in his pocket. “i should get goin’. i told phil i’d be back by sunrise tomorrow.”

“alright,” y/n nodded as she placed the glass of milk in front of tommy. the boy thanked her as technoblade stood from his seat. “your axe should be cooled by now, let me go check.” he nodded as she scurried out of the room.

there was a moment of awkward silence before tommy gulped down some milk and spoke, “so, how’s phil?”

“good,” techno spoke plainly. another awkward silence filled the bright kitchen.

“.. does he ever talk about me?”

techno didn’t even flinch. “yeah. a lot.”

tommy glanced up at the hybrid. “really?”

techno nodded, considering what to say as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “listen kid.. i know you’ve made this place a sort of home for ya, and that you and y/n have formed a close bond..” techno sighed. “but there’s gonna be a day where things catch up and you’re gonna have to leave neutral. that government ya made isn’t gonna leave ya alone, exiled or not. so when things do go wrong..” tommy gave techno a cautious look, but the piglin just nodded at him. “come find phil and i. we’ll take care of ya.” tommy’s heart immediately warmed. “maybe not as well as y/n, but it’ll be something.”

tommy nodded with a somber smile. as kind as techno’s words were, the thought of leaving neutral honestly hadn’t occurred to him in a while.

“thanks, techno,” he nodded. “i appreciate it.”

“‘course, kid.”

“alright,” y/n sighed as she came back into the kitchen. “one lukewarm netherite sword, and a fixed up netherite chest plate. and..” techno took the fixed materials from her as she walked over to her fridge, pulling out a bag. “enough food to last your journey. and a little longer, ‘cause i know phil likes my pie.”

“he does,” technoblade nodded, taking the bag from her hands. “thanks for everything, y/n.”

“of course,” she shrugged. “it’s what im here for.” he nodded with a small smile, and she held her arms out to him. tommy was surprised to watch techno accept her embrace, giving her a tight hug before pulling away and offering him a wave.

“i’ll see ya around, kid,” techno nodded.

“it was good seeing you, techno,” tommy smiled. and the piglin left.

...

“deep breath, tommy,” y/n reassured. his usual target had been moved back a couple more paces, increasing his usual struggle with aiming the bow. but he still did as instructed, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders in the slightest before releasing the arrow he had drawn. it lodged itself to the left of the bullseye. “great shot!”

tommy grinned as he looked over to her. “im getting better.”

“and that’s all we can ask for,” y/n agreed, placing a hand on his shoulder. ��come on, kid, let’s take a break. you’ve earned it.”

as they walked back into the kitchen, tommy inquired, “so where’d you learn to make the berry muffins?”

she laughed, retrieving a pitcher of water from the fridge. “it’s actually a recipe that niki and i made together. just, uh..” she thought as she poured them some water. “just a little before the war, i believe.” she pursed her lips as she placed his glass in front of him. he felt the previously light atmosphere begin to sink into something darker. more serious. “i suppose you know of the war by now.”

tommy shrugged. “i..” he raised his glass to his lips. “i know very little.”

he didn’t dare look up at her as she sat across from him at the kitchen table. “can i ask what you know?”

he finally looked up, seeing her eyes were as kind and patient as usual. for some reason, talking with her about the war seemed invasive. it felt intrusive; like he had walked into some personal part of her that he wasn’t supposed to discover. but looking into her eyes, tommy realized that they couldn’t avoid this conversation. the war was a part of her.

“technoblade and ghostbur told me a bit,” he admitted, his finger swirling around the rim of his glass to distract himself as he talked. “just that.. i know it was between alivebur, dream, and techno implied that there were more involved? techno told me that dream put out a claim on you, and everyone resisted that, including you, and then wilbur entered it to try and win you over, and..” he shrugged. “it ended with neutral. that’s all i know. really.”

y/n nodded. “i believe you. and you’ve got some of the more important details..” she took a long sip of her water. “the war was between dream, alivebur, and technoblade.” tommy’s eyes widened.

“technoblade?”

“yeah,” she nodded. “dream sent out a claim for me, wilbur stepped in and tried to claim me in return, and then techno stepped in to stop the both of them and convince me to go with him.”

“wow,” tommy whispered, taking a drink. he took in the new information before changing his curiosity. “what were the battles?”

“the first official fight was between dream and wilbur,” she answered. “then they both started to gain support from friends, and build miniature..” she considered. “i wouldn’t dignify them as armies, but i guess they were miniature armies. i remember they all eventually got tired of those and began to send each other duel challenges, but i actually managed to shut that down.” tommy nodded. “just because..” she shook her head, looking out of the kitchen window. her eyes had grown distant. “that was not worth losing a canon life over.”

“was that the only thing you managed to stop during the war?” tommy asked, his voice quieter than before. y/n considered.

“i think so,” she sighed. “it was just such a ridiculous war; it was somehow over me, and yet i didn’t get a single say in anything that happened. i-i’m not some blacksmith you can lay claim to and use whenever you need!” she spoke defensively. realizing she was exuding her frustration in the wrong place, she took a breath and looked back to tommy calmly. “they treated me like a possession that entire war, and i couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

“was there ever a winner?” tommy questioned. “i mean, the war stopped eventually.”

“i was the winner,” y/n spoke. “i proved to them that i wasn’t a piece of property to steal, that i have control over my own life and my own actions. and then i established neutral.”

“how’d you prove it to them?” tommy asked, and immediately y/n’s gaze dropped. after receiving no response, he spoke, “.. y/n?”

“i’d rather not talk about it,” she said, looking back up at tommy seriously. “to this day it’s not something that im proud of, but things are different in war.”

tommy nodded. after a moment of tense silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “did you kill someone?”

y/n stood abruptly and tommy’s heart nearly dropped at the sight of the tears forming in her eyes. he had crossed a line. but not only had he done that.. y/n had killed someone.

“i-im sorry, y/n,” he spoke, shaking his head. “i shouldn’t have-”

“it’s fine, tommy,” she whispered, wiping at the tears in her eyes. she quickly spoke, “let’s take the afternoon off, alright?”

he nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. “alright.” 

he watched y/n sighed, dropping her hands tensely back to her sides as she voiced, “go relax.” she gave him one final nod before leaving the kitchen. he cringed when he heard her bedroom door whip shut, sighing as he looked to the empty kitchen surrounding him. 

technoblade, dream, and wilbur were all in love with y/n. or at least, had once been, and enough so that a war broke out for her heart. but as tommy considered what he had heard from y/n, he began to realize that the war may have began over y/n, but the boys became so blinded by their competition between each other that they allowed that love to turn to possession.

tag list <3 @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch @amibismexy @keiarma @akaichi-blog @runningoffofcaffeine @nonetookind @aquilla-favonia @feverish-dove @izuruamme @weeb-bb @bialin @justachillbisexual @kiritokunuwu @natalie-is-a-wall @woman-soot @boyleanti @nostalgic-writes @ahmya-4 @cryinqclouqs @littleliv5 @weeb-bb @truthdaze @dusky-purple-black @sadassflatass @dreamyteam​ @edgy-jim​ comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Mine (Alec Volturi x Reader)

WARNING: GORE!

You had to stay clear. Heidi was bringing in the tours and Demetri was around to make sure all would run smoothly, no one being left behind. Whilst you could only smile at a few of the tourists who locked eyes with you. You figured it wouldn't hurt, they'd go one way and you'd go the other, completely clear of what would happen next. Suddenly you heard your name. 

The voice was familiar but before you could recall who it was, they stepped out of the line of tourists, walking up to you with a smile. You felt your stomach drop. It was your ex boyfriend. Heidi and Demetri both looked at him but said nothing. "Well I'll be damned, I never thought I'd see you here." Your ex smiled. "It's good to see you." You said politely. Although you found it difficult to mask your unease. "Do you work here?" He asked. "Yeah." You nodded. "How have you been?" It was clear he was determined to get a conversation to you reluctantly gave in. "I've been good. Working mostly." You smiled gesturing to the room. "How have you been?" “I've been great. Travelling with friends. Partying. You know me." He winked. You hummed in 'amusement'. 

"Well hello there." Heidi glided up to you both. Your ex looked her up and down and smirked. "Hey." "(Y/N)'s considered new around her and doesn't know anyone." Heidi smiled, pulling you into her side. She rubbed your arm slightly. Although you were uncertain if that was her way to say she had your back. "So who's your friend?" She smiled wider, showing her teeth. "Oh he isn't my-" You began but your ex interrupted. "I'm an old friend. (Y/N) and I have quite a history together." He replied sending you a teasing flirtatious smile. "This is my ex boyfriend." You finished. "Oh I see. Well, you only have a couple of minutes, the tour is about to start and you..." She lightly tapped your nose with her free arm. "...have to get back to work." She broke away but kept at a close distance. Supposedly not paying attention anymore but you knew she was keeping close for you. 

"How long have you been here?" Your ex asked. "I've been here for nearly a year now."  "Wow. No one told me you'd left. Your mum told me when I went looking for you but she had no idea where you went. She said you had just up and left." You wanted to kick yourself and groan. This wasn't going to be easy. "Why...why did you speak to my mum?" You asked. "I was looking for you. I went to your house but your mum said you had been gone for months." "Yeah, I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I needed the space and time to build a new life here. My...my life back there was pretty much ruined." Thanks to him. "Ah, yes, that wasn't my finest moment." He said quieter. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. The way I see it, it would have been worse if I stayed." "In my eyes, the worst thing I've ever done is what I did to you." He responded. You were certain that your ex had cheated on you. If he hadn't then it would be a matter of waiting until he did. Waiting for your heartbreak. Not to mention he wasn't exactly apologetic for the flirting with others, and generally tiptoeing the line of cheating. 

When you ended things with him, he was determined to ruin your reputation with rumours about you such as being controlling. You saw the storm he was itching to give you. So you figured if you left, you'd be rid of him and any damage he caused, as well as he'd have no choice but to pick someone else or be his own downfall thanks to that oncoming storm. 

You shrugged. "Hey...can we talk? A little more privately?" He asked softly. "I don't think I can. I really need to get back to work-" "It'll only be just a minute." He said quickly. "Alright everyone, the tour is starting, if you could all please stick together and not wander. This place is very big and who knows if we'll find you again!" Heidi's voice rang out. The last sentence received a couple of chuckles. "Enjoy the tour. It was nice to see you again." You took a step back. "Please, it's important." He said hurriedly. You didn't know how to answer.  "One moment everyone!" Heidi smiled brightly as Demetri placed a hand on her back and guided her towards the corner in hushed chatter. 

"Make it quick." You said flatly. "I've been thinking about us. How we left things and I've really missed you." You sighed. "I know- I know we had our issues but if we try we can work through them." "No. I think the past is in the past and I want to leave it there." You responded. "If you didn't care you wouldn't have left everything behind." He said. "You know, I have more reasons to leave than you making up stories about me whilst you play around with others feelings." You frowned slightly. "I don't blame you." He answered. "I don't care and I don't need your validation. You made your choices and I made mine."  "You're just not thinking straight. You left your family. They don't even know where you are." He said. "That is none of your business." You said firmly. "Would you stop acting so entitled and being overdramatic and listen to me? It's no wonder we broke up. You do this every time!" 

"Excuse me, I think that's enough now." Demetri interrupted calmly. "The tour is about to start." "Buddy... you're really not involved in this and we're having a conversation so mind your business." Your ex said through gritted teeth. Before Demetri could respond, you jumped to his defence. "Don't speak to him like that! You can speak to me like that but don't speak to him like that!" "No, he can't speak to you that way." Heidi said, sending him a pointed gaze. Her hands on her hips. Your ex looked at her. Knowing him, he wanted to snap at her like he had Demetri but as soon as his eyes landed on her, they softened and he said nothing. He wore the same look he had back then. "You know that's why I'd get to angry with you." You said softly. "You always tried to convince me that I was crazy but even now, you have a wandering eye." "What? You'd want me to blind myself? Is that what would make you happy?" He said with snark and you didn't respond. Demetri nodded to Heidi . "Are we done here?" You asked him. "No." Your ex said flatly. You sighed before turning to Heidi. She was about to speak up but you cut her off. "It's okay Heidi. I can handle this." "You make it sound like I'm the problem here." Your ex frowned. "If your colleagues didn't hover around you then perhaps we wouldn't be disagreeing right now." "It's alright, Heidi." Demetri said as he put a hand on her shoulder. "You go ahead with the group. I'll make sure he catches up." Heidi thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Very well." With a flick of her hair she moved towards the front of the group. "As I said everyone! Stay together!" She began to walk down the corridor, heading towards the throne room. 

You knew at this point your ex was just shutting down. He knew that wasn't what you meant but everything he'd say from that moment forward was out of pure spite. "You do this every time!" He said in anger. "I don't want to fight with you! I'm trying to talk to you." "There's nothing to talk about. What you and I had is over." "No, it's not." He responded quickly and confidently. "You can't do that. You can't just speak to me like we just shared a ride home." He said, stepping closer. "You and I are more than that, we always have been." "We aren't anything. I've moved on and I'm happy." You responded, standing your ground. "Moved on?" He laughed. "No. No, I don't believe that. You're still standing here and we both know that when you're done with someone that you don't give them the time of day." "I'm trying to be civil and not make a scene." He laughed again, completely convinced. "Alright. Where is my replacement then, hm? Is it him?" Your ex nodded behind him towards Demetri. "No and I don't want you meeting him." You folded your arms. "Or I won't because you're lying." Your ex smirked. "You don't have to be like this babe. We can start again. We can have that happy life together we talked about. Laugh about all of this later. You and I were solid and we can be like that again." You shook your head. "No. I already told you I'm with someone else." "And do they love you like I do?" He asked. You paused. You knew Alec loved you. He just didn't tell it or show it all the time. Not in the way your previous relationships had. Alec wasn't like other people and sometimes that had challenges but you'd take that. You'd rather someone loved you and barely told you rather than someone constantly telling you they loved you merely because they loved the idea of you and wanted to keep you around. "My guess is that he loves me more." You answered quietly. It had been a long time since you had to deal with how your ex was treating you and you couldn't help but wonder if you were losing. Your ex hummed in amusement. "You tell yourself that a lot, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. Well let me tell you babe, loving you is easy." He moved closer, his voice lowering. "I promise you, I loved you more than anyone ever has and I still do. You're hurt. I get that. I hurt you but I can fix it just as easily. Just as easily as you light up my world with that beautiful face of yours. Come on, you and me." He took your arms and you shook your head. "No." You said quickly. Demetri stepped forward but you shook your head at him. "It's fine, Demetri. I can handle this." You said hurriedly. "In fact, don't you have somewhere else to be?" Your ex sneered at Demetri behind him. His grip on you tightened. "Stop it. You're getting angry at him for no reason." You said hurriedly. "Yes, I am because this dude doesn't know when to take a hint and clear off." Your ex said sharply. Demetri's eyes narrowed on your ex before turning on his heel and briskly heading down the corridors, the same way the rest of the tourists had. 

"Come on, you and me." Your ex said quieter and softly. "We had amazing times together and we should never have ended things the way we did." "You're not listening to me. It is over." You emphasized. "No, it's not." He said simply. Before you could pull back, your ex pulled you in by your arms and kissed you. You immediately pulled your head away. "You can't do that!" You cried out. However you cry was drowned out by a very loud scream of rage. 

Alec was in front of you both in moments and looked absolutely livid. With inhuman speed he grabbed your ex, throwing him to the ground. Alec was moving so fast that you couldn't see anything but a blur. Your ex screamed in terror as Alec dragged him by the legs, down a different corridor behind you. "Alec!?" You cried out but before you could move, Demetri held you back as Felix and Jane stepped around you, heading after Alec. Demetri forcibly made you turn in the other direction. 

You thought he was taking you to the throne room but her turned a sharp corner and instead led you to the kitchen. You could only say Demetri's name, unable to form a coherent sentence. You wanted to ask him a million questions but nothing came to mind. "Your arms..." Demetri said quickly closing the gap between you to inspect your arms. You looked down to see red scratches down your fore arms. "Do these hurt?" He asked. 

Now that you were aware of them, you acknowledged the burning sensation they left but you weren't even remotely concerned about that. You were worried about Alec. "No!" You said hurriedly. "I'm more concerned about Alec. He was- where did he go? What just happened!?" Demetri didn't answer, simply staring into your eyes. "Let us deal with this, understand the situation better so I can be accurate, alright? Just, let me take you to his room and be patient.” You let him, taking a glass of water with you for Demetri's peace of mind. 

Jane turned around to see Demetri approaching. "How bad is it?" He asked. Alec's screams of rage and the sound of breaking furniture very loud despite the door being shut. "Bad." Felix responded. "The human is basically soup in there." "The humans final minutes were nothing less of excruciating." Jane smiled darkly. "Is the human in pieces?" Demetri said in somewhat horror. Not because he suddenly had a concern for humans. More so because humans are basically bags of fluid and if your ex had been even slightly ripped open, blood and everything else would utterly destroy the very old carpets, rugs and walls. Not to mention Alec was currently destroying everything in sight. "Friend, I'm going to say this as delicately as I can." Felix said to Demetri. "That human was very much alive when Alec ripped him apparent and tore out his organs. He then threw the organs all over the room and has since been stamping on every bone. That human is a puddle of mush and then rest of him is across the room." "How lovely..." Demetri trailed off. Although he wasn't surprised. This was Alec after all. "He needs to calm down soon. (Y/N) is worried about him." "They'll need to wait." Jane responded flatly. "It's been a long time since he's been this angry." Jane spoke of it like talking about the weather and not that her brother was completely destroying a room whilst creating a gruesome scene. "I'm surprised you're not in there and helping him." Felix said to Jane. "He wouldn't let me get close. He wanted the human to himself." Jane smiled proudly as she thought fondly of her brother. "That human was in just as much pain if I got to him." Felix blinked. "Alright, what's the plan?" "You and I go to (Y/N) and explain the situation, then we go and inform Aro. Jane will stay here with Alec until he calms down. Jane, do not let him go to his room afterwards, (Y/N) is in there and they can't see him like that." Demetri said and Jane nodded as Felix moved towards Demetri. 

"Okay you're telling me not to worry but now there are two of you and you won't tell me what's happening." Your eyes narrowed on the two. "It's complicated and we don't know how to explain without crossing a line." Demetri responded. "Wait, Demetri, can we even tell them? Is it our place to tell?" Felix asked. "I don't think we have much of a choice. Do you think Alec will?" Demetri turned to Felix. You looked between the two. "If you don't tell me what's going on then I will scream." You warned them. The two simply looked at you, seemingly unconvinced that you would. You inhaled a deep breath. "Wait! Wait, hold on little human!" Felix said quickly raising his arms. "We'll tell you just don't do that." Demetri said quickly. Neither of the two wanted to find out what you screaming would do when Alec is already off the rails. It could be those two next for all they knew if you did. 

Before Felix could talk, Demetri cut him off. "I'll tell them. You are awful at breaking news to anyone." Felix huffed, annoyed he couldn't but at the same time slightly offended with the lack of faith his friend had in him. Although Felix knew his friend was right. He really was the worst at that. "You know that Alec can be temperamental and is very driven by his emotions when he wants to be." Demetri began. "You also know that sometimes be can be so aggravated that he has..." Demetri trailed off. "Tantrums." Felix said flatly. Demetri sent him a pointed look. "What else can you call this? We'll be here all day if we want to look at this with rose tinted glasses. It's tantrums." Felix continued in his defence and Demetri sighed. "Just as Jane does. You know of this but haven't ever experienced it for yourself. This is one of those times. Alec has disposed of the human and is currently on a uncontrollable rampage of destruction. All we can do is wait for him to calm on his own." "Why...why has this provoked such a reaction?" You asked. "Well-" Demetri was cut off again by Felix. "Because the twins do this every time they don't get their own way or something happens they don't like... usually the first one." "Felix!" Demetri scolded him. "It's true! (Y/N) lives here, they might as well know that when the twins don't get what they want, this is what happens!" Felix said to defend himself again. "What I was going to say is," Demetri said as he narrowed his eyes on Felix in warning. "Alec is very... protective of you." "Yeah but also possessive." Felix interrupted again. "Felix, I swear-" "I'm just telling the truth!" Demetri quietly growled in slight frustration. "Alec doesn't really know how to channel his emotions and his past has very much to do with that. He can't express himself correctly and so sometimes the twins have all this pent up emotion that they don't know what to do with it and...this happens." You blinked. "I can't do anything to help him?" "Darling, there is no reasoning with Alec right now in these states. It's best you leave him be and when he's ready he'll come to you." You sighed sitting on Alec's bed. "Might I speak with you about something for a moment? Something that has caused some concern?" Demetri asked. You nodded. "What's up?" You asked quietly. Demetri moved closer to you. "The way that human spoke to you. You know that isn't okay, right?" Demetri asked. You could see concern matching in both Felix and Demetri's eyes. "No one who ever claims to love you should ever treat you like that. You know that, don't you?" You nodded slowly. "I know." You said quietly. "I couldn't make excuses for him after some time and I know that when someone treats you like that... it'll only get worse. So I left. I told myself I deserved better and that I'd never go back." "Right on." Felix smirked softly from the doorway. "Did Alec hear?" You asked. Slowly, Demetri nodded. “He heard the human doubting him, shall we say? Although he was under control. He was approaching when I left when the human kissed you, Alec lost control.” You recalled the rage filled scream that rang through your ears. That must have been Alec. "Do you think he was worried? That I'd go back?" You asked. Demetri thought about it for a moment. "I think he doubts himself. How deserving he is of you. That being said, he'd hold you to him regardless." Demetri cracked a smile and you couldn't help but giggle. That sounded like Alec. "As I said, he's protective of you. You mean everything to him and when someone disrespects you. He will take that very personally." Demetri assured you before stepping back. "Give him some time. Maybe a couple of hours. He'll calm down and come back to you." "What did he do to him? My ex?" You asked. "I think it best that you don't think about that. It's better if you don't know." Demetri responded. 

Once Demetri closed Alec's door, Felix let out a sigh of relief. "They nearly screamed when we didn't tell them. Can you imagine if Alec heard them scream right now in this state? You and I would be done for!" "Now we'll be screaming next if the twins over heard what you said about them." Demetri's eyes narrowed. "We'll both get Jane's gift for that." "It was nothing but the truth!" Felix said. Demetri sighed, walking with more purpose. "(Y/N) is with us now, they'd figure that out eventually! Demetri, don't walk away from me!" Felix strode after his friend. 

After an hour of worrying, Alec returned to his room. He stood in his open door way, staring you down. "Are you okay?" You asked before you could even think. "You shouldn't have seen that." He said lowly. "Alec..." You trailed off with worry. After a moment of staring you down, he marched towards you. 

Alec collided with you so hard that you fell back upon his bed. His lips were on yours before you knew it as he climbed further on top of you. You pulled back and hurriedly said his name before he moved back in for another kiss. "Alec! Alec!" You said hurriedly, taking his face into your hands. His eyes were a deep red, an improvement from the pitch black ones that met your gaze before but it was clear that Alec was still very much upset, even as his control was gradually returning. "Are you okay?" You asked. Alec swallowed, his stare intense. "Sweetheart, everything is okay." You said weakly, feeling tears begin to build in your throat. "You're the only one that matters." You assured him, stroking his cheek his your thumb. 

You needed him to be sure that only Alec mattered to you. Unable to stand even the thought that Alec doubted that. Alec caught sight of your arm and a quiet sound that resembled a whine escaped him. The red marks that streaked down from your elbow to your wrist. Alec began to grow irate, unable to tear his eyes from your arm as he immediately pulled back from you and your hold to grasp your arm. You knew Alec was trying to figure out if he had done that but you couldn't tell him. You didn't know if it had been Alec or your ex when Alec grabbed him with such speed, tearing him from you. 

"It's okay." You said to him softly. "I-I didn't even feel it. It was so quick and with everything going on, I didn't even realise what had happened." "Does it hurt?" Alec asked. His voice made it clear that he was grasping at every straw of control he had. All the while his voice tone was slightly higher, almost like whine he was trying to hold back. "It stings a little every now and then but it's honestly just a scratch." That Alec knew. There wasn't any bleeding or even a break of the skin. However that didn't make him any happier about the situation. He exhaled and you barely heard the small whine before Alec pulled your arm to his cold lips, pressing kisses against the scratch. "I'm more concerned about you and if you're okay." You said to him. Whilst you had been told about how angry Alec could get, this had been the first time you had ever witnessed it. Alec's gaze met yours once more. "Kiss me." He said lowly before pressing his lips against yours.  You returned the kiss, without any further questions. When he was ready and if he wanted to, he'd say what's on his mind. "Come here." You said to him quietly and he leaned back slightly, allowing you to move up to the pillows on his bed. He followed and you pulled him into your chest.  "I'm not going anywhere." You whispered as Alec's eyes fluttered shut, surrounded my your scent. One hand played with his hair, the other across his back. Alec wrapped his own arms around you sliding under your back. Every so often he'd squeeze you that little bit closer to him.

[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)

[alrightberries]

our sorry little hearts

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.6k

❈ summary: Levi hasn’t seen your traitorous Eldian face in years.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. war. mentions of blood, death, and violence.

a/n: you’ve heard of enemies to lovers, now get ready for... lovers to enemies. this takes place during the liberio invasion aka S4 E6. based on a love like war by all time low.

(also don’t tell anyone but this is me lowkey warming up after not writing for so long)

There’s something oddly nostalgic about seeing you again on the battlefield.

Levi recognizes your usual battle stance; feet a shoulder’s width apart and hands tightly clutching the handles of your sheathed blades. You’re wearing the scouting regiment’s outdated white uniform, green cape hiding the leather straps your missing brown jacket usually would. He’s not surprised you’re not wearing your wings of freedom jacket, though; he was, after all, the one who sliced it in half during your escape with Zeke on the Cart Titan’s back. He hasn’t seen it, but he’s positive that a long scar runs down the length of your spine.

“Levi,” he hears you murmur, and he pretends that his heart doesn’t ache after hearing his name slip from your lips for the first time in four years. “I—... Levi,”

He feels his chest tighten. You still look as beautiful as he remembers you to be, and the fact that you still take his breath away is something he hates. It’s been a long while since he last stood on a battlefield with you. Only this time, there were no trees to swing from or titans to kill; no reassuring squeezes on the shoulder or cheeky kisses when no one was looking; no small smiles or stolen glances across the field as your horses galloped through Titan Country. No— this time, you wore different colors and fought on opposing sides.

“Levi, talk to me,” your tone is airy, said in what seemed to be a mixture of built up anticipation and disbelief. But there was something in your voice— something he couldn’t quite place. Was it relief? Longing, perhaps? Maybe even regret. But Levi pushes those thoughts aside in favor of gritting his teeth and giving his traitorous wife a stone cold stare. “Levi, talk to me, please.”

He refuses to reply. His hands are shaking from how hard he was gripping the handles of his blades, and he swears his heart was going to burst out of his untrimmed chest from how loudly it beat at his ribcage. There are about a million and one emotions swirling around his head— betrayal. anger. sadness. melancholy.

And he doesn’t know which one takes over him when he charges at you full speed.

There’s a grunt followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal, and Levi’s not surprised to see that your reflexes are still as sharp as they were before. His own cape whips in the wind when he turns to land another strike. But then he hears sound of your hooks digging into bricks, and he’s quick to take your little fight to the air in pursuit of you.

He knows he has to be at the plaza to save Eren’s ass but he also knows that he had at least seven minutes before he had to go. He’ll make this quick.

“Levi,” he hears you call out. You’ve led him further away from the plaza— maybe intentionally or unintentionally, he doesn’t know— and he’s only now realizing that you both stood on the side of a building, the hooks on your gears the only thing keeping you up. “My love—-”

“—don’t call me that,” his heart twitches and he sneers. It’s the first thing he’s said to you in years and god did you miss his voice, miss him in general. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that,”

“Levi,” you breathe, but the deep growl that escapes his lips is enough for your words to die in your throat.

“Stop,” he says. “You’ve lost the right to speak my name; you’ve lost the right to wear that cape,” his eyes land on the silver chain you wore around your neck, a gold ring hanging in the middle. It matched the one he had back home, the one he secretly held at night and kissed sorrowfully when he felt like breaking down. His voice is quieter, almost pained as he speaks, “you’ve lost the right to wear that ring. You’ve lost the right to even look me in the eye after what you’ve done.”

His words sting and your throat tightens when you once again remember the look of pure and utter betrayal in his eyes when you confessed you were a spy on behalf of the Marleyan government. The way he froze, hoping you were lying; yet the tears running down your cheeks and the apologies that slipped from your lips as you got down on your knees and begged him for forgiveness left no room for contest.

“Levi, we don’t have to fight, please just hear me out. I’m still the wife you loved—-“

“No,” he cuts you off. “My wife is gone. She died in the battle for Shiganshina.” your lip quivers, and he continues to speak. “You? You’re an enemy. You’re as good as dead to me.”

Your words once again die on your tongue when he charges at you, and you just barely manage to leap away. The edge of his blade scrapes against your thigh, and blood paints your trousers red when your feet land on the cobblestone streets.

Every attempt you make after, any attempts at conversation is silenced with a swift swing of Levi’s blades, almost as if he were seeking catharsis through violence.

You grit your teeth. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

His silence and steely glare is all the answer you need, and you sigh. Your stance shifts, and the grip on your blades changes; you were finally taking an offensive stance, Levi notices. Blocking his blows wouldn’t be enough— you couldn’t reason with him no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t win with just defense. You had to outsmart him; you had to win. You had to.

“I’m sorry, levi, but losing isn’t an option for me. Not this time,” you murmur.

You didn’t want to fight him, he could see it in your eyes. But you were fighting for something, for someone more important than him. Your eyes— the first things he fell in love with, the ones that were usually fiery and full of life— are soulless, almost solemn when he sees you run at him full speed, and Levi pushes down the hurt he felt at the thought of you loving another as he charges at you too.

A tear silently falls down your cheek. You loved levi, but you loved him more. You were fighting for him, and he was waiting for you back at home.

There’s a grey little building in the Liberio Intermittent Zone, somewhere between the gates and the plaza. The gunshots and explosions just barely reach the drab building, and the smoke rising into the air is the only thing visible to the naked eye of the chaos unfolding at the plaza.

A Marleyan soldier, donned in white and war medals, stands in front of an open window. She’s got binoculars in her hands, and she peeks through the eye piece to watch as two figures fight. Their capes create shadows of black where they flutter, and their silver blades gleam in the moonlight.

She smirks. Your negotiation failed, just like she said it would, and now you had no choice but to fight to the death.

Good, she thinks, that Eldian scum’s doing her end of the bargain.

She leans back and a satisfied hum leaves her lips. She turns to look at the little boy, no more than four years old, sat on the bed. The red Eldian arm band clasped around his arm brings a grimace to the soldier’s face. She can’t believe she got stuck with babysitting some lowlife scum.

“Is mommy doing well?” he asks timidly. He doesn’t even know that you were out there about to murder a man, but the kid was smart; he at least knew your job carried a heavy weight.

“For now,” she replies. The boy’s jet black hair bounces slightly as he nods, and his slanted eyes are downcast, staring at the floor. His silvery grey orbs dare not make contact with hers.

The boy looked almost nothing like you— if anything, she was sure he looked to be the spitting image of his unknown father. Strong genes, the father must’ve had.

She finds amusement in how tense the boy was around her; at least his whore of a mother had the decency to teach the kid his place in the world. He was worse than an Eldian, the lowest of the low— he was half Paradis demon. He should’ve never been born. They should’ve beaten you to death along with your unborn child like she’d suggested when you came back from Paradis knocked up.

“You can kill me, but spare my baby, please.” she remembers you begging. “I didn’t even know i was pregnant. Not even the father knows.”

Still, maybe it was a good choice to keep both you and the demon child alive. As much as she hated to admit it, you were a skilled soldier— one of the best they’ve ever had. Threatening your life meant nothing to you, but threatening your child’s? All they had to do was suggest it, and you’d follow their commands like an obedient dog chasing after a dangling treat.

“When’s mommy going to come home?” the boy suddenly asks.

“Soon,” she replies, eyes once again gazing through her binoculars. “If your mother does her job well, she’ll be back soon.” There’s a telephone beside the soldier, ready to make the call should you ever stop fighting. A sniper awaits her signal.

“If she doesn’t... well,” she laughs. The door to the small room you called home is locked, and the loaded gun hidden in the soldier’s pocket is a weight she’s familiar with. “Do you believe in god?”

“No,” the boy shakes his head. “Who’s that?”

“Tell you what, kid. if your mother fucks this up, i’ll personally see to it that you meet him soon enough.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[pillow-anime-talk]

missed shot.

synopsis: Boys lose a point when they unexpectedly see you.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships & crush culture; comedy; fluff; a little bit of romance; boys are simps for you and you are a huge fan of them!; sfw

includes: female reader ft. taiga kagami, ryouta kise, tatsuya himuro, kotarou hayama, shouichi imayoshi & midorima shintarou {knb}

— TAIGA

↘ You are a bit late, but you arrived at the Seirin vs. Josei game safe and sound! You also took a seat upstairs to get a better view of the all players.

↘ You arrived just as Kiyoshi knocked the ball from his opponent’s hand and passed it to Izuki. You immediately crossed your fingers when the ball was passed to Kuroko and then to Kagami. You grinned when the tall basketball player jumped high to dunk.

↘ “Kagami-kun! Win it!” You screamed as loud as you could, waving your arms to cheer for him even better.

↘ Anyway, because of your voice echoing around the gym, Taiga lost his concentration for a moment and at the same time found you at the stands.

↘ His heart was beating much faster than it should, and a big smile appeared on his face, seeing that the girl with he is in love with came to support him.

↘ Unfortunately, his inattention resulted in hitting the hoop and losing the ball. Also a bit of laughter from you spread around the gym, making his cheeks as red as his hair and eyes.

↘ “S-Sorry!” He shouted to the rest of the team, then looked back at you. “The next throw will be successful! I p-promise!”

— RYOUTA

↘ You came on Kise’s matches almost always as his best and only female friend. Unfortunately, you had to go to the dentist that day, so you came a bit late for the Winter Cup match between Kaijou High and Fukuda Sougou Academy.

↘ Luckily, your friend kept you a free seat in the first stand until then, so you could watch the last quarter.

↘ “Ryouta! Don’t give up, you can win this game with the team!” Your scream reverberated between the quieter conversations that commented on the point difference between the players.

↘ Your happy and supporting voice immediately reached the blonde boy who was copying Aomine’s moves.

↘ However, as it is easy to guess, instead of dunk the ball, he withdrew his hands and once again he stopped on the floor looking for your figure.

↘ As soon as he found you, he waved his hand at you and then spun the ball on his finger, smiling widely. “This point is dedicated to you, Y/Ncchi! Just look at me and only me!”

↘ This time, Kise didn’t flinch from the perfect dunk that you cheered loudly at.

— TATSUYA

↘ Your super popular boyfriend has a basketball training with the rest of the Yosen team, and you, as a good girlfriend, came to support him and take him to sushi after training.

↘ You entered the gym very quietly, immediately walking up to trainer Araka and greeting her with soft smile. The woman nodded at you and asked if you finished class and if you came for Himuro. Of course, you confirmed her questions right away, laughing under your breath and saying that you would take him on a date after training. (Yosen coach had a relationship with you like a big sister and a little sister, so she was very eager to talk with you about random things.)

↘ “... Tatsuya!” You shouted to the jumping boy who was just taking his ‘mirage shot’ above another player. The seventeen-year-old glanced in your direction and you waved to him softly. “We’ll go on a date after your training, so you’d better kick everyone’s ass, Tatsu!” You added in an amused tone to which even Masako reacted with laughter.

↘ Of course, your presence, noticed by the black-haired student, made him throw the ball very imprecise so the consequence was didn’t score the desired three points.

↘ “Muro-chin, focus, please...” Murasakibara muttered at his friend and the other snorted under his breath.

↘ “I’ll get another one. Pass me the next ball.” He replied low, then looked at you again, waving you back.

— KOTAROU

↘ You just arrived at the sports hall to support your boyfriend during the match between Rakuzan and Shuutoku. Of course you had with you a cute banner in your boyfriend’s team colors and with his name, which you quickly took out of your black, leather bag.

↘ A few minutes passed before a foreign voice announced a ten-minute warm-up for both teams. You smiled warmly seeing your man bursting with energy.

↘ “Hey, Kotarou-kun!” You screamed, immediately meeting his insane gaze. “Give your best, baby!”

↘ “Of course, I will!” He answered you just as loudly. “Look at this, Y/N-chan!” He added with a big smile, preparing to throw...

↘ ... which he missed. Oof.

↘ Akashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The rest of the team and you too.

↘ “OHHHH, YES. I GET IT, BOYS. LOOK THIS TIME, Y/N-CHAN! IT’S FOR YOU. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!”

↘ This time he hit perfectly, which is why you held your banner high, laughing happily.

— SHOUICHI

↘ Imayoshi decided to stay a bit longer on training and practice the three-point shooting. The gym was empty, so he had time to himself.

↘ You, on the other hand, passed Ryou in the school corridor, whom you warmly greeted and asked where Shouichi was. The shy sixteen-year-old immediately squeaked that the shooter decided to stay in the hall longer than everyone else.

↘ That’s why you went to the mentioned place as quickly as possible and very quietly you entered the big building, watching the tall basketball player aim at the hoop.

↘ During the throw you coughed softly and smiled. “Shou-kun when you will done with practice, maybe we’ll come to our houses together?” You spoke tenderly, catching the brunet’s attention.

↘ A second later, the ball bounced off the ring after a while and fell to the ground without scoring a point. The captain hissed and looked at your figure again, sighing.

↘ “Y/N.” He grumble with a smile and you walk slowly towards him, adjusting the bag full of books. “Yes, I’d love to come back with you. Sit down and don’t bother me for another half hour, thanks.” He added gently, looking away from your cute, pouty face.

↘ “Are you blushing?” You asked, smiling. “Don’t worry Shouichi, I won’t tell anyone about this missed shot, I promise.” You added, showing thumbs up.

↘ The problem is that the boy didn’t blush because of a missed throw, but because you, his crush, saw it.

— SHINTAROU

↘ Your boyfriend was just during in the first match of the Winter Cup final, and of course you wanted to surprise him, although the green head forbade you to come.

↘ You took one of the few free seats in the nearest stand and starts looked for Midorima. The boy was just aiming for a basket from halfway the court, and you smiled at it.

↘ You rarely saw your boyfriend play the basketball, so you were counting on a good and fair game.

↘ Nevertheless, you wanted to let Shintarou know that you are here for him.

↘ “Honey! Win it! I love you so much!” You screamed out loud, in the middle of a throw who...

↘ ... barely fell into the basket, making the entire Shuutoku team inhale loudly into their lungs. Midorima felt a unpleasant chills run down his spine as he looked in your direction. You waved at him and he adjusted his glasses, sighing under his nose.

↘ The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile, and he nodded, taking the lead of 40 points for his team (and for you, cute) during the game.

↘ Then, of course, he scolded you, telling you not to come on his matches again because you distracted him, but you couldn’t promise that.

[plutodexay]

Peter Parker imagine

This idea was all over the place word count wise and my brain was very weird when I wrote it but I think its adorable. Also I can’t think of a title for the life of me sorry

This can be read as any Peter parker you want but just know my mind was filled with Andrew Garfield the entire time

(1351)

It was late, the moon was rising as the streets were silent with the occasional passing car roaring by as if speed limits don’t apply past midnight. That was the standard for this time of night, I think. This was not my usual midnight routine, normally I would be in bed or on the phone, not walking, by myself, at midnight, to my boyfriends house. 

Peter’s place was only a thirty minute walk from mine, and it was almost always him coming over to mine. But he wasn’t answering his phone for the past few hours without saying goodnight, and he always says goodnight. He’s the one who makes sure its said, and I don’t think there has been a day I’ve known him where he fell asleep before me, so all of this was leading me to freak out.  More than likely he would freak out because of me walking over here alone, but at this point I didn’t care. 

I was only a few minutes into my walk when I saw the lights flicker in a building on my path, quickly after that a slam was heard inside the place. Stupidly, I walked closer trying to see what was going on, before I made eye contact with someone inside the building. They just stared at me while crashes continued happening around them.

I felt stuck, my eyes were glued to theirs, my heart was racing so fast I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Their head was turning left to right as the lights started flickering once again, and flashes of red and blue started appearing behind them. Arm raising they tried to hit whatever was flying around them, yet every movement only resulted in more flashing before eventually the flash of red knocked him over, shaking out of whatever trace I had been stuck in I started running, it took me a second to remember which way was Peters before I ran with everything I had in me. I heard a few more crashes before I ran into something blocking my way and falling down.

“Are you alright?” A panicked yet familiar voice rang out, looking up at them I noticed it was the flash of red I saw before. There were a few scrapes and cuts covering his body, in a panic I looked back towards the building only to see no movement inside and the lights had stopped flickering. Looking up at the face before me is when I saw the mask.

“You’re spiderman” My voice came out in a whispered tone, cracking towards the end. They held their hand out towards me, motioning me to grab it. Doing so the masked person pulled me up ever so carefully. I could feel their hand shaking under the fabric of the suit, their whole body read panicked and I swore I heard their breath stutter for a moment. 

They gave me a slight nod before looking me all over, presumably checking for any signs of injuries similar to the ones they had. 

“What are you doing out this late” Their voice came out in a hushed tone, hand still holding mine and shaking while looking me straight in the eyes, almost as if they were personally concerned. 

“I was walking to my boyfriends, he wasn’t answering so I wanted to make sure he was okay” I rushed out, the adrenaline of the entire past few minutes catching up to me. 

Sirens started sounding off past the building, slowly getting louder and louder the longer we stood there. It wasn’t until the lights of the cars started to flash near us that the stare down we were somehow doing ended. 

“Well alright then” They coughed all while making their voice obviously deeper than it was. “Just get there safe” Continuing to try and push the fake voice on me, they nodded stiffly before walking past me. I followed their path for a moment until they headed down an alley and the lights got even brighter. 

Once again I started running towards Peter’s as the sirens got quieter behind me. I kept running until I got to the outside of his apartment building. Rushing inside I pushed the elevator button practically non stop until the thing finally opened. I could still feel my heart racing while I tried to stand still in the elevator only to realize I had yet to press his floor button. 

Pacing back and forth as the elevator traveled up all I could think about was hugging Peter, and explaining to him all the chaos that just happened. What had happened though, was it a bank robbery? Some angry bank employees? The mafia? 

Thankfully the doors opened before my thought process could get even more insane, I stared at the open doors for a moment before rushing out of them as fast as I could. Nearly slamming my head on a wall as I turned the corner. Peter’s apartment was already unlocked as I opened the door with the knowledge of Aunt May not being home so I didn’t have to worry about waking her. Going up to Peter’s bedroom I knocked on the door as many times as I could before he opened the door, which was extremely quick, almost as if he had been standing right behind it. 

Looking up at him I noticed how tired he looked, the bags under his eyes were much darker than they normally are with how little sleep he gets. There was no small blush on his cheeks but rather just pale skin, paler than his already extremely pale skin. He was wearing an old sweater that practically fell off of him that he only wore when he was stressed. 

I felt all the adrenaline leave my body when I looked at him, normally he smiled whenever I pulled something similar to this but tonight was different. Hell, he looked like he’d just lived his worst nightmare. 

“What’s wrong?” The moment I spoke Peter cracked, lunging towards me he wrapped his arms around my torso as tight as he possibly could before burying his head into the crook of my neck. His chest was quickly rising and falling against my own as he continued to try and hold me harder. 

Getting over the initial shock of the hug, I shot my hands around him. One going around his back and the other reaching to run through his hair in a calming manor. My hand kept getting stuck in the mess which held more to how bad he felt, everything about him just seemed so panicked.

“Missed you” He mumbled into my neck after standing in silence for however long passed by, arms still impossibly tight around me. 

“I missed you too” I wanted to bring up how he was the one who didn’t answer my calls but ultimately decided against it given his state, and that he was hugging me so hard it simply hurt to talk to much. 

“Was scared you got hurt, heard sirens” He mumbled once again, but this time he brought his face out of my neck to look at me, his hand reaching up and gently cupping my face and his thumb moved back and forth over my cheekbone.

“I’m alright I promise” I smiled at him before leaning up to kiss him, our lips touching ever so softly before parting once again. 

We stayed staring at each other for a few moments before he moved his hand from my cheek to grab my own hand. Quickly he started pulling me towards his bed before falling onto it. Letting go of my hand, he stretched his arms out waiting for me to climb in between them. Laughing, I laid down in his arms and he wrapped the around me once again, kissing the top of my head whispering different affections over and over until soft snores started to leave his mouth. 

It didn’t even come to mind to ask how he knew I was near the bank, or heard the sirens when they were nowhere near his place

Tag list: @venxaax @somber-starlight-wasteland

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Place To Call Home: Dads

Summary: When the reader gets an offer to make some money on the side, things quickly evolve to Jensen learning about where some of the reader and TJ’s money has been going, namely TJ’s father. Jensen offers to help out but discovers that Rick might be up to something... 

Masterlist

Square: A Place To Call Home

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 7,600ish

Warnings: language, angst (so much family angst), minor injury

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo. This part takes place after the Halloween timestamp. Enjoy!

______

“Thank you, Barry,” you said as he left the office at the brewery. Your head was still up when your dad slipped inside and he shut the door. “What’s up?”

“There’s a talent scout out in the draft room,” he said.

“Fascinating,” you said, going back to reading over a contract with a new distributor.

“Y/N they’re here to see you.” You turned in your seat and stared at him, breaking out into a giggle. “I’m serious.”

“This is by far your worst prank yet.”

“You modeled some of the new merch last week? He’s here for you,” he said.

“To what, model?” you scoffed. “No thank you.”

“Well can you go tell him that because he was insisting on hearing it from you,” he said. You sighed and walked out front, a guy in a suit with no tie on sipping from a glass. He smiled when he saw your dad behind you. 

“Ms. Ackles,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s Mrs. Hanover,” you said with a friendly enough smile. 

“You’re clearly used to some hard negotiations.”

“I’m tougher than I look Mr…”

“Elbridge but please call me Dan.”

“What can I do for you today, Dan?” you asked. He walked out to a quieter spot by the railing, settling at one ot the standing tables.

“I work for a talent agency, Mrs. Hanover. We’ve worked with your father a few times when he was starting out,” he said, your dad giving a nod. “We’ve seen your modeling pictures and we’re very interested in you doing a shoot.”

“I appreciate the offer but my answer is no. I’m not a model or an actress or any of the things my parents are besides someone invested in this brewery,” you said.

“She is a tough cookie,” he said as he looked at your dad. “I’m assuming you told her nothing I told you.”

“You gotta sell it on your own,” he said.

“Y/N, we’d like you to be in a commercial with some other women. An underwear commercial.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a commercial for inclusivity for people with differences,” he said.

“He means the scar on your back, Y/N. From the accident,” said your dad.

“You’re exactly the kind of person we want included in the line. There’ll be a photo run of things too and-“

“Why exactly do you know I have a scar on my back?”

“Your Instagram. I assumed it was public knowledge.”

“Okay but it’s not even that big. Like it blends in. I’m boring. Get like, an amputee or a burn survivor. That’s inclusive. I’m average.”

“We have a vast array of women in the line including those types and all kinds of body types. But you’re...a brand name we could put to the project.”

“Brand name,” you said. He hummed and you laughed. “My dad? That’s a brand name, not me. Throw him in some underwear and I’m sure you’ll get all the attention you want.”

“Well we want you,” he said. He pulled out a business card and handed it over. “Our initial offer is on the back but we’re open to negotiations. Call us if you think you might be interested. Oh and the beer’s great.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking over the card. The guy had wandered off by the time you flipped it over.

“I told him you wouldn’t be interested,” said your dad, sipping from his bottle of water. You blinked at the card, your dad raising an eyebrow. “You’re not considering it are you?”

“Dad,” you said. You flipped the card around and showed it to him, water spitting out of his mouth.

“Hey, Dan,” he said, rushing back and waving him over. Dan smiled as he walked back, drink in his hand.

“I thought that’d-” said Dan before your dad got in his face. “Is there a problem?”

“What are you up to,” he said.

“Dad.”

“Y/N no one gets offered that much money off the street. No one. So I’m gonna ask again. What are you up to?” 

“It’s for a package deal. A photo shoot. A commercial. Ad sponsorship for three months bi-weekly on her social media accounts. We’d also like her to design the set for the commercial. There’s a time crunch of next week so we felt a hundred was a fair offer for that amount of work on short notice,” said Dan. “If she were simply modeling, we’d offer her twenty five but this is our biggest line of the year. You are more than welcome to come along every step of the way.”

“Dan I really do appreciate the offer but I’m not a model. I don’t even remember the last time I wore makeup. I will happily design a set and build if you like and maybe I can do the ad thing but I’m not a model like my parents. Can I talk to my dad for a second?”

He nodded and walked off a ways, your dad sighing.

“Maybe mom could do it or something? She’s done that stuff before,” you said.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. Go for the set design for sure. You’re good at it and I know you get to break back into your architecture skills for that. But the rest...once you get on that train you can’t get off.”

“Dad, people already know who I am. I have like...an obnoxious number of followers on my accounts and stuff. My most popular posts? Always about you. I’ve never been in the shadows.”

“I know but that’s different than you doing these things. If you start taking pictures in underwear, you’re gonna attract at least a few weirdos and most of them are harmless but maybe some aren’t and there is a reason that Uncle Cliff still hangs out with me at certain times.”

“It’s a hundred thousand dollars. TJ and I could pay off the lawyer fees for Allie’s adoption finally,” you said. “We could get our mortgage payment down.”

“You’ve never cared about money,” he said. You pursed your lips and he narrowed his eyes. “Are things tight?”

“Dad.”

“Are they?”

“I don’t ask about your finances.”

“I sat down with both you and TJ when you bought the house and even with the renovation costs, your monthly payment was very affordable. Allie’s adoption should have been paid off months ago.”

“Do you stalk our spending now or what?” you shot back.

“Well you haven’t bought a new car or any big expenses. Where’s the money going?” he asked.

“I’ll take the set design and leave it at that,” you said. You brushed past him and over to Dan. 

Thirty minutes later you had a signed contract and were back in your office, your dad grumbling as he walked inside.

“I’m busy,” you said.

“Where’s the money going, Y/N?”

“TJ and I make very good money,” you said, typing up an email. He leaned over the desk and narrowed his eyes. “I took the set design only for twenty. Happy?”

“Why do you need twenty thousand dollars?”

“Coming from the guy who made how much fucking money for a single freaking episode? At least I’m not slutting out my face,” you said. He stood back and slammed the door shut on his way out. You sighed and got up, finding him out back, splitting old pallets down. “Dad I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. 

“Dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah you did,” he said. “That is exactly why I didn’t want you doing that shoot. Then all you are is a pretty face.”

He moved a pallet and picked up the axe again, bringing it down in the center.

“Dad.”

“What?” he snapped as he spun around. 

“I said it because I knew it’d make you mad and piss you off and get you to drop it. It’s the only reason I said it. Please stop asking about where my money goes. Please.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Dad I said to stop asking.”

��Tough shit,” he said with a shrug. “Call me whatever you want. Maybe I get pissed off but I’ll cool off too. I know how much you make and I know how much he makes and I know you two have both been taking side jobs recently. You should have your house paid off by now, not barely making your mortgage. What’s going on and I want the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“What’s TJ involved in,” he said. You looked away and he nodded. “There are very few reasons why you wouldn’t tell me the truth and considering how small Allie and Colin are, he’s the only one I can think of.”

“I can’t.”

“Hey! There you are,” said TJ, walking around the corner with a bag in his hand. “I was out at a ranch nearby for work and figured we could have lunch together.”

“Speak of the little devil,” said your dad. He dropped the axe and TJ set the food on the hood of his truck, cocking his head.

“You okay, Jensen?” he asked.

“Peachy,” he said, putting his hands on his hips when he stopped in front of him. “So. Want to tell me what’s going on with your finances lately?”

TJ glanced to you and you shook your head.

“Nothing,” said TJ quietly.

“You want to try that again and not lie to me this time?” asked Jensen. TJ shook his head and your dad shut his eyes. “If you’re involved in something bad, let me help. I have money.”

“TJ just tell him,” you said. TJ sighed and picked up the food, walking over to the employee picnic area and sat down. You took a seat beside him and TJ handed you a wrapped burrito, your dad sitting across from him.

“I’m not angry. Let me help is all,” said your dad.

“It’s not us who’s in trouble,” said TJ. Your dad looked to you and you nodded. “It’s my dad.”

“Oh you two,” he said, shutting his eyes. “You’re paying off Rick’s debt he owes somebody, aren’t you.”

“Rick owes money to a bookie and...he beat him up kinda bad and we have extra so…” you said, your dad staring at you. “He asked us not to tell anyone.”

“How much?” he asked.

“Five...hundred,” said TJ. 

“Five hundred thousand?” he asked, your heads nodding. “Five hundred thousand? What...how much have you given him already?”

“About half,” said TJ. Your dad shook his head and put his hands over his face, quickly pulling them off. “I know it’s a lot.”

“Yeah…” he said, swallowing to himself.

“We got it covered. Really. At the rate we’re doing extra side work-”

“Kids...you’re both so kind I think you missed something pretty important,” said your dad. 

“I don’t understand,” said TJ. He looked to you and you shrugged. 

“Guys that’s a lot of money. That’s...an extraordinary amount of money to a lot of people. How on earth does your father owe that much money all of a sudden?” asked your dad.

“He made some bets he lost on,” said TJ.

“But how could it be that much. What was the original bet?”

“What?”

“What was the original bet he made and lost on?”

“I don’t know. We figured it must have been like a hundred.”

“So your father bet a hundred, say he lost. That’s two hundred. Say he got some insane interest on it. Okay. Maybe, maybe he truly owes that much. But where did he get that original one hundred?”

“He didn’t have it,” said TJ. “We think.”

“Okay. He bet badly and ends up owing the whole thing,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“Do you give this money to Rick or the bookie?” asked your dad.

“My dad. He didn’t want us to get involved with the guy,” said TJ. 

“Okay,” said your dad. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna drive up to your folks this afternoon TJ and talk to your dad, see what’s left he owes. I will pay the rest.”

“Jensen that’s a lot of money.”

“I know it is. But it’s better to get him out of the hole quickly before something were to happen and I can afford it. Okay? I’m gonna head up. You two enjoy your lunch. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

Something was off about him as he stood and left but you weren’t quite sure what was wrong.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed. He didn’t want Jensen to know at all,” said TJ.

“He wants to help. He’s got a point. The quicker it’s paid off, the quicker your dad’s out of danger. Let’s have lunch and you can tell me about that ranch you’re fixing up.”

“Arrow,” you grumbled that night as she reached for the hot pan. “Let it cool off.”

“Why are we having dinner at your house?” she asked. “No offense but you can only cook like five things.”

“Would you like to cook dinner for seven?” you asked. She held up her hands and you rolled your eyes.

“To be fair, Colin still eats baby food,” she said.

“Thank you for volunteering to feed your nephew,” you said with a grin.

“I didn’t-”

“Ro!” he said as he waddled into the kitchen, wrapping her legs up in a hug.

“I hate you,” she said, narrowing her eyes before she picked him up.

“Thank you Arrow,” you said as she put him on her hip. “He’s got dinner in the fridge if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I got it,” she said, opening it up one handed. “Mom and dad have some last minute thing or something?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your phone ringing, Jared’s name popping up. “Can you get that?”

“Hey Uncle Jared,” she said, hitting it on speaker.

“Arrow? Hey you mind finding your sister for me?” he asked.

“She’s busy making dinner. Apparently it’s very difficult.”

“I’m here Jared,” you said. You grabbed the phone and shoved it between your shoulder and ear. “What’s up?”

“Don’t freak out,” he said. “But come outside.”

You turned down the heat on the stove and went out the front door, finding Jared on the seat out front.

“Uh, what’s up?” you asked, pulling the door shut behind you. “This is weird.”

“Your dad may have...listen. Shit went down when Jensen went up to see TJ’s dad whatever his fuckface name is.”

“Jared.”

“Oh you’re about to call him fuckface too.”

“What happened?”

“Well...he had a bad feeling about this whole thing. He and De went up there to talk to them. Things aren’t...your dad’s in the hospital.”

“What?” you said quietly. He stood up and gave you a smile, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s okay. He got a little cut when he got...pushed,” he said. 

“Jared,” said TJ, stepping outside with a curious look. “What’s up dude?”

“Normally being the Uncle is the fun stuff,” he said. TJ frowned when you both saw a cop car pull into your driveway, Cody getting out. “Codes.”

“Dad, I got this,” he said as he hopped up on the porch. You smiled and looked back at TJ. “Oh shut up. I got adopted like six months ago. I might as well.”

“What exactly is happening?” asked TJ.

“Dad,” said Cody again. Jared sat back in the seat, Cody sighing. “TJ...dude I’m sorry. You’re like my brother.”

“Did my...did something happen to my parents,” he said quietly, Cody’s head shaking. “Oh.”

“Rick’s been stealing money from you. There’s no bookie to pay off. Jensen and De went up today to talk to him and they found out the truth and your dad’s got in a fist fight and you guys ought to head up North. It’s not my jurisdiction so I’m not much help.”

“My father did what?” said TJ. Cody glanced at you and you looked down. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “TJ the police from your hometown looked into it. He took the money. He’s claiming it was a gift from the two of you but we all know that’s not true.”

“No, he’s been making progress. We’ve been making progress. We’ve been getting along really well,” said TJ.

“Did that start when you started giving him money?” asked Cody.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying what I know as a cop. Did your relationship start changing when money started exchanging hands?”

“Why does he hate me,” said TJ. You grabbed his hand and he shut his eyes. “He must hate me. That’s the only reason I can see why he would do something like that.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” you said.

“He hates you and Jensen. He thinks De is eye candy to stare at. I don’t know how on earth he can pretend to like me,” he said.

“TJ,” said Jared.

“You gonna tell me he loves me or some shit? It’s not good enough,” said TJ.

“I was gonna say you can cut him out of your life if you want to and you’re still gonna have a dad you know. I don’t understand him. I do think he loves you but there’s some resentment towards everyone else you call family. I don’t know why but it’s your choice what you want to do. I’m gonna go inside and finish cooking dinner and we’ll watch all of them tonight. Y/N-”

“I got him,” you said with a nod. 

Ten minutes later you were on the road and driving, TJ staring out the passenger window. 

“Honey-”

“Don’t,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. You reached over and grabbed his hand, TJ squeezing it. “We’re going to my parents house after and we’re packing up as much crap as we can to bring back. I’m never speaking to him again after tonight.”

“TJ.”

“All the late hours I put in doing side jobs. All the jobs you’ve been doing for set design on the weekends. For months and months we’ve been doing it. Straight into his fucking pocket. We could have paid off the house with that money. Paid off bills. That’s our money. It’s our kids money. It’s not some sack of shit’s to go buy whatever he wants with. I could fucking kill him.”

“We’ll get it back,” you said.

“It’s not about the money.”

“I know, babe,” you said. 

“Why is he like that?”

“It’s not an excuse but I think he was raised very poorly and he doesn’t...he knows it’s wrong but I think he thinks we have so much it’s okay if he takes from us.”

“He took two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from us. A year of side jobs for the both of us on top of everything else. We sleep four hours a night. We weren’t handed that. We worked for it. We worked our asses off. All that pressure and all the pressure we thought somebody would hurt him if we were late with money? I can’t believe I ever gave a shit about him. I should have trusted you. You’ve never liked him. No one in your family did. Even Arrow and that kid loves everybody. I should have trusted you guys.”

“TJ they didn’t like him because of the way he treated you, not me. I knew he was a dick when I met him but he belittles you, so, so much. We hate that he does that to you.”

“I don’t know how my mom is married to someone like him.”

“Don’t cut her out,” you said. “She raised you. You’re all her. Anyone who meets you can see that.”

“He’s going to lie when I see him again. I don’t know what to do,” he said. 

“Why?” you asked.

“Because.” You pulled over and he sat back in his seat. He turned his head and you saw all the tears streaming down his face.

“Honey,” you said. You leaned over and hugged him, TJ gripping you back.

“He’d kick my ass for crying right now.”

“Who was it that sat up with my dad after the accident and let him cry all over him? My dad who hates to cry and he’s not afraid to cry in front of you.”

“He’s strong. I’m not.”

“You’re my best friend. The girl who thought she was so fucked up and would be alone. God, Thomas. You gave me something even my parents and family couldn’t. You know how I never thought in a million years I could have this kind of love and you were never scared. The insecurities. The nightmares. The days where I’m quiet and my head gets to me. You just grab my hand and you make it better. You’re stronger than most everyone on this planet. I love and I’ve loved you since I met you and I’ll do anything for you, you know that. We’re partners. If you want to give your dad another chance you can and I won’t question it for a second.”

“I don’t want to talk to him again,” he said, sitting up somewhat. “But how do I say that when you didn’t get a choice? You didn’t get a choice with your parents. They were just gone and you had no say. How can I just walk away like that?”

“My parents didn’t treat me like the way your father does. Neither of my moms or dads ever have. You can walk away from someone that does, TJ. I don’t want you near someone like that. Jared was right too you know. You’re not gonna lose a dad tonight. You’ve always had one and he’s gonna be there for you always.”

“He hurt Jensen, didn’t he?” he sniffled.

“I’m sure he's fine. He’s very...defensive of his children is all.”

“Jensen gave me a letter,” he said. “Addressed to me. That’s when I really knew he loved me.”

“He loved you before that.”

“I know he did. I don’t know why I wanted my dad when I’ve had Jensen the whole time.”

“I’ve been there. Trust me,” you said. He let out a small laugh and you hugged him, TJ taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry Rick hurt you.”

“He hurt both of us.”

“Yeah but I care more about the fact he hurt you. I may deck him when I see him,” you said.

“That’d be kinda awesome,” he said. “But please don’t.”

“Hugs instead?” you said.

“I’ll take hugs,” he said. His stomach grumbled and you kiss his temple. 

“I’m gonna hit the drive thru and then we’ll get on the road again, okay honey?”

“Okay,” he said. You kissed him one last time before you got out of the car and dug around in the trunk. You took out your oversized hoodie and brought it up to the front, handing it to him. “What’s this?”

“You can steal it if you want. Your hoodie’s kinda make me feel better on crappy days,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. “I really love you.”

“Me too. It’s gonna be okay.”

One Hour Later

“Let’s go to the hospital first,” said TJ as you hit the edge of town. 

“Jared said my dad was fine.”

“Y/N. Let’s go to the hospital,” he said. You nodded and about ten minutes later you were parked and getting a room number. He held your hand on the elevator ride up, kissing the top of your head. “You alright?”

“I’d prefer if he could stay out of the hospital.”

“Me too,” he said, the doors opening. You walked a little too quickly until you found the room, your mom and dad talking as you walked in.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked.

“Jared and Cody came by and we learned some stuff,” you said. “Why are you in the hospital? You look...normal.”

“Your father hit his head.”

“I’m fine.”

“After the accident last year-”

“It was nearly a year ago.”

“After the accident they wanted to be safe and monitor overnight just in case. He got a cut on his arm from some metal but that’s all,” said your mom. 

“I’m fine,” said your dad. He got up out of bed and spun around. “See? No concussion. An itty bitty scratch is all you worry worts.”

“Was there a fight?” you asked. He sat down and sighed. “You don’t look like it.”

“No,” he said. He looked at TJ and pursed his lips. “TJ would you mind grabbing me a drink from the vending machine?”

“Whatever you want to say, you’re gonna say it in front of me,” he said. 

“Mom and I went up to your parents place and it started out okay. But your mom didn’t quite understand what was going on. She thought Rick had been doing well betting horses at a track and that’s where the sudden money came from. Things...devolved from there and Rick got defensive and I was angry so we started arguing and he shoved me and your mom and De shut it down and the cops came and I’m sorry but he took the money for himself. Last we heard from your mom a little while ago she’s giving all the money back to you guys.”

“You pressing charges?” asked TJ.

“It was a shove. He didn’t take my money. You two are the ones that have a right to charge him,” he said.

“Do you know where my mom is?” asked TJ.

“She’s at your house along with your dad,” he said.

“Y/N why don’t you hang here with your parents,” said TJ. You shook your head and he frowned. “You’re worried about your dad. Stay.”

“He’s okay and I’m coming with you,” you said.

“Me too,” said your mom. 

“De-”

“TJ. You’re not gonna win this one,” she said. “Jensen’s okay on his own for a bit and he’d come if he could. You’re not gonna go talk to your dad alone.”

“Fine. Let’s go,” he said, already leaving the room. Your mom grabbed her purse and you ran your hands over your face.

“Go take care of him,” said your dad quietly.

“Dad.” You walked in front of him and he wrapped his arms around you. “He’s gonna be fucked up.”

“I know. We’ll take care of him,” he said. He kissed your temple and pushed you towards the door gently. “Go take care of your husband.”

“We’ll be back.”

“Guys I think maybe I should go in first,” said your mom a short while later, the three of you parked in his parent’s driveway. 

“No,” said TJ.

“Thomas.”

“Danneel,” he said. He turned in the passenger seat and she sighed. “I’m a big boy. I can go in first.”

“Don’t be violent.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly. She kissed his cheek and nodded. 

“Okay sweetie. Let’s get this over with,” she said. You got out and took his hand, TJ not as tense as you were expecting.

“His car isn’t here,” he said quietly on the way up the porch steps. He rang the doorbell and the door flew open, his mom standing there. “Hi mom.”

“I kicked him out for the night,” she said, letting the door open for the three of you. “I’m so sorry. Danneel is Jensen-”

“He’s pissed but fine,” said your mom, following you inside. TJ walked around for a moment, stopping at a picture on the wall.

“Mom. Why does dad hate me?” he asked. He looked over his shoulder and she frowned. “He manipulated me and Y/N. He’s horrible to her family. I get that he went through something as a kid but he’s a grown man.”

“Your father loves you. He doesn’t always know the best way to show it,” she said.

“He hurt me and you’re gonna side with him. Again,” he said.

“He made a mistake.”

“Hell of a mistake,” you mumbled.

“Do you think he wants to be the way he is?” she asked.

“I could have gotten past everything before but this? He doesn’t get to worm his way out of it. I’m done with him.”

“Then you’re gonna be done with me too,” she said. TJ turned around and she lifted her chin. “He doesn’t deserve to thrown out of your life over a mistake.”

“I seem to recall you not saying a word when he almost hit your grandaughter with a belt,” said TJ. “Why do you make excuses for him?”

“Why do you hate him?” she asked. TJ threw up his hands and shook his head. “Always since you were a little boy you’ve hated him.”

“He didn’t want me, not the other way around. I know he worked a lot but all I wanted when he came home at night was a hug or a bedtime story. I wasn’t asking for much,” said TJ. “He resented me.”

“He put in all those long hours for you, to provide for you.”

“I’ve been working since I was fourteen. I paid for my own things from the second I was able to. I paid for school all on my own. My apartment. My car. I paid for my wedding and honeymoon. He paid for food and roof over my head which is the bare minimum he could have done. Don’t tell me he provided for me. He fucking hated me.”

“Because you’re not his,” she said. You and your mom looked at one another, TJ blinking where he stood. “Rick isn’t your father.”

“Excuse me?”

“I cheated on your father because he can be an asshole and I needed an escape. He found out when I was pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” asked TJ again.

“He never wanted children because he thought he’d be a bad father. I guess he was right in your mind,” she said. 

“If you’re gonna tell the story, you might as well tell the whole thing,” said Rick. He stepped out from down the hall, TJ’s mom sighing. 

“So you are here,” said TJ.

“Car’s in the shop,” he said. 

“You hate me?” 

“I love you. It doesn’t mean I’m a good person though,” he said.

“You stole from us.”

“Yes I did.”

“Why?”

“This house is the size of your living room. You have so much.”

“If you wanted money just fucking ask,” said TJ.

“Like I said, just cause I love you doesn’t mean I’m a good person.”

“You’re not even my father apparently.”

“I’m your father,” he said. “Didn’t make ya but I’m your father.”

“What’s the story?” asked your mom. They all looked to her and she looked at TJ’s mom. “What don’t we know.”

“You ever wonder how someone like me wound up with someone like your mother? We’re polar opposites most days,” said Rick. TJ narrowed his eyes and looked between them.

“Don’t tell him,” said his mom.

“Alright,” said Rick. “I must have been mistaken.”

“TJ, can I talk to you,” you said, pulling him into the kitchen. “TJ do you remember in family studies when we had that project to track our family trees and you found your parents marriage certificate and the year was wrong?”

“Y/N what’s that got to do with anything.”

“What if the year wasn’t wrong.”

“It can’t be. They would have gotten married after I was born then.”

“TJ I’m not saying your dad is great but he just lied for your mom. He loves her. Something happened before you were born or after. I have this feeling that she didn’t cheat on him.”

“What are you saying?”

“Maybe I’m wrong but maybe your mom was in a bad situation and Rick stepped in to help because of her.”

“Rick,” said TJ, very quickly exiting back to the family room. “When did you meet my mom. If you ever want to speak to me again, if you want me to speak to her again, you’ll tell me the truth.”

Rick glanced to TJ’s mom, TJ smirking.

“You do care about her.”

“Of course I fucking care about her. I care about you too.”

“That’s great. I feel very cared for,” said TJ. Rick pursed his lips and his mom nodded. “Truth or I walk out that door and never come back.”

“I was married,” said TJ’s mom. “He was charming until he wasn’t. I got pregnant with you and you were born and he would get so angry at you for being a simple baby and crying and...I was so scared of him hurting you that I left. I had nothing and I stayed with a friend for a few days. I met Rick through them and he offered us a safe place to stay with him. It was only supposed to be short term but things developed. He is not perfect but he’s not the monster you think he is. We are safe and the reason you have all you do well and truly is because of him.”

“Do you have anything to say?” asked TJ quietly.

“I loved your mother before I loved you, that’s true. But I learned and I’ve done my best. You were far better off without me in your life. Look at what you have. You’d be angry and bitter if I had more of a hand in raising you. So you can hate me but you do not hurt your mother like that. You do not walk away from her after everything she has done for you. Understand me?”

“I need space from you,” said TJ, Rick nodding. “I also need something else.”

“What?”

“I still don’t understand why you took the money if you weren’t going to spend it.”

“Was gonna impress you, turn a profit on it, give it back with interest. Be like her father, give you some money for once.”

“Jensen doesn’t impress me because of money. Yes, their family doesn’t have to think twice about the cost of most anything. But Jensen, De, they don’t impress me for any reason other than how kind they’ve been to me. They treat me like their son, like I’m their own. They don’t pretend to. They don’t tolerate me for Y/N. They genuinely care about me, all because I fell in love with their daughter, a girl that’s not even theirs and they love her to death. The house is nice. The wedding was nice and so are the vacations. But I could live in a cardboard box and be happy if all I ever got was their kindness. They never made me work for it. They just gave it to me. You could have just given it to me and I would have been a happier kid. But you didn’t and now you have to work for it on my terms. So I want our money back and I want some space from you. If and when I’m ready to talk to you again, I’ll reach out. Alright?”

“Okay,” he said. TJ crossed his arms and nodded before he went outside. His mom followed after and you gave Rick a look. He pulled out his phone and tapped on it for a few moments before shoving it in his pocket. “It says it’s pending for that big of a transfer. It should be back in your account in a few days.”

“Oh I’ll make sure of that,” you said, walking over to him. “Rick. Maybe try some therapy if you really want to salvage this relationship.”

“You think I can afford that?” he said.

“We’ll pay,” said your mom. “Jensen and I will.”

“Why?”

“Cause he’s a fucking awesome kid and he deserves a relationship with you, even if we don’t like you,” she said.

“What about you? You hate me too kid?” he asked you.

“I can learn to tolerate and respect you. But you hurt him and I’ll protect him from anyone that does that, including you. But it’s not my forgiveness you need. It’s his so maybe try the therapy and let him come back if he’s ever ready for that, okay?”

“Alright.” You turned to go when he caught your shoulder. “Can I ask where the money came from? Jensen made it sound like you were behind on bills.”

“It made things tight for us. TJ and I have both been working side jobs nights and weekends to scrounge up extra money. We weren’t handed any of that money we gave you. We even took from ourselves and our children. Just because we live in a nice house doesn’t mean we don’t work for it,” you said. “Oh and one more thing. Touch my father again or call my mom slutty behind her back one more time, you’ll find out which one of us isn’t the good person in this relationship.”

“He what…” said your mom as you walked out, pulling her along behind you. “Dickhead!”

“Come on mom,” you said, pushing her back to the car. TJ gave his mom a nod and hug before he climbed back into the backseat.

“Slut my ass,” your mom mumbled under breath as she started the car back up. 

“Mom, let it go,” you said, shutting your eyes and slumping down in your seat.

“Put on your seatbelt,” she said. You reached up and put it on, turning back to catch TJ with his head leaned back. “You okay back there?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“That’s probably the right answer,” you said. 

“Let’s get back to dad. I’m sure he’s climbing the walls to get out of there by now.”

Two Days Later

“Howdy,” said your dad, taking a seat in the patio chair beside you as you watched TJ swim in your pool with Allie. “Where’s the babe?”

“Naptime,” you said, TJ tossing Allie up in the air and hugging her tight when he caught her again. 

“How’s he holding up?” he asked, reaching over and taking a chip out of the bag in front of you.

“Better than expected. He’ll give Rick another chance someday.”

“He said that?”

“No. I know Thomas though. He’s too good to hold onto that crap. It might not be for six months or a year but it’ll happen eventually.”

“Well I think he’s a dick,” said your dad. “But if TJ wants to give him a chance, we’ll give him a chance.”

“Thanks for being his dad too,” you said.

“I love the kid,” he said, throwing his arm over your shoulders. “So what are you two gonna do with all that money?”

“Pay off the last of the lawyer fees, pay off a big chunk of what’s left on the mortgage. When that set design comes in then we won’t owe too much more on the house,” you said. “Speaking of which, I gotta go to work on it.”

“Y/N? Use some of that money and take a nice vacation with the kids. Or even just a long weekend away for you and TJ.”

“We really ought to use it for stuff like the house,” you said. 

“Have you and TJ ever taken a vacation just the two of you?”

“Of course. We went on our honeymoon.”

“That doesn’t count. The answer’s no, isn’t it.”

“Dad, I don’t need-”

“Maybe you don’t but somebody in that pool needs to have some fun. Plan a little trip away next month,” he said.

“He’s always wanted to go to Mardi Gras,” you said with a smile.

“You guys would have a blast and I got some pull down there and all. Come on. Let me spoil my grandkids for a weekend.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me,” you said.

“You mind if the twins have dinner with you guys?”

“We’re actually going to the Pads for dinner. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind more though. You got a hot date?”

“Getting a private college tour with mom and JJ,” he said. “Ya’ll can stop growing up anytime you want you know.”

“She wants to live at home you know.”

“Really?”

“Contrary to her teenage angst as of late, she does love us. Just you know, drop the curfew like you did with me.”

“And we get texts when you stay out.”

“That’s what you thought,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow and you shrugged. “I let you know when I wouldn’t be home that night. You didn’t need to know my exact whereabouts.”

“When’s the first time you stayed over TJ’s?”

“Fall of Freshman year in his dorm,” you said.

“Never mind. I don’t need to know,” he said.

“Yup. Let her have fun when she gets there, she’s smart,” you said. “Plus you know she’ll call me if shit happens. Also she has a year and a half of high school left. Relax.”

“At least I know Tom will keep an eye on her too.”

“Already planning the wedding?” you smirked.

“Shut up,” he said, ruffling your hair. “Make sure he gets this.”

He dug into his back pocket and took out an envelope, handing it to you.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “Dad?”

“Mhm,” he said as he stood. 

“Can you invite him on your fishing trip this weekend with grandpa?”

“Already did,” he said, nodding down at the envelope. “I’ll talk to you soon, tall munchkin.”

“Later dad,” you said, TJ giving him a wave as he headed out. You left the letter on the patio table and went over to the pool, slipping into the shallow end.

“Everything good?” he asked.

“Yeah. My dad left you a letter,” you said, Allie swimming off on her own, doing circles around TJ. He nodded and got out of the pool, drying off some before he went to the table and sat down. “Time for a snack.”

You scooped her up and swung her around in the water, throwing her up your hip. You walked out with her, setting her down to dry her off some. 

“Is daddy okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Why don’t you change back into some clothes and we’ll get Colin and snack time going.”

She rushed over to TJ and smiled up at him, TJ tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Daddy snack time!” she said.

“I’ll be inside in just a minute, sweetie,” he said. He leaned over and kissed her head, pushing her back towards you. You patted her inside, TJ rubbing his thumb over his lip as he read.

“Take your time, babe,” you said. You kissed his cheek and he nodded. “I’ll leave some tissues just inside the door in case.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Take all the time you need. I got these two,” you said. He nodded and smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

_________

A/N: Read the First Summer Timestamp here!