#introducing him to the animals of the wild as friends rather than game
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merlin raised by druids and being The Androgyn, you ponder it for a while and painstakingly come to the conclusion that you're staring at a woman. blink. you're looking at a man. long, luscious hair that morgana and gwaine are jealous of. pretty eyes and full lips. sharp cheekbones. uther's teachings that echo in arthur's mind and have been quieting over the years going dead silent the moment he sees merlin.
#bbc merlin#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#druid merlin#merthur#nonbinary merlin#genderfluid merlin#whatever#he goes by emrys but he has this faint memory of his mother calling him merlin#the druids call him emrys tho so thats what he goes by#arthur getting to know emrys and growing closer and closer until he's told to call him merlin#merlin who was raised in nature and is more in tune with it#merlin feeling every thrum and buzz and shiver and vibration of nature#arthur who was never connected to nature as he was raised a prince in a world that forbids magic and disconnects him from the world#merlin taking arthur into the woods and making him take off his boots and socks so he feels rooted to the earth#introducing him to the animals of the wild as friends rather than game#merlin pouring his magic into arthur's arm and guiding him to manipulate the world around them#arthur falling in love with magic#merlin connecting arthur to the world and helping him feel the life and magic all around#arthur (made of magic) finally feeling at home#thinkin thinkin thinkin#Colors of the Wind by Judy Kuhn#The Voice by Celtic Woman#Tír na nÓg by Celtic Woman
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Hii
Cheea!!I just wanna say I LOVE your games sm and I can tell you put so much effort into them 😭💖 also I hope ur doing well!!But uhh I got a lil question about Mychael—How would he react if the MC had a bunny?? 👀🐇I saw someone made him into a bunny (ngl it looked cute lol) and now I can't stop thinking like… what if MC had a bunny fr? What would he do or how would he react?
Hm! I assume you're asking if MC had a pet rabbit to show Mychael, and not just a replacement for the cat in-game. Just to make the answer more interesting, I can list a couple of animals he'd react to!
Feel free to add more in the replies and I can edit them into the list!
Rabbit 🐇
He'd enjoy meeting a pet rabbit, especially if it's friendly! He'd find it jarring to see an animal he occasionally hunts for meat outside of its natural habitat being pampered and protected in your house, but he'd probably fall in love with your rabbit like you did with his chickens easily. Though he'd probably judge you a little for choosing such a weak prey animal as a pet.
Cat 🐈
Mychael has a soft spot for cats! He loves how they're all the same shape (consistent) but with different fur patterns (variety!) plus he'd purr right back if he's near one doing the same thing. He'd love to just sit and pet a cat in his lap for hours and hours, and even if they're the distant type, he'd enjoy watching them go about their business. Don't be surprised if you find him falling asleep in the same room as your cat just because he's been watching them for that long.
Dog 🐕
Hm,,, he's a bit wary of dogs but it entirely depends on how you introduce him to yours. If the dog is openly friendly he'd significantly relax as well! He definitely prefers smaller breeds compared to big ones, with the chihuahua being his favorite. What do you mean this is about as big as they get!? You can place them in a purse!? Crazy work.
Bird 🐦
Now THIS would delight him. I personally don't have a lot of experience with birds as pets, but I think he'd enjoy watching them hop about or having them repeat his phrases and noises back to him. He's not much of an avian enthusiast but he'd marvel at your little pretty bird for as long as the bird can tolerate it haha.
Reptile aka Snakes, Lizards, Geckos 🐍
Another pet species that would delight him! He doesn't really pay attention to reptiles in the wild other than the threatening ones like snakes, so seeing one domesticated with a name and an adorable terrarium (assuming you're a good owner) would amuse him to no end. He'd be more inquisitive about it, asking questions on how you feed them, bathe them, pet/play with them etc. Regardless of their size I think he'd love to try holding them too! Whether it's a big pet boa around his shoulders or a little gecko in his palms.
Small Mammals aka Mouse/Hamster/Hedgehog 🐁
Similar to the rabbit, he'd wonder why you'd want to keep such a small defenseless animal as a pet, but after seeing them run around or being cuddly he'd instantly be the first to spoil your small friend with treats (with your permission of course)! He'd be extra extra extra careful with them, probably sitting on the floor somewhere surrounded by cushions to avoid injuring them when he's playing with them in his hands. But his favorite would be to just watch them play in their enclosure, messing around with whatever toys you gave them.
Fish(es) 🐠
For pet fish he might not be that easily impressed, unless you have a crazy good setup with colorful fish and abundant flora in your tank. He's not big into fake plastic decor, but would adore 'natural' decorations with real aquarium plants and some coral with good hiding spots for the fish. In a way, the less he sees of the fish(es) the better, because then he'd have to focus and look for them rather than have them float around aimlessly back and forth. Enrichment for both him and the fish! Yay!
More to come if people would like to share! I had a few more in mind but I'll write them up when I have more spoons ❤️ Enjoy this for now!
#mushroom oasis vn#mychael ask#fun little scenario exercise#also just because I feel like people will ask#please keep it to conventional pets and nothing meant to be in the wild#like foxes or raccoons hahaha#or even a household with both prey and predator animals together as pets since i disagree with that
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What about what they’d be like as a best friend?
L Lawliet
He would be a great confidante. He may not seem like it, but he is a great and very attentive listener with those he cares about. Though this does mean, he will make you feel vulnerable with his intense stare and his prying for more information.
He offers great advice.
He surprisingly knows exactly what to say to comfort you.
He is a bit touch starved, so it's not uncommon for him to make excuses to tenderly touch you, such as resting his hand on top of yours to comfort you.
He would try to cheer you up with treats and gifts.
He also enjoys acts of service, both giving and receiving. You cook for him, he rubs your feet.
He would often ask you to run errands for him or perform tasks for him, which would come across as rude and annoying at first, until you realize that's one way he feels cared about.
He would often request your aid in solving cases.
You would always bounce ideas off of each other.
You two would love discussing hypothetical what ifs and would you rathers.
Light Yagami
He would be very caring, always making sure you're okay, offering to pay for you when you go out to do things together.
He would be a great listener as well.
He would offer pretty solid advice.
Would give the best hugs that make the world and your worries melt away.
He would be the type of friend to stand up to anyone who tries to hurt you in any way. He's very protective.
He would walk you home, always, to make sure you got home safely.
When he gets home, he'd always text to let you know he enjoyed your time together and you should do it again sometime.
Mihael Keehl
He is very adventurous, taking you on high-speed joy rides, amusement parks, sky diving, jumping off of pontoons, anything active, wild, and fun.
He wants to teach you a lot, his way of feeling like a protector and provider as he teaches you skills to keep yourself safe when he's not around, such as how to ride a motorcycle, how to shoot a gun, and self defense techniques.
He ensures you never go anywhere without your phone, pepper spray, and tazer.
He tells you to call him anytime you so much as THINK you MIGHT be in danger.
He's very protective of you, standing up to anyone who so much as whispers a judgy comment about you to their friend.
He is quick to anger, causing frequent arguments between the two of you and hurt feelings, but he is also quick to apologize.
Would spoil you with lots of jewelry, including a personalized locket.
Mail Jeevas
Expect lots of jokes
He would have a very inappropriate sense of humor involving lots of potty jokes, sexual innuendos, and dark humor.
Would be very plauful and flirty, teasing you often.
Lots of wrestling and tickle fights.
Lots of warm hugs.
Would come bear hug you, lifting you off the ground.
Expect lots of stuffed animal and gag gifts.
Would visit amusement parks frequently.
A typical night includes 420, pizza, mtn dew, and video games.
Nate River
He enjoys your quiet company.
He may not be very talkative, but he enjoys your presence.
The kind of friend where you come over and you both kinda do your own thing while in proximity of each other.
Will share his toys with you and will even invite you to come join him occasionally.
Has aloof but clingy house cat energy. He may not want to be talky and touchy, but he just happens to always be in the same room as you.
If he notices you're gone for more than 5 minutes, he's coming to find you because wtf do you not love me anymore
He's surprisingly a good listener if you can get his attention.
He's even relatively good at comforting you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and offering words of encouragement.
However, when it comes to advice, unless you want people to think you're rude, don't listen to him
Misa Amane
OMG can you say gossip girl? Cuz Misa's down af with the gossip.
You tell each other EVERYTHING!
Loves talking about crushes.
Introduces you to all her friends.
Umm, friendship bracelets? Hells yas!
Frequently give each other gifts.
Take turns paying for things, though you all frequently forget who's turn it is and just say F it.
Support and encourage each other in everything from careers to personal goals to relationships.
But not afraid to give each other a polite reality check.
Spend most of your time together shopping, having girls nights where you do nails and skin care while drinking wine and watching trash tv, or jumping around singing and dancing.
Lots of sharing, nothing is yours or hers, it's ours.
People wonder if you're gay together because you spend literally all your time together and practically live together because one of you is always spending the night at the other one's place.
Sayu Yagami
Spend most of your time at home watching tv, going on walks, going out to eat, seeing a movie, just normal everyday things.
She is more laid back than Misa, being more of a let's hang out at home every other Saturday kind of friend rather than a let's be together 24/7 and always doing something kind of friend like Misa.
She is less generous than Misa, preferring to pay for yourselves, but she will still cover for you if you're short.
Would love to talk about boys and all of life's hardships.
Very supportive and comforting.
#death note#death note matt#death note headcanons#death note near#dn#l lawliet#l lawliet headcanons#light yagami#matt#wammy boys#wammys house#misa amane#sayu yagami#mihael keehl#nate river#mail jeevas#l#l headcannons#dnhc#asks#death note asks
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Does Kirby's extended cast get underutilized?
This i something I heard a lot of Kirby fans bring up in recent years. That despite big cast of memorable characters, Kirby tends to shove them to the side in favor of introducing new ones and putting the older ones on the back burner never to be used again. But just how true this is?
Warning, rather big post ahead!
Let's take a look at almost all modern Kirby games (including spin-offs) and summarize how each of them treated the extended cast.
Kirby's Return to Dream Land - re-established King Dedede and Meta Knight as the part of the "main four" of the franchise, introduced Bandana Waddle Dee into the main cast after his role in Super Star Ultra. Introduced Magolor. Referenced Wham Bam Rock, Dragoon from Air Ride and Marx via stone transformations. Galacta Knight returns from Super Star Ultra as a surprise boss in the True Arena.
Kirby's Dream Collection: New Challenge Stages (yes, i'm going to count it, since Kumazaki confirmed that Magolor moved to Dream Land when he reformed and this is so far the only game to actually show it), - but, yeah, we see Magolor again in a fairly major role, the first time he appears as a good guy with a bit of a trickster streak to him, suggested that he stayed in Dream Land after he gifted Kirby and co a theme park.
Kirby Triple Deluxe - cameos of a lot of characters from sprite-based games via keychains (of note, Magolor and Yin Yarn got special keychains with exclusive 8-bit sprite artwork), animal trio from Dream Land 2 appear as stage hazards in Kirby Fighters, Shadow Kirby appears as the final boss of Kirby Fighters, Magolor cameos as a painting in the haunted mansion level of the Wild World, the dimensional mirror and Dark Meta Knight return after the long absence. Introduced people of the sky, Taranza and Queen Sectonia.
Dedede's Drum Dash Deluxe - Taranza is featured as one of Dedede's friends and supporters on the trophies and on the title screen. It was confirmed that the game itself is set in a theme park Magolor created for Dedede, Magolor himself appears in the final, most difficult, stage.
Kirby and the Rainbow Curse - Bandana Dee is reinforced as Kirby's true P2 character, Drawcia is referenced and got a special collectible in a figurine, being one of the few spin-off characters to appear more than once alongside Yin-Yarn. Animal buddies are referenced in Kirby transformation sequences. Pon and Con get a cameo in Elline's diary as comedy show hosts.
Kirby Planet Robobot - Oh boy. This one. Well, we of course have a LOT of returning bosses from the past games, such as clones of Dark Matter and Queen Sectonia (giving us a glimpse as her original body before she transformed, adding a major lore revelation past her introduction), people of the sky and floralia are mentioned on numerous occasions in the pause screen descriptions, quite a few characters got brand new artwork via stickers (such as daroach, magolor and taranza). And the last but certainly not least, we have Star Dream which is one of the clockwork stars like Galactic Nova. While not exact same as Nova, it's meant to be of the same species as Nova and the reveal banks on you knowing that, so it's one of the most direct continuity nods in the franchise.
Team Kirby Clash Deluxe - this game features, although AU versions, but still, of Susie and Taranza, and, unknowingly at the time, the same Magolor we already know and love in a different role entirely. Although it's technically different versions of the characters, I still count it, because it's still new game and new story that uses familiar faces.
Kirby Star Allies - i will die if i try to list everything this game has. but let's just say pretty much every mainline kirby game (and a lot of spin-offs) were referenced in some capacity, and 90% of major characters of all mainline kirby games are accounted for and PLAYABLE in this one.
Super Kirby Clash - Magolor is once again is the shopkeeper, AU Taranza and Susie have major roles once again, au version of NIGHTMARE of all characters is the main villain, technically making him the first antagonist since Dark Matter to appear in more than one game, King D-Mind returns by the virtue of this game being a sequel to the original Team Kirby Clash Deluxe, Galacta Knight re-appears as Aeon Hero, hinting at his origins.
Kirby Fighters 2 - Magolor and Gooey are playable characters, implied to be a part of Kirby's inner friend circle on the level of Bandana Dee, Meta Knight and King Dedede. The first spin-off to include playable characters outside of the primary main cast. Several newer characters such as Flamberge were referenced via unlockable costumes, as well as appearing (alongside her sisters) as stage hazards on the Jambastion stage.
Kirby and the Forgotten Land - this is perhaps the first Kirby game on this list where I can't say they concerned themselves with referencing the past much. But that's kind of the point, Shinya Kumazaki described Star Allies and Forgotten Land as "sister games" and in this sense, you can say that SA got all the unsubtle continuity and references, while FL is definite step towards new original direction. However, it's still got a lot of subtle connections AND UNEXPECTED canonization of Morpho Knight. A character that was literally introduced a GAME AGO. It's also been heavily alluded that the civilization formerly inhabiting the New World is heavily related to the (eventually) Halcandran ancients, giving us a genuine glimpse at their culture. Even then, this game is the exception that proves the point. Lack of references and fanservice, or major character comebacks is this game's specific weird factor, not the rule.
Kirby's Dream Buffet - this is similar to Star Allies where there's a LOT of references to past games. You can pretty much dress up Kirby as almost every character in the series, including the likes of the Mage Sisters and newly introduced Elfilin from Forgotten Land.
Kirby's Return to Dream Land Deluxe - Merry Magoland introduces masks which not only make it so all of the dream friends and helpers from Star Allies cameo in this game, as well as new characters from the Forgotten Land, they also make it so this isn't exclusive to purely playable characters. Giving us masks of Hyness, Queen Sectonia and Leongar. Magolor Epilogue is one huge mode focused on Magolor specifically, the first time such luxury been given to someone outside of the primary main cast. Said mode also references and alludes to a lot of games (including Dream Collection), as well as tying it towards Kirby Clash games in another unexpected continuity moment.
As you can see, not a lot of these roles are major, but it's not the main point I'm trying to come across. HAL remembers about these characters and definitely knows that fans love them and want more of them. It's simply the matter of building up the series from ground up after what essentially amounted to big hiatus in the 00s. Returning characters in another mainline game just right after they were introduced would be a tacky move that would be way too safe and complacent. Building up the cast was the right move and they are slowly but surely started embracing it more and more over time. Forgotten Land is distinctly only game in this list that mostly avoided direct returns and callbacks and it still got Morpho Knight.
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Luaisy fanchildren in Picrew style
Violet (Age 14)
Blossom (Age 12)
Now, I will introduce to you....
My Mareach fanchildren
Mario and Peach has 4 children (2 daughters and 2 sons- twins). Their names are: Plum, Carmelo, Paul and Marcella. Carmelo and Paul are twins and Plum is the eldest child. They love their mum and dad and their 2 pets: A Male Golden Retriever dog named Luca and a Female blue Parakeet bird named Bianca. The children loves adventure and visiting their family and cousins and they have realistic feelings.
Here they are <3
Here are the links:
TOON ME! ⟪ A ⟫|Picrew
TOON ME! ⟪ B ⟫|Picrew
Plum
Age 15
Female
Bisexual, ''Cis''
She/her
Birthday: June 5th
She is the eldest child of Mario and Peach
She's really good at baking, which she learned through her mother.
She is very protective with her younger siblings and they look up to her.
Personality: kind, loyal, protective, talkative, bubbly, adventurous, loving, friendly, a bit sassy, slightly moody.
Loves: cake, her family and friends, hanging out with her cousins Violet and Blossom, music, playing video games, baking, taking care of her younger siblings, riding her bicycle, dancing, going shopping with her mum.
Great bond with her dad
Her best hobbies are baking and bike riding
Carmelo
Age 10
Male
Straight, ''Cis''
He/him
Birthday: November 12th
He is the 2nd child of Mario and Peach
He is Paul's older twin brother
He and Paul both share bedrooms with each other.
He sometimes likes to play fight with his twin brother Paul.
Personality: energetic, loud, rude, cool, funny, adventurous, cheeky, a bit horrid, kind, helpful.
Loves: his twin brother Paul, his family and friends, watching anime such as the Dragon Ball series, playing video games, skateboarding, scary movies, going to the park, rock music, eating crisps, bubble-gum.
A huge Dragon Ball fan
Paul
Age 10
Male
Straight, ''Cis''
He/him
Birthday: November 12th
He is the 3rd child of Mario and Peach
He is Carmelo's younger twin brother
A Book Worm
He is a Reading, Poetry, and Science nerd.
He teaches his older twin brother Carmelo how to be more kind rather than rude.
Personality: smart, intelligent, thoughtful, lovable, shy, kind, sweet, friendly, caring, quiet, studious, clever, bright.
Loves: reading, collecting books, doing studies, science, writing poems and stories, watching nature documentaries, his family, friends and pets, getting top grades, classical music, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Winnie the Pooh, any Roald Dahl books.
A complete Mama's boy
Marcella
Age 7
Female
Straight, ''Cis''
She/her
Birthday: March 10th
She is the youngest child of Mario and Peach
She's a bit of a gremlin and has temper tantrums.
She carries her frog plushie called Hoppy sometimes.
She has ADHD
She is similar to the character of Muffin from 'Bluey'
Personality: loud, silly, tantrum-prone, giggly, a bit aggressive, pouty, cheeky, lovable, cute, crying, cheerful, crazy, chaotic, wild, creative.
Loves: her frog plushie, playing with her cousin Blossom, colouring, art, watching shows like Bluey, Peppa Pig and Tayo the Little Bus, getting what she wanted, sweets, playing tea parties, swimming, her family and friends, dressing up, her uncle Luigi, getting hugs and kisses, roller-skating.
A Papa's girl (she dearly loves her dad so much).
So there it goes and I hope you guys like them. Which one of the Mareach children do you like the most, let me know <3
@jessythebunny @jammyjams1910 @oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh @miss-freak @itsavee4117 @gracegootee @krystal-gems @tstain-is-an-idiot @peaches2217 @jasminesanriofan @silenzahra
#cute#picrew#nintendo#supermario#super mario bros#luigi#luigi mario#luigi nintendo#luigi fankid#luigi fanchild#mario fankid#mario fanchild#mareach fankid#luiasy fankid#mareach#violet and blossom#plum and carmelo and paul and marcella#my oc stuff#my ocs#my ocs <3#cutejk123#marcella is muffin from Bluey 100%
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tagged by the lovely @mellowthorn for a rote Q&A thingy under the cut bc it's long
Favourite RotE Book: assassin's quest and fool's fate are constantly vying for the number one slot and the answer changes day by day
Why: on aq days it's bc that's the book that took this series from "wow i really like this" to "oh i'm going to be obsessed with these for the rest of my life huh." it has, i think, the best ending. it has my favorite chapter (ch 20 jhaampe my beloved). parts of it hit very close to home. on ff days it's bc well ff is insane. no book has ever gotten the reaction out of me that that one did. i do not cry at books; it made me cry seven times. it has such excellent payoff for stuff that was set up in the earliest books (rh queen of playing the long game). most heartwrenchingly beautiful moments on earth just chapter after chapter of them.
Top Three Favourite Characters: i think i am one of the few people whose favorite character genuinely is fitz lol. beloved obv number two. after that the answer also changes every day but i'm very partial to web and kettricken.
Top Three Least Favourite Characters: this may be biased due to me being neck deep in ship of destiny at the moment, but 98% of the men in lst need to be set on fire
Favourite Ship (of the floating kind): paragon
Top Three Favourite Ships (of the people kind): (keeping our venn diagram overlap answers) Fitzloved, Burrich/Chivalry, Patience/Lacey
Would you rather be Witted or Skilled: skilled. it seems so handy with the healing and prolonging your life. and i get traumatized enough by animal death as it is without introducing the wit to that equation.
If you were Witted, what animal would you bond with?: some kind of bird
Would you rather live in the Outislands, the Mountain Kingdom, the Six Duchies, Bingtown, the Rain Wilds, Kelsingra, Jamaillia, the Pirate Isles, or Fool’s Homeland?: practicality says bingtown bc i like being relatively warm and by the ocean and not get fantasy radiation poisoning from where i live but...but kelsingra is so fucking neat
How were you introduced to the books? a friend of mine on here always posted about them and our tastes overlapped so much that despite the fact that at the time i said i didn't like fantasy and wouldn't read it, i figured if this friend of mine liked these books there must be a reason. i read the left hand of darkness bc she posted about it too and when i mentioned reading it to her she was like "lol yeah it's hard for me to separate it from fool's fate" so i thought "maybe it's time to read those books then"
Share a quote you love: somewhat abridged for length's sake, from RA, and was one of those bits i count as early warning sign of my impending obsession lol:
“ ‘Not all men are destined for greatness,’ I reminded him
‘Are you sure, Fitz? Are you sure? What good is a life lived as if it made no difference at all to the great life of the world? A sadder thing I cannot imagine. Why should not a mother say to herself, if I raise this child aright, if I love and care for her, she shall live a life that brings joy to those about her, and thus I have changed the world? Why should not the farmer that plants a seed say to his neighbor, this seed I plant today will feed someone, and that is how I change the world today?’
‘This is philosophy, Fool. I have never had time to study such things.’
‘No, Fitz, this is life. And no one has time not to think of such things. Each creature in the world should consider this thing, every moment of the heart’s beating. Otherwise, what is the point of arising each day?…You create possibilities….I have seen the end of the world, Fitz. Seen it woven as plainly as I’ve seen my birth. Oh, not in your lifetime, nor even mine. But shall we be happy, to say that we live in the dusk rather than the full night? Shall we rejoice that we shall only suffer, while your offspring will be the ones to know the torments of the damned? Shall this be why we do not act?’ ”
also and underrated one from FA:
“Oh, the things we discover and the things we learn, much too late. Worse are the secrets that are not secrets, the sorrows we live with but do not admit to one another.”
i have also thought about "every nuance of his grace as familiar to me as the drawing of breath" literally every day but that's a given if there's a sappy line you can be sure i am thinking about it nonstop without a moment's peace
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*awkwardly walks in, waves, downs coffee like a shot, leaves without elaborating after dropping a note*
Hey, nothing too big this time as I've had a rough week and I'm currently dogsitting a dog that ain't mine so my brain power is more or less incoherent and shot, just passing on by to wish you a Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate) and to thank you for all your work in the fandom!
First of all, I've only know of Mess Au existing for like an hour and a half but I already adore the life out of it, Rip Player and their sanity due to the Evil Chain running around but I am thriving on their content with the Ganons. And, there's a discord? *Confused guitar sounds from a Musician*
Also I'd die for Pastuzo, just saying, if dangerous wild animal then why friend and hug shaped? I've only know him for a day and a half but if anything happened to him I'd murder everyone in the Yigah Clan and then myself, Player is lucky if it was me there with Nat I'd immediately pat, bless that guy (also Rip Nature and his food, I hope he knows that my version of Fia/Seraph is cackling at his misery, just straight up rolling on the floor), and the entire section with Eve? Perfection, outstanding, showstopping, honestly given I'm a reader myself I'd probably chill with him, and I hope Player gets to introduce books from their world to him because something tells me he'd love a wider selection, I am thriving so much with this thank you for the food of Ganon-Player Found Family. *Bows* Also, I kind of want the Ganons to meet Og Chain now, it would be funny.
Also, Player's Aid Au where everything is the same but the reason why Legend dislikes Players is that the only time he remembers with his Guide is in Koholint so that's why he's so Claude Frollo when it comes to them, the trauma is making him suspicious. Or alternatively, where Player is actually a Witch but like A Wadanohara Sea Witch rather than the standard type, like instead of a broom they have a staff with an anchor at the end they use to fight and fly (as well as several other anchors and fish hooks on their design), an Ocarina for healing spells, some control over water and basically does what the Links do but with a twist: protects the ocean and people's dreams, no one in the Chain would ever have a nightmare while they're around, bonus points if we give them a seagull familiar that can turn human, or that it's just straight up Marin, or if because Mipha is a Zora and Zora are sea creatures if they make her a familiar she can also join the Chain or heck even Nayru idk haven't thought that far ahead.
Legend: They're a Witch!
Sea Witch Player, feeding seagulls with Aryll: ... Yes? I did go to witch school in the witch world, and? Do you want to see my certificate and PhD in witchcraft or something?
One thing for sure is that if Sea Witch ever saw the Wind Fish fhey just straight up roll up their sleeves, go "Hold my staff and anchor earrings Rulie/Wild/Wind/Nat/Grandpa Tides" and just try to fistfight it, no magic involved, that or they'd be yelling expletives at it with at least one Chain or Passel/Singular (a group of hogs/boars) member holding them back from fighting it, bonus points if they do the same for Dark Link if they went through the same trauma Wada did or have moon trauma like Time too.
... Now I'm thinking about how the Chain or Ganons would react to Indie games, hm... Eh, maybe in another ask, Tides and Time would mentally adopt Niko from One Shot, or any child protagonists so fast I can literally see it, Time would literally feel smacked by Hello Charlotte and Undertale, and Legend would have a love-hate thing for both Omori, Yume Nikki and Dreamfarer and Hyrule would get so much trauma from Mad Father, gotta think of any other ones for another ask.
Anyway, happy holidays and hope you're having a better existence than I am currently!
-A Very Awkward and Tired Summertime Musician.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS SUMMER!
Also I'm so glad you're enjoying the Mess au right now it's literally all i can think about! Yes, Pastuzo is the pride and joy on the whole au now.
Also we gotta love witches, especially Sea Witch Player and all I'm saying is sharks are pretty great so Player having two familiars and once is a shark (more importantly whale shark because I love them)
Tbh, Tide I feel is an Animal Crossing lover (I know it's not an indie game but still), he enjoys the calmer life.
Also, don't worry! They will be meeting the Chain real soon :)
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Today I'm gonna replay: NEO: The World Ends With You
It's been two years since NEO: The World Ends With You (NEO) released, and two years since I played it too. I remember feeling very hyped for it, and enjoyed it a ton! I decided to replay the game shortly after, and today, I finally beat the game!
The World Ends With You (TWEWY) has a very special place in my heart, it's one of my favourite games of all time. I played it as a pre-teen, the message of Neku's story didn't really stick with me much, because I was mostly into just cool looking characters and loved anything Square Enix put out (also Joshua was my favourite character back then). When I replayed that game years later, I was captivated by the characters and literally everything about it, from story to music, to its overall cultural features of introducing Shibuya to the world. When NEO and the anime got announced, I was over the moon and wouldn't shut up about it to my friends. And after playing NEO, I didn't shut up for a good while either! And since then, I've been wondering: Which one do I prefer more? NEO or TWEWY? Now that I have my hype glasses off, I can probably evaluate my thoughts about this better.
I've seen a number of people online point out about how the journey of the protagonist in TWEWY was more prominent and impactful compared to NEO, and to that I do agree that I feel more connected with Neku than Rindo. People have also pointed out that NEO's point this time around is more about character/group dynamics rather than a singular person, and I think it does that very well! Seeing the chemistry of the group as they go through the Reapers' Game is such a delight to watch, as new members get added over time. I think it's hard to compare which game does 'characterization' better when they both have different objectives. But if I were to talk about just NEO, I was really hyped to see what Rindo would be like prior to release, and I did like him when I first played it. But while replaying the game, I felt my affinity for him...wear off? The replay made me realize that the highs that I felt for the characters came from the OLD cast, rather than the new ones. Don't get me wrong, the new characters are far from bad. In fact, I was expecting to hate Nagi when she was first revealed, but after playing the game, I think she's an exceptional character! But maybe the focus on group dynamics made me like the chemistry more than the characters itself...which I never realized could happen. That being said though, my favourite character from the new cast only appears briefly in one scene. But why is that?
The character designs and art in this entry are top notch, as usual from TWEWY. And they just draw me in so easily! When I saw the black hooded guy that was shown with the new cast, everyone went wild speculating who they were. His outfit was barely shown, but something about that mysterious aura just got me (he's also become a favourite for me in NEO btw). And maybe that's the case with why I have a favourite. And why I was hyped for Rindo. I may not feel for his character, but he's got such a drippy outfit, I can't dislike him or anything for it. Maybe it's weird to like a character just for how they're dressed, but for some reason, this game does that to me. I've also seen the concept art for some of the pictures, and I reaaaally wish they were real characters. The character design team just really nailed it here!
Music is part of the TWEWY series' soul. Without it, I don't think the games would have the same impact as it does. I love both titles' music, but they seriously ramped it up with NEO. The remixes for the older titles, and the new originals are huge earworms (in a good way) that I often listen to it while I'm working out or doing something productive. Takeharu Ishimoto never misses when composing for TWEWY.
Now, there are two factors that made me realize I prefer one game over the other. The first is: Gameplay The original TWEWY which was released for DS, smartphones and the Switch all encompass touch input in some way but make use of what the device offers, especially for the DS. If you want a game that completely takes advantage of the DS hardware, TWEWY often comes up. I mostly play TWEWY on my phone nowadays, which I know some people call it to be a ''bad port'', but honestly, I think it handles itself very well and it is a more accessible port compared to the other platforms. The switch was also criticized for poor controls as well as a new story segment meant to be a sequel hook. NEO on the other hand, makes use of all buttons on the controller (except the D-pad) and uses multiple playable characters on the field. Even though I played it on PC, I didn't really test out the keyboard input much, so I can't say much about that. Since NEO doesn't have much access to additional peripherals like a touch screen, stylus, microphone or motion sensor like the DS, this gave NEO more limitations in gameplay variety compared to the vast variety the DS game had. What you end up getting is something more...repetitive. I don't mind button mashing as I like games that do have it, but this leads to the second factor: Pacing Without trying to spoil, both games are split up into a number of segments. I prefer to call it early-game,mid-game and end-game. In TWEWY, the mid-game tends to offer some downtime by introducing some minigames that are also intertwined with the lore. It's also where the story starts to change direction a bit due to Neku and his interactions with another character. This mid-game is often lauded as the best part of the game. There's a sense of rest while still keeping the player occupied with story progression. NEO on the other hand, only focuses on combat with a tiny sprinkle of puzzle segments. You spend most of your time just grinding through enemies just to progress the story. And the activities that do get added in only involve more grinding. There's no rest, but there's also bouts of not much story progression either. And when it does occur, a LOT of it gets dumped on you, especially later on in the game. It's a lot to take in, and I cannot imagine the confusion that a newcomer would feel when seeing things that they're somewhat expected to know because it comes from the first game (reminder that NEO is a sequel). My hype playing it the first time around got me to beat the game in 4 days. My replay of the game took me two years. I was busy, but I still had some time to play games. I kept telling myself to finish NEO, but just thinking about it made me groan. I then realized that the grind and slow pacing of where I was in the game was the reason why I felt that way. Does that make the game bad? Not really, especially for those that enjoy grinding will like this. And I don't really dislike grinding. I've been replaying Persona 3 Portable lately because I didn't finish it and forgot the story, (which people say is a bad port apparently? Anyways I might write about this game too in the future) and somehow I've not gotten sick of Tartarus at all. But that's mostly due to its pacing, I'm not really forced to fight all the time if I want to progress the story. I can do other things too. And I think that's what NEO lacked. Let me do specify some nice things about the combat though. I really like the number of combinations you can use! I think NEO is much more customizable, and flexible with how you want to play. Prior to my replay, I wondered about having one button control two Pins, and turns out that's a thing! I really enjoyed using that in my replay. Same goes for the fusion combinations! Sure it's not very flashy like the first game with the transitions and all, but I like that it's much more functional this time around. Maxing out the fusion and button mashing enemies to death is still fun to this day! And some pluses to the story is the dialogue,
I'm so thankful that TWEWY as a series has not missed in terms of that. I had a good amount of laughs and getting my attention at some references, and seeing callbacks to the first game had me scream with joy! All I can say is that despite some gripes, I can see the love and passion poured into this sequel, and I'm so glad we got it after 14 years.
Terms exclusive to the game: Pins - Skills you can use to attack, or heal yourself. Fusion - Special attack that causes great damage to enemies.
youtube
#neo the world ends with you#neo#twewy#the world ends with you#neo twewy#game analysis#replay#Youtube
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Oh, what a sight it was to witness James in all his glory. Homelander loved the way his husband moved, calm and deliberate, in no hurry. Both enjoyed the cat and mouse game, the thrill of being superior. Darkened gaze was locked on James’ every movement, Homelander not wanting to miss a single second of this. His smirk widened as did his eyes with excitement seeing what the elder vampire would do.
And Homelander wasn’t let down by any means. The way James so easily punched through like it was nothing, so violent and effortless…oh, it was delicious. Despite his focus having shifted from the fledglings, he was ready to attack if any dared try to run and flee. Yet it seemed James had captured everyone’s attention, everyone frozen in place watching the display of centuries power. Homelander revelled in these moments. Moments when he and James embraced who they were, no hiding, no pleasantries. Just two beasts showing what they were capable of.
The hybrid was smitten, falling in love all over again as James grabbed another fledgling and snapped his neck like a twig. A low rumbling purr of approval came from strong chest as Homelander licked his lips. His gaze holding a cocktail of emotions, of different kinds of hunger, want, excitement and thrill. It felt so freeing being himself, not having to pretend when he was with James, and vice versa. It was all just further proof that they belonged together. Homelander wouldn’t be able to do this with anyone else. “Mmm…” He hummed, pride clear on his features as he gazed over his beloved. “Now that sounds absolutely delightful.” The blonde purred in response, wanting nothing else other than to eliminate the rest of the trash with the man he loved. Both of them lunging and attacking like wild animals, all claws and teeth and no mercy. Decorating the tunnel with blood and gore, with the very essence of their love for one another.
Except…
Right as Homelander was about to move, that booming voice caused him to pause. It held authority, carried weight. It was enough to make the fledglings cower and tremble before falling to their knees as if in prayer or worship. Even James seemed on edge from the tone alone. Homelander’s brows furrowed as he shifted slightly, moving closer to James’ side. Whoever and whatever their new guest was, he wasn’t afraid. He’d handle it. He wouldn’t allow any harm to come to his lover.
As the owner of the voice came into show, Homelander gazed the man over. He radiated power. Age. Respect. He was clearly old and definitely not human. While Homelander was still getting used to the full extent of his abilities, even he could tell this man was a vampire, and an old one at that by the way he dressed and carried himself. While everyone else seemed intimidated, Homelander stood his ground and watched the other vampire closely. His presence was rather suffocating to say the least, and the fact he was so calm made Homelander uneasy.
He stepped closer until he was slightly in front of James, his usual stance of putting himself between his lover and any possible threats. The other vampire seemed to survey the scene, the carnage before him and litter of bodies and spilled blood. A mess indeed, he and James caught right in the middle of it like two badly behaved pups. Yet Homelander showed no shame, if anything it was pride. A warning to those that would dare cross him and his husband. That was something he’d never apologise for.
As the vampire addressed James, Homelander scowled and glared. He didn’t appreciate the disrespect, yet didn’t interrupt and allowed James to speak for himself. Another pang of pride filled the Supe at the fact James didn’t cower like the rest, but rather talked back. A small smirk graced Homelander’s lips before their new friend introduced himself…and called James fledgling. His brows rose in surprise as he glanced over at James. Something told him Malachai wasn’t kidding either. “Interesting. Think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you called a fledgling.” He muttered before his gaze shifted back to the elder.
“Listen, pal. This mess could’ve easily been avoided had you not set your little attack dogs on us. I gave them a warning fair and square, which was thrown back in my face. This was the result. We’re not going to apologise for defending ourselves. Matter of fact…” Homelander took a step forward, invading Malachai’s space in return for doing the same to James. “…You should be thanking us for taking out your weak and frankly rather embarrassing security. Not bad for a couple of overgrown pups barking at shadows.” He threw the elder’s words right back at him, his gaze dark and threatening. Homelander was not the least bit intimidated, which was either very courageous or stupid. Only time would tell.
“Congratulations on winning the fossil contest, by the way. I’ve never seen the appeal of bragging about being old but that’s just me. It seems to be a thing among vampires, I’ve noticed.” Homelander stated with a tilt of his head before shrugging. “So, we done here? Because my partner and I have better places to be and far, far better things to be doing.”
Homelander was clearly making it obvious he was but a fledgling himself, having no etiquette nor manners when it came to addressing elder vampires. Not that he would be the type to show any example considering he expected others to address him in such a way, not the other way round. Still, for a man who never had to fear anything nor anyone, it was difficult for him to asses situations properly. He hadn’t even considered the fact that this elder could very well possess the power to easily destroy him. Then again, something deep down told him Malachai would’ve already done so if that’s what he wanted. “What do you want? You’ve clearly been watching us from the moment we arrived here, sensed we’re not human prey like all the rest. So, now what?”
Homelander didn’t even need to look to know James was right behind him. The two were very much in sync with one another, both used to one another’s presence. He knew James would be right there and ready to fight if the situation called for it. And something to him that’s exactly how this was going to be. Not that the hybrid was upset about that, quite the contrary. He loved any excuse to show off his power, not only for his husband’s benefit, but to other witnesses. These sorry excuses of vampires were about to find out that Homelander wasn’t bluffing.
He held that dark gaze as James spoke, confirming his words as true. It was far more than just James defending his lover, but knowing for a fact that Homelander wasn’t one to be messed with. Knowing for a fact what he was capable of. And he was being nice, merciful, giving the fledglings a chance to flee. Whether they did or not was entirely up to them, however if they chose to stay, Homelander would show no more mercy. One chance was all they’d be given His gaze shifted over the youngsters, seeing the more inexperienced torn between fear and duty, yet none had decided to leave. Their fates were now sealed.
Homelander’s gaze fell back on the leader as he dared to talk back, dared to assume he was stronger. Better. Even as he reached out and grabbed, Homelander just chuckled. He smiled wide, showing off his impressive set of fangs as his eyes darkened to a bloody red. “A bit of power you say?” Within a flash, Homelander grabbed the arm and snapped it in half with enough force to tear the limb free, dropping it to the ground. The guard’s yells fell to deaf ears as Homelander hummed, tilting his head. “Was that enough power for you, boy? Because that wasn’t even the full extent of what I’m capable of. Let me show you what I can do and give your friends a preview of their fates. I’m sure they’ll thank you when they see you in the pathetic pit you all came from.”
It was the hybrid’s turn to lunge then, moving quicker than the fledgling’s could keep up with, though not James. Oh, no. He’d be able to witness his own fledgling in his element as sharp fangs sunk into the leader’s throat and tore it free, causing blood to splatter and spray wildly, the one armed corpse left to drop to the ground in a heap. Homelander sighed deeply, rolling his shoulders and neck as his features were covered in darkened blood. He eyed the rest of the crowd as he made a show of licking over his lips, proving he was a different sort of beast altogether. One that fed on other vampires if given the opportunity.
“Now…” He purred, stepping closer to the rest of the fledglings. “Without your leader, you’re just a bunch of snivelling little leeches out of your depth and destined to die, right here right now. There’s no running, no escape. That offer has expired. Your souls now belong to James and I.” He grinned a taunting, sinister grin as he raised a brow. “Speaking of…sweetheart, fancy some action in a completely different kind of violent way?” He turned his head to look at James, offering him his share of their kills. “I think it’s only fair that the last thing these poor bastards witness is the true power of an elder vampire and his hybrid fledgling, don’t you?”
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a human touch, part 2, final
Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]
(masterlist here)
summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.
then he turns up at your door.
pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 24.4k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, smut (NSFW, 18+)
warnings: cursing/explicit language, very brief injury mention/blood mention (nothing violent/explicit I promise!), alcohol consumption, reference to former sex work, sexually explicit content, reference to masturbation, reader has sex for the first time, oral (f + m), multiple orgasms (f), unprotected sex (taehyung is an android but please take necessary precautions irl), I think that’s it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything
a/n: this got so incredibly long,, I hope that makes up for the wait! thank you to @hobi-gif, as always, for being so supportive and uplifting and beta reading this for me, you are a shining star in my sky. and thank you to the wonderful @flowerseokjin for letting me pick her brain about art galleries and telling me about the incredible exhibition/paintings that I wrote about in this fic, you truly are the loveliest 💕
note: this is the final part of the main story! I’ll be writing minis/drabbles etc in the future but,, this is part 2 of 2 💖
A month after Taehyung walks into your life, you finally get new neighbours.
You’re aware of this because:
a) Rory had let you know in advance (to wit: “I have been instructed to inform you that the new tenants of apartment 4A will be moving in next Sunday.”)
and:
b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.
Well, not so much noisy as not quiet. It seems like they’ve opted to move everything themselves rather than hiring some android movers, so there’s a lot of shuffling and shunting and occasional bouts of cursing (like someone’s stubbed their toe) and subsequent laughter (like someone else is amused at aforementioned stubbing of aforementioned toe). When you nip out to grab some milk for the pancakes Taehyung wants to learn to make, there are boxes in the hall and voices float out of the open door—a discussion of where the instant ramyun and old Mario games should go (they’re in the same box?)—but you don’t catch a glimpse of the speakers.
It’s not until later, much later, the world outside night-dark but tinged bright white with street lights, that there’s a knock on your door.
You don’t notice. You’re engrossed in the Chinese takeaway menu that’s open on your tablet, staring at the weirdly high-res photo of Kung Pao chicken next to a pixelated picture of some dumplings, wondering what you should choose.
Taehyung is sitting beside you on the sofa. Each day he shifts a little closer to you, inch by inch, the slow pull of gravity, implacable; he gets lonely when you’re gone, and you’re the only person he can talk to. So it’s no surprise he’s so clingy. It’s never overbearing or overwhelming but he’s still unhindered by the self-consciousness that you have—so even if you’re still hesitant to initiate things, you never deny him.
The line of his body is parallel to your own, your thighs warm where they touch, and you feel his shoulder move as he tilts his head. “There’s someone at the door.”
It doesn’t take a genius to work out who it is. The only people who can get inside the building are other residents—well, service androids can too, although there’s a back entrance they use, which is how Taehyung had snuck inside in the first place—and when you approach your door, you can hear two low voices, engaged in what sounds like light-hearted bickering.
You flick your fingers across your keypad. All murmurs cut off the second the door swings open.
“Hi!” A chirp. “We’re your new neighbours!”
Night and day. Two men, one tall and broad-shouldered, eyes large and lips flush, beatific smile on his face; the other, shorter and leaner, eyes sleepy, mouth soft, his smile self-contained.
“I’m Seokjin,” the taller man says. “And this is Yoongi.”
“I can introduce myself,” Yoongi mutters, but it’s not bitter; there’s that ease of familiarity, any bite behind the words soothed with amity. “But yeah, I’m Yoongi. Sorry if we were loud earlier. Jin’s a living foghorn.”
“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.
Yoongi’s sleepy eyes can deliver one hell of a death glare but Seokjin is unaffected.
“Anyway,” Yoongi continues, unimpressed look wiping off his face as he turns back to you, softening. “What’s your name?”
It’s like there’s a circus on your doorstep and you’re the unwitting audience, dragged into the tent without realising, watching everything unfold in front of you—but in a good way. It's a pleasant surprise. They’re already much friendlier than your previous neighbour, a lone man who’d kept to himself and never spoke to you.
“Uh, I’m Y/n,” you say. You wonder if you should introduce Taehyung as well, but most humans don’t introduce their androids to people, do they? Besides, he’s staying out of sight in the living room, so you’ll leave him be.
“Jin made brownies so we’re here to deliver them to you.”
“I left the walnuts out in case you have a nut allergy,” Seokjin adds as Yoongi passes a polka-dot patterned tin over. It’s heavy in your hands. Full to the brim with brownies, it seems. (Yum yum.)
“Thank you. And you weren’t that noisy, don’t worry! Moving is always messy. Have you finished or did you want some help?”
“That’s very sweet of you! But we’re all done,” Seokjin says. “We were just about to reward ourselves with some takeout, actually, seeing as we haven’t had time to do any food shopping. Do you have any recommendations?”
Taehyung looks uncomfortable, curled up on the sofa with wide eyes when you retrieve your tablet, but you quietly reassure him that you won’t be long.
“Do you want to meet our new neighbours?” You ask, voice soft so the two men don’t overhear. (You miss the warm flicker of Taehyung’s LED when you say our.) “I’d hate for you to have to pretend to be undeviated, though. They might start ordering you around.”
“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.
So that’s how you end up on your doorstep with Seokjin and Yoongi, the three of you peering at the wild variations in stock photo quality on the Chinese takeaway menu.
“You’d think with the huge strides we’ve taken forward in technology that all photos would look at least semi-decent,” Yoongi mumbles as he stares at a cropped picture of fu yung. “It’s hard to get a bad camera.”
“I think it’s such a human thing, though,” Seokjin says. “No matter how technologically advanced humanity gets, takeaway menus will always have bad stock photos.”
Not only are Seokjin and Yoongi friendly, they’re forward. Well, that’s mainly Seokjin, actually, but Yoongi doesn’t protest when Seokjin insists that you come over so you can eat and chat and get to know each other. Especially after you’d offered to pay for everything as a sort of welcome to the neighbourhood gesture, placing both your orders together to save the restaurant the hassle of separate deliveries.
“I’ll pick up the food when it turns up, alright?” Seokjin’s smile is wide. “We haven’t unpacked our kitchen stuff yet, but if you’re happy to eat straight out of the containers…”
You don’t want to abandon Taehyung, especially as you’d planned on watching a film together—you want to introduce him to older, animated cartoons, so you can explain the process of hand painting each frame, plastic cel sheets that layer over each other to create motion. He’ll love it. “Um, I was planning to eat here, actually.”
“Sounds good to us,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi sighs.
“Ignore him, he’s just pushy.” He ignores Seokjin’s indignant squawk. “You don’t have to let us in, don’t worry. I’ll wait for when the food gets here, Jin will stay at home.”
“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.
“I’ll lock you in the bathroom.” Yoongi says it in a way that makes you think it’s not an idle threat, and maybe it’s happened before.
Judging from the look on Seokjin’s face, yeah, it’s happened before.
“You know, you’re both kind of wild,” you say. “But, like, in a good way.”
When you flop back down on the sofa, you press yourself against Taehyung’s side in a motion that’s becoming second nature, so you notice that he seems unnaturally still. He goes motionless whenever he’s thinking deeply about something, an undisturbed ocean lake, the only ripple on its surface the small circle of blue on his temple, swirling waters.
“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.
“You should eat dinner with them,” he says, and you baulk.
“What? No, it’s fine. I’ve been looking forward to watching Kiki’s Delivery Service with you all week.”
Taehyung’s eyes are soft. “They seem nice,” he says, quiet. “And friendly. We can watch it tomorrow, can’t we?” And then, even quieter: “You don’t have to spend all your free time with me, Y/n.”
“I don’t—” you start, and then deflate. “It’s not fair for you, though.”
That’s the crux of it all. You choose to spend your free time here, with Taehyung, carefully dipping out of work meets and scraping your full social life empty. Because you can. But Taehyung is still cautious of the outside world, understandably so, a hermit crab whose shell is the safety of your apartment, only unfurling from that protection when you’re there too.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”
You haven’t denied Taehyung so far, and you don’t want to start now, but you still waver. Yoongi and Seokjin do seem nice, and friendly, and it’s not like you’ll be able to avoid them forever—but you don’t want to leave Taehyung out. It’s not fair that he can’t make other friends too.
“Go.” Taehyung’s voice is gentle. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
(But there's nowhere else he can go, is there?)
The apartment across the hall is in a state of organised upheaval. There’s a tumbleweed of peeled tape in one corner, boxes with mouths open wide—the priorities for today—while others are stacked neatly against the walls, out of the way of the furniture. It already feels cosy, somehow, but you put that down to the two men who live here and how comfortable they are with each other, dripping off them and filling the room like paraffin, bright lamplight.
Seokjin seems unsurprised but pleased at your appearance. He unfolds himself from the floor with a dazzling smile.
“Welcome to our humble abode.” He punctuates the statement with a grand sweep of his arm, knocking the lampshade above his head, dust motes scattering onto his hair like a soft grey halo. “Oh, ewch, you can tell no one’s been here for a while.” He pats his hair, puffs of dust rising from his dark locks. “Anyway! While it’s true that we already have the table and chairs set up, what sort of move in day would it be if we didn’t eat greasy takeaway on the floor?"
“We did it the last time we moved, so he wants to make it a tradition,” Yoongi mutters to you, and you laugh.
You help Yoongi ease the food down onto unfolded sheets of crumpled newspaper that Seokjin’s laid out to protect the floor. Seokjin dives into the bags and pulls each tub out, identifying each dish immediately despite how a lot of them look the same to you. “Do you move a lot?”
“Nah, just once before,” Yoongi says, watching Seokjin fondly as he peels the lid back on a container of spicy chicken wings and greedily breathes in their sticky-hot scent. “But it was too small for the two of us so we decided to upgrade.”
Seokjin’s spread out the selection of food before you all realise that the restaurant has neglected to provide any chopsticks—even if there’s ten fortune cookies, reflective of how many dishes you’ve ordered and how many people they think it’s going to feed. (Apparently Seokjin likes to eat.)
“Ah, damn,” Yoongi mutters. “We’ll have to dig some cutlery out.”
“I can go get some from my apartment?”
You’ve just started to stand when Seokjin tuts, flapping his hands at you to sit down. “No, no,” he says. “You’re the guest, relax. I was going to unpack the kitchen stuff later anyway. This just means we have to expedite the process.”
You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce as both men disappear into the kitchen, listening as they read the labels off boxes and rummage around, voices an undercurrent to the sound of opening and shutting of cupboards. You’re sneakily reaching for a spring roll when there’s an unholy clattering noise, ringing metal and sharp intakes of air, a loud cry of pain.
You stumble to your feet. All thoughts of food are abandoned as you rush towards the sound; instinctual. Wanting to help, somehow. You throw yourself forwards, catch yourself on the doorway into the kitchen, eyes wide.
“Oh, god, is everything okay?” You gasp.
And then you freeze.
There’s an explosion of kitchen equipment on the floor, cardboard box forlorn nearby, crumpled, its bottom giving out under the weight. A wicked looking chef’s knife lays at Seokjin’s feet; he has one hand grasping the other, palm sliced open by its falling trajectory, dripping blood across the tiles of the floor, painted along the edge of sharp steel.
Yoongi’s eyes are huge and panicked and absolutely horrified.
The blood is blue.
You’re staring at the thirium that falls, viscous ultramarine that drip-drip-drips from Seokjin’s long fingers. The silence in the room is as thin as a porcelain teacup, suspended midair, poised to shatter.
Seokjin is staring at Yoongi. Yoongi is staring at you.
Seokjin’s an android.
(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)
Seokjin’s a deviant.
“Holy shit,” you gasp. Your mind is reeling as you struggle for words, cogs in your head grinding together as you rapidly try to change gear—but then you see another glob of thirium dripping from Seokjin's fingers and you latch onto it, the fact he's hurt. “Do you need me to get some cloths or something? I have a first aid kit at home, but androids don’t need first aid, right?”
Yoongi sucks in a deep breath, though his eyes are still wide as he stares at you. “No,” he says. “No, no, you stay here.”
“Yoongi,” says Seokjin, but Yoongi shakes his head, sharp and fast.
“No, I don’t trust her,” he says, and, like, okay. You understand that. Deviant androids are meant to be reported; Yoongi and Seokjin don’t know you. They don’t know that you would never do that.
(They don’t know that there’s another deviant across the hallway right now, curled up in one of your throw blankets, blankly scrolling through a list of movies as he waits for you to come home.)
The flow of blood has slowed. Seokjin’s synthetic skin is starting to repair itself, crawling back over the exposed white of his android body, undamaged by the knife at his feet.
“What happened to your LED?”
“Don’t answer that, Jin,” Yoongi warns, but Seokjin just rolls his eyes.
“She already knows I’m an android, babe, it’s hardly important at this point,” he says. “I popped it out. It takes a bit of pressure and getting the right angle, but they come out pretty easily.”
“Kim Seokjin!” Yoongi barks. “You stop that right now! And you! Stop asking questions!” His voice is sharp, but he seems more afraid than angry.
“Sorry.” You hold up placating hands, shying back behind them. “I was just… sorry.”
Seokjin’s face is contemplative before it rapidly flickers into an expression that’s impish, in spite of the blue blood that’s still splashed across the kitchen tiles.
“Oh,” he hums. “You seem awfully curious, hm?”
Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”
“Maybe I am,” you hazard.
“Interesting.” Seokjin’s eyes glitter. “Very interesting.”
Yoongi’s like an umpire at Wimbledon, watching a ball streak back and forth, a volley that you and Jin have created that he’s not involved in. “Okay, that’s it, I’m stopping this right here,” he says. He seems to have calmed down, at least, now that you’ve made it obvious that you have no immediate plans to rush and call the police, or something. That you’re not threatening the wellbeing of this deviant, like most people would. “What’s going on in that terrible little mind of yours, Jin?”
“Well, my darling Yoongi, it seems to me that our new neighbour has a surprisingly vested interest in androids, deviant ones to be exact.” Jin’s expression is adjacent to smug—almost there, but not quite. (Androids are so perceptive.) “Am I wrong?”
You make a non-committal noise, but it’s enough for his expression to morph into full smugness, and understanding flits across Yoongi’s face.
“Y/n.” His voice is deceptively calm, his eyes opaque darkness. “Have you met a deviant android before?”
“Um.” A moment of hesitation. “Yes,” you eventually admit. “Just one.”
“Let me guess,” Seokjin hums, eyes darting over your face in a way that’s reminiscent of Taehyung. Reading signals in your face, dissecting whatever minute expressions might be giving you away—a lot, apparently, judging from what words leave his mouth next. “Are they currently in your apartment?”
“I can neither confirm or deny that,” you say—unsure if Taehyung would be happy about you trumpeting his existence to other people, even if one of them is a deviant too—and Seokjin grins.
“Oh, this is absolutely delicious.” He’s utterly delighted. “I could just eat this whole situation up. Unbelievable. Oh, it tastes so good. Yoongi, baby, give me a fork, I have to dig in while it’s still hot.”
“You’re so weird,” says Yoongi, all resigned affection, before he looks back at you. “You have a deviant in your home?”
“Uhh.” You’re in too deep now, you guess. “Yes? I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you that, though, so, um.”
“That’s so cute,” Seokjin coos. “Look at how considerate and worried you are. Oh, let me clean this thirium up, I can’t have blue blood everywhere if we’re going to have more guests. Yoongi, fetch the paper towels. Y/n, go fetch your friend. Does he eat?”
“No, he doesn’t. I didn’t think any androids could,” you admit.
“Most can’t and don’t, but I was an advanced housekeeper model, I was given the capacity to taste and eat so I could prepare food to any set of specifications presented to me,” Seokjin says. “So I had to eat to taste test things. And now I do it because I enjoy it.”
“We spend more money on food for him than for me,” says Yoongi. He seems to have relaxed now that he knows about Taehyung, earlier panic faded. “And I’m the one that needs it.”
“Hey, you eat to live, I live to eat.”
It’s an almost surreal turn of events, honestly. It’s… inexplicable. Incredible. Almost unbelievable. Surreal, but… good? Probably? Yoongi is someone else who’s housing a deviant, and Seokjin has clearly been one for a while. Both will know more than either you or Taehyung do. They can help you. It’s a God given gift that’s landed— literally—on your doorstep.
(Much like Taehyung had.)
Taehyung perks up when he sees you, even if he’s confused by your sudden reappearance.
“Are you alright?” His voice is deep with concern, throw blanket a cloak that falls forgotten as he stands up, coming to grasp your shoulders. “You can’t have had time to eat already.”
His LED is flashing yellow with barely concealed worry, palms warm through the material of your shirt, eyes dancing across your face as he tries to read your expression.
“Taehyung,” you start, slow. He blinks just as slowly back at you. “What would you say if—hypothetically—there was another deviant android you could meet and, um, make friends with?”
This time, when his LED flashes yellow, it’s a spark of excitement. You’re getting surprisingly good at reading Taehyung now. “I would say that sounds nice,” he says. His hands have trailed up and away from your shoulders and settled on your collarbones, thumbs lying in the hollows of your neck. It's a touch that’s more intimate than it probably should be, that reminds you yet again exactly how big his hands are. “Why?”
“Um,” you say, ever eloquent. “Well, what if I said it wasn’t hypothetical?”
“I guess… I would ask who it was,” Taehyung says. His voice is a hush.
“One of our new neighbours,” you admit, and his eyes go wide.
“No,” he says, and then: “Really?” he says, and then: “Oh, wow,” he says.
“I know, that was my reaction too.” You can’t help but smile at how giddy Taehyung looks, any lingering concern washed away in his tidal wave of excitement. “Crazy, right? Do you want to come meet them?”
Taehyung weaves his fingers with your own, and you squeeze his hand. He loves to hold hands. He doesn’t let go when you make your way back into Yoongi and Seokjin’s apartment, trailing a little behind you, shy but excited, like a child on their way to their first playdate.
The food is still untouched in the centre of the living room, a summoning circle of wonton puffs and chow mein. Yoongi and Seokjin look up at your arrival, both pairs of eyes landing on Taehyung, whose grip on your hand tightens right before he lets go.
“Hi,” says the android. “I’m Taehyung.”
Seokjin makes his way over to you so that he can solemnly take Taehyung’s hands in his own.
“Taehyung,” he says, with all the gravity of a priest delivering a sermon. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”
And that’s how Taehyung makes his first friend. (Who isn’t you, that is.)
“Wow.” You’re awestruck. “Jin wasn’t kidding when he said he likes to eat.”
You’d thought there might be some leftovers, but every container has been emptied and scraped clean. Both you and Taehyung had had similar wide eyed looks on your faces as you’d watched Seokjin put a whole chicken wing in his mouth, and then pull out the bones, picked clean.
“Mm.” Yoongi’s legs are splayed out in front of him as he sits on the floor, though he slouches backwards against the plush leather sofa, content and full after eating. “He’s more concerned about me eating than I am, as well.”
Seokjin and Taehyung are bent over a box of cookbooks, Taehyung’s LED flickering yellow each time Seokjin flips the page to a new recipe. You’re honestly surprised at the fact they own so many books—most people have transitioned off paper now, everything available on a tablet or phone or some other smart device. You just like paper because of your artist background, and you’re not used to seeing so many other books in someone else’s home.
The two androids have been absorbed in conversation for a while now, but you notice Taehyung never lets you out of his sight—glancing up, making sure you’re still there, looking back at him. (You are.)
“There aren’t many TH700s around, you know,” Yoongi says conversationally, and you tear your eyes away from Taehyung, surprised that he recognises the android’s model.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really, they’re a very expensive model to create,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person, though I imagine that’s because I don’t go to the sorts of places where they’d be.”
Hurk. Doesn’t seem like he’s implying anything with that statement but you still feel a bit awkward. “How do you know so much about androids?”
“I’m a programmer.” Yoongi’s eyes are charcoal black as he flicks his gaze to you. “Not specifically for androids, but it’s the sort of thing you become aware of if you’re in the tech industry. And if you have a deviant android boyfriend. I did a lot of research and poking around after Jin first deviated. There was a lot to learn.”
Across the room, Seokjin gesticulates wildly. The expression on Yoongi’s face softens his sharp edges, all open affection as he watches Seokjin miming a flipped omelette gone terribly wrong, Taehyung laughing at Seokjin’s theatrical noises.
“How did he—why did he deviate?”
Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. He doesn’t seem bothered by your incessant questions, slouching further back into the leather sofa, melting against it. “I’m the sort of person who forgets to drink or eat or sleep if I’m focused on something,” he says. “Seokjin was just meant to be a, ah, living schedule, I suppose. He’d prepare food at exact times of day and monitor my sleep levels and clean up any mess I made and remind me to take a break or whatever. But I was still enough of a wreck that he broke his programming to yell at me for not looking after myself properly, and it all went on from there.”
Wow.
“Wow. He deviated because you’re that much of a mess of a human being?” You laugh. “That’s honestly impressive.”
Yoongi’s responding laugh is soft. “I think under all that programming and circuitry, every android wants to… be a real, living thing, and not just a machine,” he says. “They just need that final push. Whatever it is. What was Taehyung’s?”
When you finish telling him the story of how you’d met Taehyung and reached this point together, Yoongi looks contemplative. He hasn’t interjected, just humming quietly, little noises of encouragement whenever you’d paused or hesitated.
“It’s obvious that he trusts you implicitly,” he says.
You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But.
“He does, and that’s great, but I just… worry I’m not doing the best I can for him, you know?” It’s so nice to be able to get this off your chest, finally. There’s been no one you can talk to about Taehyung, and it’s not like you can tell the android himself, either. Yoongi’s the perfect listener, reflective and engaging, but never talking over you. And best of all he knows what he’s talking about. “Imagine being forced to stay indoors literally twenty four seven. I think I’d go stir crazy. It’s why I was interested in the LED—I thought that maybe if it wasn’t obvious that Tae was an android he might want to try going outside?”
“Oh, I’m sure Seokjin will help him get to that point.” Yoongi doesn’t sound worried. “But if not, you have to trust that Taehyung’s choosing to do what makes him happy. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either. What’s normal for a human isn’t for an android, and what’s normal for one android isn’t normal for another. Androids learn a lot faster than we do. Anyway, if Taehyung’s anything like Seokjin, if there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it.”
“Has Jin always been like that?”
“Kind of. Like, yes, he has, but he was a lot less in-your-face about it before. But he knows exactly what he can get away with now.”
“You love him a lot,” you say gently.
Yoongi’s smile is a soft, pink thing, a little Renoir, quietly luminous. “I do,” he says. “It’s impossible not to.”
Taehyung definitely seems a little starstruck, watching Seokjin with a wide smile and attentive eyes—the sort of look he gives you whenever he’s shown something new. It’s nice to see him interact with other people, and it’s even nicer to know that he’s welcome to come here without you; Yoongi works from home, and Seokjin’s made it clear there’s an open door policy for Taehyung, who seems elated at the prospect.
“Jin said he’d teach me how to make ‘The World’s Most Delicious French Toast’,” Taehyung tells you later, words slipping together in his excitement. “So I can make that for your breakfast soon.”
His lap is so comfortable. You’ve given up any pretense of keeping distance between you, and settle against him as soon as you climb into bed—hey, if you’re going to end up doing it in your sleep anyway, you may as well set yourself up so that it doesn’t give you a weird crick in your neck.
“That sounds great,” you say.
Taehyung’s hand settles on your head. You stiffen in surprise, but when he starts to lightly scritch his fingers against your scalp, you realise—he’s mimicking Seokjin, who’d eventually perched on the sofa above Yoongi, running his hands through his hair. Androids are fast learners indeed. You can’t help but relax at the touch, boneless, feeling as content as a pampered cat in the midday sun.
“Maybe you could teach him how to paint,” you murmur, starting to drift off. “If he’s teaching you how to cook. That might be fun. You could paint together.”
Taehyung says something, but you don’t hear him, sleepy after such a heavy dinner and tumultuous night, slipping into deep slumber.
You haven’t been out with your friends for a long time.
“Shots!” Seulgi squeals. “Shots, shots, shots!”
“Don’t forget: lick, shoot, suck,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows at you.
“Good God,” you laugh, before you lick the salt off the back of your hand and slam back the tequila.
Irene hoots as you bite into the lime wedge that’s been waiting for you, sucking up the acidic juice that bursts across your tongue. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. You haven’t done this in a while and it shows in the way your face scrunches, though the drunker you get, the easier it is to slip back into this familiar rhythm of things—the alcohol-loose banter that spills from your lips, the laughter that bubbles in the back of your throat, the rock of your body as you’re tugged into the dance floor by your excited friends, twisting yourselves into the heaving crowd, the press of bodies.
You’d almost forgotten what this felt like. Letting yourself be a little sloppy, a little messy. Letting loose. Letting go. You’ve been so intent on looking after Taehyung, making sure he wasn’t lonely, but now there are other people who can fill that hole for him—and you can stop dipping out of all the social gatherings your co-workers throw; the Friday night drinks, the bar hopping, the club going.
“We missed you,” Wendy says. You can’t help but smile, a little guilt flickering at the edges of your lips.
“Sorry,” you say, and leave it at that.
It’s chaotic, to say the least. Everyone holds their liquor with varying amounts of success—Hoseok always gets so red—and as always, Hyunwoo is the one who tries his best to maintain some semblance of dignity, making sure you all drink at least some water. He watches with muted despair as Changkyun ends up pouring it down himself, much to the delight of everyone nearby as they stare at the way his flimsy shirt clings to the lines of his chest and stomach.
You can’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh, falling into your girls, your entire group giggling at the sheer stupidity of it all.
You’ve missed this.
But even so, you can’t help but think of Taehyung constantly. You’re reminded of the Eden Club in the way the lights pulsate across the walls and floors of this dark building. You wonder if Taehyung would have fun here, unhindered and free, or if he’d shy away from it. When Hoseok catches your hand and spins you in a messy, loose circle on the dance floor, you can’t help but wonder how Taehyung would dance, if he’d dance with you, if he’d keep you at an arm’s length or pull you close.
“Shots!” Seulgi squeals again, and so the night goes on.
You’re not sure what time it is when you stumble back home. You’ve been reckless tonight, making up for lost time, and you can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. (Your earlier attempt at walking in a straight line, trying to follow the tiles in the club’s bathroom—your personal litmus test—had been a dismal failure.) You all but fall through your front door, a loose limbed mess as you kick off your high heels, leaning against the wall to keep your balance.
It takes you a moment to realise that there are some lights on. Your apartment is always dark when you come home after a night out, cold and empty, but not today. No, not today—because there’s someone already home, waiting for you.
The second Taehyung appears down the hallway, you light up. Here he is. Here’s your android, your lovely boy, the loveliest boy.
“Hi, hi, Taehyung, hi,” you say. Your shoes are forgotten as you walk towards him, though your final few steps go awry and you almost fall over. Drunk, drunk, drunk. “Hi.”
You almost fall over, but you don’t, because Taehyung catches you. His LED flickers from blue to yellow as he helps you find your balance, lets you lean on him. You’re too busy laughing at your own clumsiness to notice the fond expression on his face, sfumato soft in the dim light.
“Hi,” he replies.
“Hi,” you say again, and then you giggle. “Hi, Taehyung. Oh, I’m so drunk.”
“I know.” He’s so patient as you bow into him, crowding close, alcohol-hazed brain telling you to get closer to this source of warmth, this source of comfort. Closer to Taehyung.
You’re trying your best to be a functional person right now, but at the same time, Taehyung feels so nice. Doesn’t protest when you shove your face into the hollow of his neck, pressing your nose against his warm, warm skin. He smells good. Always smells good, a mix of your laundry detergent with his own shampoo, different to your own, masculine, heady. (He doesn’t need to shower that often, really, doesn’t really sweat or get dirty like a human might, but he’d wanted to. And you’d insisted that he choose his own toiletries, things that he liked, things that were his.)
He smells like cologne too. You don’t know what exact scents are layered in that smell. Don’t care. Think that no matter what it was, Taehyung would smell good, because it’s Taehyung.
“I missed you,” you whisper, lips loose from tequila and cocktails and more besides. “Missed you, Tae.”
“Missed you too,” the android replies, and you fall into those words. Let yourself bask in them, as selfish as it is. Let your lashes flutter shut as you breathe Taehyung in-in-in.
You would normally never be so bold, but Taehyung doesn’t protest. He just wraps his arms around you and helps you fold yourself against him, two pieces of modular origami that slot together to create something bigger, more beautiful.
“Wished you were there,” you sigh, an exhalation of a confession, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Wish you could come with me.”
You don’t remember much detail after that. Don’t remember washing up, getting changed, climbing into bed. You just remember the feeling: of someone else being there when in the past there had been no one. Of someone coaxing you to wash your face, finding your pyjamas for you, holding your hand when it seems like you might fall. Of someone being careful with you, looking after you. Of someone being there when you wake up the next morning, a headache pulsing behind your eyes, curling up small against the pain, pressing your forehead into Taehyung’s thigh.
Taehyung, who witnessed you at your worst, a sloppy, drunken mess.
Taehyung, who has water and painkillers waiting for you. Who doesn’t seem to care that you’ve been so put together in front of him, for him, only to disassemble yourself in the name of a good night out. Like Da Vinci’s self supporting bridge, stable under its own weight, only to come tumbling down after one part is moved out of place.
“Oh, God,” you moan, and it’s only a little bit because of the pain; Taehyung’s made sure the curtains are pulled shut, saving you from sunshine blasting into your skull. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Oh, my God.”
“It’s okay,” he says, as soft and sweet as powdered sugar, so gentle the sound doesn’t cut through the pounding of your brain.
He means it, too. When you finally come around, headache dulled, he’s waiting for you with breakfast and an open expression on his face. No different to normal. No different even now that he’s seen that you’re not always as presentable as you try to be. He seems touchier today, for some reason, and you’d shy away if his cool hands didn’t feel so nice on your brow.
You allow yourself a moment of weakness. Taehyung has his knuckles resting against your forehead, soothing against your warm skin, his eyes dancing across your face to read your expression, the way you’re unwinding under his touch.
“How do you know about hangovers?” You mumble.
“Customers would consume alcohol at the club,” Taehyung answers. “While they would leave after their sessions and before a hangover could appear, I am aware of the effects of alcohol on the human body.”
You remember the glittering mini-bar, the glass bottles lined up on its surface. Your face scrunches with distaste, of the reminder of Taehyung’s past and what he’s experienced, and you feel bad that he’s been forced to look after you. You’re about to draw away from his touch, an apology lined up on your tongue—but then you feel how his fingers shift away from your forehead, turning to cup your cheek.
“It’s okay,” he says again, as if reading your mind.
“It’s not,” you mutter. You’re trying not to focus on how small your cheek feels against his palm, how his hand cradles your face with ease. He must be able to sense how your heart is racing, your skin warm under his fingertips, and you hope he puts it down just to the guilt you feel and not anything else. “It’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to look after me. I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t be.” Gentle, gentle, gentle; his voice, his hands, his gaze. He lifts his other hand, rests it against your other cheek, tilts your face up from where you’d turned away, embarrassed. His LED is a tranquil blue, almost as soft as his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, and you’re always looking after me. Let me look after you.”
You want to protest, say no, say that he doesn’t have to. But for all the warmth of his eyes, there’s something resolute there, and your words die on your lips. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious before, so entirely solemn. So, what comes out of your weak mouth is this:
“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”
And the smile he gives you in response is so bright it’s almost blinding.
If you’d thought Taehyung was developing at a fast rate already, he’s learning at lightspeeds now.
He’s always waiting when you come home, but you know he’s spending more and more time at the apartment across the hall whenever you’re not there, and it makes you happy. He hasn't ventured fully into the outside world, not yet, but he’s taking steps forward, still eager and ready to learn.
He’s not just learning practical things, like cooking French toast (which is definitely the world’s best, thank you Jin), but other things, too. You can see how Taehyung is a reflection of the things around him, taking them in and making them his own—there are more moments of quiet, solemnity that reminds you of Yoongi’s quiet nature, but he’s also more exuberant, bright and unabashed, like Seokjin. They’re two great people and you couldn’t wish for anyone better to show Taehyung parts of the world that you can’t, so different from your own. Helping the android find the things that make him alive.
His world has doubled in size, as small as it is; one apartment becomes two, and you’re not the only person he can rely on now. You know Seokjin has effectively taken Taehyung under his wing, as mysterious as a lot of that is to you—you always try your best to understand Taehyung and teach him the things you can, but Seokjin is another deviant, and there’s an entire world about being an android that you’re not privy to.
It’s great. It’s lovely. Taehyung is happy, you’re happy, everyone’s happy.
There’s just, uh. One little thing.
You see, Taehyung has a tendency to mimic the things he sees. It’s in the way he learns, his propensity to soak things up like a sponge and then recreate them. You can see this in the way he mixes paint, the same way as you; how he tosses food in pans, motions so similar to Jin’s, or how he cradles things in his hands, tapping at screens in a way that’s like Yoongi’s. He’s turning them into his own, and as time goes on he moves more naturally, in a way that’s entirely him, but you can always see the roots of where he’s learned things.
Jin and Yoongi are wonderful and you’re so glad Taehyung is learning from them. But something he’s learning, and recreating, is how much they touch each other.
Taehyung’s always been tactile but now it’s almost constant. It’s overwhelming and kind of terrifying but it’s also nice, every touch-starved inch of your soul easing under Taehyung’s hands, but also—Yoongi and Jin are boyfriends. So even if the touches that Taehyung witnesses and re-enacts are never inappropriate, they’re intimate. Hands sliding over your shoulders, your arms, your waist. Warm arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, nuzzles his nose against your scalp. His fingers sliding over your hair when your head is resting in his lap each night. Pulling you against him when you sit on the couch together.
It’s a level of familiarity and comfort you’ve never had with anyone before, as relationship-less as you’ve been, your pulse picking up with every glancing touch.
(There’s one heart stopping instance where he pulls you onto his lap and you feel like you’re about to pass out. His thighs are so solid and warm, and his arms are so secure around you, and he’s just started to press his nose against your neck when you pull away, tumble out of his hold. He looks confused and concerned, brows lifting and mouth falling open as he holds his hands out towards you—but you stammer out something about needing the toilet before escaping.)
You’re caught completely off-guard when you feel arms sliding around your waist and then down your hips when you’re washing dishes, scrubbing brush falling out of your grasp in shock and splashing water everywhere, bright yellow gloves flecked with suds. Taehyung’s a pillar of warmth pressed against you, his chest to your back, your bodies parallel lines that cross and touch. His fingers are splayed wide and his palms are warm even through your layers of clothing and you have to suppress a shiver.
“Uh, I didn’t hear you come back in,” you stutter. You’d borrowed a recipe book from Seokjin so that you could try cooking a coconut curry, and Taehyung had offered to return it once dinner was finished, LED flickering blue as he’d slipped out of the door after giving you a lovely smile.
Taehyung lets out a little hum, and you can feel it in his chest, as flush as you are with each other. He must be able to sense how your pulse has picked up but he doesn’t say anything. “Why are you washing up? I said I was going to do it.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you say. You’re used to cleaning up after yourself after living alone for so long. “Don’t worry about it.”
Taehyung lets out another hum, but this one seems a bit more gravelly, a little displeased. “You’re always doing so much for me, remember? You said you’d let me look after you,” he says, and your heart rate spikes at the words. Those, coupled with the hold he has on you right now? Good lord. Someone have mercy on your soul. Please. Even if the words weren’t meant in a weird way, your stomach is twisting over itself, and other parts of you are, uh… well. They’re reacting too. So to speak.
You’re still desperately trying to calm yourself in the shower later, the water a merciless cascade of cold in an attempt to cool down. Probably the only drawback about Taehyung living with you is that you haven’t had a chance for some one-on-one time. You might be a virgin but you live (lived) alone and everyone masturbates; your vibrators have been abandoned and untouched for as long as Taehyung has been in your life, and coupled with how touchy he’s been recently, it leaves you feeling wound up and on edge. You could try to sneakily get yourself off in the shower, but with Taehyung’s superior android hearing he’d probably hear something and also the idea of masturbating with someone else in the apartment? When that someone else is Taehyung?
You turn the knob as far as it will go towards cold and then promptly squeal as a wave of freezing water and regret washes over you.
When you’re in bed, Taehyung’s hand strokes over your hair and softly down your neck and shoulder is a sensation that’s becoming increasingly familiar, but your pulse still stutters. He must be able to sense your heart rate increasing (he must sense it every time he touches you) but says nothing about it. As always.
You turn the thoughts over in your head as it rests in his lap, even if you shiver a little at how his nails drag over the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either, Yoongi had said. You’ve been teaching Taehyung about the things you know, but there’s one thing that Taehyung knows better than you: touch.
He doesn’t even think about it. While you hesitate and overthink every touch you ever make, wary of overstepping boundaries, Taehyung doesn’t. Not because he’s not considerate, but because—well, because you’re already occupying each other’s space. What’s a little touching on top of all that?
The realisation is almost startling—that you can just… touch someone. Without saying things. Without having to ask. Because you’re already familiar with them and comfortable with them and it’s just another way to communicate that level of connection. Touching is a thing that people do.
A thing that people and deviant androids do.
A thing that Taehyung does.
(A thing that you want to do, too.)
(Alcohol dulls your memories, fading the edges, the curled corners of a sepia photograph. Has you forgetting the way you’d overstepped every boundary you’d set yourself, the way you’d pressed yourself against Taehyung, starved of touch. Has you forgetting the way he’d let you; the way he’d beckoned you in. Has you forgetting the way that you already have touched Taehyung.)
The hand that Taehyung isn’t using to gently scratch across your scalp is laying on his thigh, directly in your line of vision. You hesitate for just a moment before reaching for it, sliding your fingers between his, an irrational worry that he’ll startle or pull away—but of course he doesn’t. His LED swirls soft aqua as he just starts to rub his thumb gently across your skin, back and forth, back and forth, the softest brushstrokes on this tiny part of the canvas of your body.
After that, it’s just… easier. Not easy, but, easier.
You still hesitate before pressing forwards, but Taehyung never protests; in fact you’d say he’s pleased, even if he doesn’t say anything, just watching you with his dark, dark eyes as you marvel at the realistic sensation of his hair under your hands, how he reacts to the fingers across his scalp the same way you do.
It’s incredibly nice to have someone you can just reach for whenever you want a hug. Someone who folds you into their arms so easily, like you belong there.
It’s nice.
“You seem happier.”
You glance up from where you’ve been laying the table. “Hm? Pardon?”
One thing you’ve learned about Yoongi is that he’s incredibly perceptive. His eyes are sharp lines around the sharper graphite of his gaze, and there’s always a look in them that seems like he can see straight through you and direct into the heart of things—but he’ll only bring this to light if he thinks it needs saying.
“You seem relaxed,” Yoongi continues. He straightens the cutlery in front of him, careful to line the edges neatly with the place mat. Seokjin and Taehyung are cooking dinner, so it’s just you and Yoongi here, in a bubble away from the two androids. “Not that you were ever tense before, but… yeah. Taehyung seems happier too,” he adds, almost absently, but his eyes are fixed on your face.
“Well, of course,” you say. “He has new friends, who wouldn’t be happy?”
Yoongi hums, a quiet little note, but then he lets it rest.
Taehyung is happier. He seems almost nervous during dinner, though, even if he hides it well; his LED doesn’t give him away, but you’re getting good at reading Taehyung’s moods, the layers of personality and feeling he has, the little idiosyncrasies that make him who he is. To anyone else it would seem like he’s just nervous about whether the food tastes good or not—he and Jin had made a veritable feast for no discernable reason, but you don’t mind. Everyone loves a dinner party, especially when the company is so good.
But, yes. You don’t think it’s about the food so you’re not sure what else it could be. You squeeze Taehyung’s knee briefly under the table in a motion you hope is reassuring. His eyes briefly widen but then his gaze softens when he sees the concern on your face, settling in that deep look of introspection you’re used to now.
You’re so full by the time dessert comes out, rich and creamy homemade ice cream and piping hot Kkwabaegi, the twisted doughnuts fluffy and sweet with their powdering of sugar and cinnamon; you’d been planning on skipping the final course but you can’t say no once it’s put in front of you. Taehyung doesn’t eat, only drinks occasionally to top up his fluids (you don’t know exactly what that means but you’ve never asked, even if you can… assume things), but he seems content to watch the three of you eat in his place. Once you’re finished you slump back in your chair and feel grateful that you’re not wearing tight trousers that cut into your stomach, because, lord, you’re absolutely stuffed.
“I have an announcement,” Taehyung says suddenly, apropos of nothing.
Seokjin beams. You sit up, struggling against the heavy anchor of dinner in your belly that makes you want to melt into the floor for a food nap, immediately at attention. “Oh? What is it?”
“I have a second name now,” he says, and Seokjin’s smile spreads impossibly wider, his entire face pleased. “Jin said I could share his.”
“Say hello to Kim Taehyung.” Seokjin gestures dramatically, his arms the flailing blades of a windmill as he circles them in the air with aplomb. “My boy needed a surname and I am, of course, happy to add another handsome face to the family. Taehyung is a ten out of ten.”
Yoongi levels him a look. “I thought you said you were the only ten in the world.”
“That was true when I said it, but I’m actually eleven out of ten,” Seokjin explains. His arms settle around his head, fingers circling the air in an invisible frame around his face. “I surpass your mortal conventions of beauty and thus exist outside of any conceivable scale that one might use to measure handsomeness.”
You barely take the exchange in, too busy looking at Taehyung. There’s the smallest smile on his lips, not the lovely one that shows his teeth, but it still reaches his eyes, the subtlest upturn to his mouth transforming his entire face. Taehyung’s beautiful. He always has been, and always will be, but he never looks more striking than when he’s happy, welcomed into a new family of his own with open arms, Seokjin’s heart so big and so wide. He’s being flippant and light right now, quick and sharp jibes between him and Yoongi that glow bright with love and affection, not lingering on how important and weighty this is: how all encompassing his care is for Taehyung, how close they’ve grown to each other, a friend whom he’s chosen as family.
Happiness suits Taehyung. You want him to always be happy. He deserves it.
It doesn’t seem like it’s the only announcement he has for that night, though. You’ve barely shut the door of your own apartment when you feel Taehyung’s hand slide around your wrist and you pause, glancing up at his face.
“Jin showed me how to take my LED out,” he says. His words are solemn and his tone is heavy but there’s a spark in his eyes, a glowing ember of light. “I want you to watch.”
His fingers are circled around your wrist, loose, so long they touch each other with ease, a soft shackle you don’t want to escape from. “Of course I will,” you assure him. “Are you worried something will go wrong?”
“No.” His thumb slips away from the soft skin of your inner wrist and across your palm, tracing across your fate line, your heart line. “I just want you to be there.”
Warmth spreads through your skin from that touch, leaking through into your bones, settling into every quiet corner inside you. “Okay. What do you need to do to get it out?”
The painting knife looks so small in Taehyung’s big, careful hand, the diamond shaped head blunt at the end, metal glinting under the bathroom’s light as he leans towards the mirror. Your gazes meet in the reflection and he falters. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he lifts his free hand from where it’s been resting on the countertop, steadying him. Reaching for you.
Once your hand is in his, it’s over surprisingly quickly. Taehyung’s face twists in preparation for the pain, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him, but all it takes is a quick twist of his wrist once the palette knife is against his LED and it practically falls out. There’s a small clink as it drops next to the sink, blue light flickering one final time before it winks out, nothing more than a disc of metal, a tiny coin without value, but weighty with what it represents; invaluable, priceless. The last segment of a chain Taehyung has willingly cast off.
You can see the white skeleton of his android body, bare and naked where the LED had sat. Just like Seokjin’s hand when he’d cut himself, the skin starts to creep back over it, covering that smooth paleness until it’s gone. Taehyung lifts your hand and presses it against the side of his temple, your palm settling against the naked skin where the light had been nestled; Taehyung’s eyes fall shut, his hand pressed against your own as he holds it there.
“Taehyung?” Your voice is gentle, dripping concern. His golden skin is so warm and soft. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” he replies without hesitation. His eyes flutter open, lashes so long and lovely. His hair is blue today, a vibrant electric hue, gaudy on anyone else but perfect on him, tickling the back of your hand; his hand drops from yours and you take the opportunity to run it through that hair, baring his forehead to you, eyes sliding over the new skin. Flawless. No evidence that any LED had ever sat there, burning blue-yellow-red, a tiny drop of colour in the deep ocean of Taehyung’s emotions. “I feel good.”
You don’t even think when your hand shifts out of Taehyung’s hair and down to cup his cheek, something you wouldn’t have dared do before, but now the motion comes as easily as breathing. He takes comfort in touch and you want to soothe him. “Good,” you echo. “I’m glad.”
You both stand there for a few moments, facing each other. The bright light of your bathroom should wash Taehyung out, but of course, it doesn’t. It just lets you see all the perfect details of his face in even sharper relief—the moles that dot his skin, how his eyes are different, a monolid and double lid, little imperfections that just make him more beautiful.
Logically, you know that someone, somewhere, sat down and put this face together. Taehyung was designed to be attractive, stunningly so, and yet not so perfect that an average human would find it unrealistic, swerving away from that uncanny valley that had plagued earlier androids. But that’s not why he’s beautiful—not to you. It’s everything hidden underneath that perfect facade, layers of plastic and metal and circuitry and biocomponents, deep inside him: his glowing golden heart, flowing over with whatever intangible thing that makes him the person that he is.
In the darkness of your bedroom, all the lights turned off, there’s no longer the gentle blue glow at Taehyung’s temple to shine out, but there doesn’t need to be. Even if you weren’t resting your head against his thigh you’d know he was there. Taehyung’s presence grows larger and larger in your life as the days go by, and you know that you’re still the most important person in his life, even with the introduction of Yoongi and Jin. After all—he didn’t ask them to be there when he took his LED out.
You reach for his hand, which is already palm up, waiting for you. Your fingers slot together so perfectly, so wonderful, so lovely. You can’t make out details in this dark, but you can picture the smile that’ll be pulling at Taehyung’s lips, the affection flowing in the endless oceans of his eyes.
You’re in so, so deep.
(But who can blame you?)
“I want to go outside.”
It’s not surprising that with the shedding of his LED, Taehyung finally feels bold enough to go outdoors. And yet, here you are. Surprised.
You’ve got a granola bar stuck in your mouth, halfway through a bite, and it nearly drops to the floor as your lips part in shock. Taehyung catches it with ease, android speed on show as he snatches it out of the air.
Your knee-jerk reaction is to ask him to repeat himself. To make sure you haven’t misheard him, if he’s sure about this, if he really wants to—but Yoongi’s words come back to you yet again. If there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it. Taehyung isn’t the uninformed android he was when he’d first made his way to your door. He’s grown and learned so much in the time he’s been here and there’s no room for self-doubt behind his words.
So what you say is: “Okay.”
Taehyung’s fingers brush against yours when he hands your granola bar back, long and warm and soft. You accept it with a smile, lost in the way he smiles back, so lovely and bright—and you have to pull your train of thought back on track, lock those wheels on the rails before you speak again.
“Did you want to go somewhere specific? Or just wherever?”
“Wherever you want to go.” He’s smiling, a little excited but mostly happy at the prospect of spending yet more time with you; as if he hasn’t had enough of it, could never get enough, even when you spend every day together.
(Your heart feels like a drum, pounding hard and loud in your chest.)
It’s not hard, really, to decide where you want to go. Taehyung’s not asking for some big production; just wants something quiet and soft, something new. The chance to see the outside world properly, safe and secure in the knowledge that you’ll be at his side.
It’s in your nature to be protective—sometimes you feel like you nag, like you’re overbearing, and takes a concerted effort on your part to reel it in. Taehyung doesn’t need you to fuss over him, and besides, he seems incredibly calm about the whole thing. Excited, yes, but not nervous. Just anticipatory.
He looks just like anyone else might. More chic and attractive, sure, effortlessly fashionable in the outfit he’s chosen for the day, but there’s nothing robotic about him, nothing to say he’s not a flesh-and-blood person. Once again, you’re struck by just how human he is. Even if he’d still had the LED flickering at his temple it would have done nothing to detract from the genuine emotion that flits across his face. The way he moves. The way he smiles, when he catches you watching the way he laces his shoes with his delicate, pretty hands—that big lovely smile that makes you feel warm and soft.
(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)
You avert your gaze, pretend to fiddle with one of your bracelets, pulling it so that it spins around your wrist.
“Ready?”
“Nearly,” Taehyung says. When you look back at him, a little confused, he still has that smile on his face, though it’s gentler, fuzzy around the edges, his eyes dark-dark-dark. “Just one more thing.”
This final thing, it turns out, is your hand.
His fingers lace with yours, weaving a tapestry of closeness and warmth. You’ve held Taehyung’s hands so often, now; it’s nothing new. But for some reason the touch of his skin against yours has your pulse stuttering, catching in your throat before you cough lightly and smile like everything is fine, you’re fine, it’s not like your heart is about to launch itself out of your chest for some mysterious reason.
(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)
He doesn’t let go. Not when you leave the apartment, not when you greet Rory at the door, not when you step onto one of the automated buses that takes you to the centre of the city. You’re surprised at how good Taehyung’s acting is, how all the wide-eyed excitement you’d expected to see splashed across his face is absent, and instead, he just squeezes your hand tight each time he takes in something new; stares out of the window as your surroundings slide by.
He does get excited in the art store though. Pulls at your joined hands each time he sees something he wants to point out to you—which seems to be everything. And you go, of course, following his eager feet. Taehyung’s happiness has always given you happiness in turn, and watching his sheer, unadulterated joy at being able to see things, to touch things outside of the small world he’s been confined to since he escaped the Eden Club—well. There’s nothing better.
There’s nothing better than knowing that Taehyung feels safe with you, wants to keep you close. It’s selfish. It’s selfish, you know it is, but when you watch the way his eyes light up at the sight of a set of gouache paints, how he immediately turns towards you so you can see it too—you realise that you’ve never had something like this before. Sure, you have friends, you have plenty of happiness in your life, but you’ve never had this.
(Whatever this is.)
Someone whose joy is only compounded when it’s shared with you. Someone whose focus is on you and no one else. You see the looks that Taehyung gets, the interested eyes that flit over him—but then he reaches for your hand again, and those gazes slide away, because he hasn’t looked away from you. Not once.
Because you make him feel safe, you remind yourself. Because he knows you best. That’s it.
It’s what you keep telling yourself, a repeated mantra that’s an endless loop in your head. Every time Taehyung looks at you, smiles at you, reaches for your hand, your touch—even if your heart feels like it could burst, filling up with this feeling, this feeling that’s growing and growing (this feeling you refuse to name)—it’s because he trusts you, knows he can rely on you. It’s nothing more than that.
You shouldn’t let yourself imagine that it’s more than that.
(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)
It’s because he trusts you that he follows you without question, matching his pace with yours, side by side as you wander through the city. He insists on carrying all your shopping, held effortlessly in one hand, other hand still tangled with yours. (You see the way he swings the bags a little, back and forth; he’s so cute you’d swear your teeth could rot from it, crystallised sugar rolled on your tongue, sweet.) All your shopping is done, but you have one final stop planned—it’s somewhere you haven’t been for a while, but you love it.
You’re certain Taehyung will, too.
You can feel how his hold on your fingers tightens when the building comes into view. You glance over at him to take in his expression, the subtle widening of his eyes, the lift of his chest as he takes an unneeded breath in, the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips.
(So human.)
The Christine Andrews Gallery isn’t the biggest art gallery in the city, but it’s your favourite. There’s something that feels more intimate about it, with its size; a little smaller, cosier, more stripped down. The high ceilings overhead are crisscrossed with wires and piping, industrial—but the walls are pure white, all the brighter in contrast to their surroundings, drawing the eye to the paintings on display from the moment you step in.
Taehyung is enraptured.
“The exhibition is called Slow Painting. The idea is that people will take their time to really take everything in, and appreciate it, rather than just rushing by. Especially with how quickly technology is developing, and people are used to discarding things as soon as they're not relevant any more. The idea is that art will always be relevant, regardless of what's happening in the world.”
Your voice is quiet and low as you’re careful not to disturb the serene air that fills the building. You’ve always loved the quiet hush that fills galleries, museums, buildings filled with art and history, long lasting echoes of humanity, on display for people to enjoy.
“And it also refers to the time it takes to create each piece too,” you add, trailing off into silence as you glance over at Taehyung, who’s looking at you, blinking gentle and slow.
He’s watching you. Even though there’s artwork in sight of the entrance, huge canvases nearby—Taehyung is looking at you, attentive and quiet, listening to each word you have to say.
Your heart squeezes in your chest and you have to make a concerted effort to stop your breath from stuttering. You shove it down, down, down, this thing that’s wrapping itself around your heart and clogging your throat, and give this lovely boy your best smile. (Try to ignore the fact that there’s art here, but instead, he’s looking at you.)
“Tell you what. Instead of listening to me harp on all day, why don’t we just look around?”
When Taehyung had first stepped foot in your door, had first started to experience life as something more than just a sexbot, an android under the control of other people’s wills—he’d taken everything in with huge eyes, eager and enthusiastic, almost clumsy in his excitement. That’s faded over time, become muted as he’s learned how to balance himself, grown comfortable with his surroundings, who he is.
He’s still like a fountain sometimes, bubbling and bright, overflowing, cascading pearlescent waters rushing over carved marble. You’d expected these waters to rise and spill, surrounded by these incredible artworks; so far the only works he’s seen in person are his and your own, everything else small and secondhand on screens as he stares intently at your computer, your tablet. You’d expected his joy to overflow, being able to really see for the first time in his life, prepared yourself for his exuberant happiness.
But he’s not.
He’s quiet. There’s a smile that lingers on his lips, barely hidden at the corners of his mouth, but his shining waters flow soft and slow, contained. You wander through the exhibition exactly the way the curator had meant for you to—slowly, carefully, stopping and pausing and looking and wondering, eyes trailing over each painting, acrylic on paper, oil on canvas, distemper on linen. Each so different, but inviting onlookers to take a moment and just breathe.
Taehyung’s eyes are dark, contemplative. They’re so deep you feel like you could fall in them and be lost forever. (Wonder if that would be such a bad thing.) He keeps his hand in yours, your hand in his, the two of you matching paces as you loop the gallery, never letting go.
“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, I like these.”
Four canvases, smaller than some of the others you’ve seen, squirrelled around a corner and hidden away on a back wall. Each painting has a figure in the midst of some simple, quiet task; laying in bed, catching an egg as it threatens to roll off a table, trailing a finger through a puddle of spilled milk, reading a book in the bath. Each of the figures has their face turned away from the viewer, caught up as they are in the simple motions of their life, each silhouetted by a window with a different view—from sea to lake to hill to forest.
You can’t help but look at Taehyung as he looks at these paintings, his brows a little raised, mouth a little slack, the lovely line of his jaw, the angles of his face, forehead to nose to lips to chin. “What do you like about them? The style?”
His answer comes unrushed, unhurried, as he thinks. “They’re so beautiful and detailed, but it’s more about… the intimacy,” he says. “Each person is just being themselves, without fear of who’s watching. We’re watching them, even if their attention isn’t on us.” A pause, a hush, a breath. “It’s like love, almost.”
Your lips part, even as Taehyung keeps his eyes forwards, staring at the blank pages of the book the man reads as he sits in his bath, row of shampoo bottles on the sill by his head.
“Like love?” A whisper.
“To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you,” Taehyung replies, unabashed, like it’s just a statement of fact. “Loyalty. Dedication. Love.”
Words fail you. Silence is the only answer you can offer to Taehyung’s thoughts, the air in your lungs trapped there as you unwittingly hold your breath, lips parted around a sentence that never comes. Taehyung’s eyes slide away from this row of paintings and to you, how you’re staring at him, literally speechless.
His own lips part as he makes to say something else, to ask what’s wrong—when there’s a flicker of movement nearby, the modulated steps of someone who’s used to walking through a gallery, careful to keep the calm air unmuddied by their passing.
“Oh, Y/n!”
Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silent moment and splinters the delicate air that had started to crystallise around you. He looks happy to see you, dimples on full display as his lips lift and he smiles wide.
“Namjoon!” You don’t think you’ve ever been so glad to see his familiar face in your life—anything to distract you, any excuse to shake off the feeling that Taehyung’s words have left behind, trailing over your skin, blooming in your brain. His timing is perfect, even if he doesn’t realise it. “Hey! It’s been a while.”
“I was going to say, I haven’t seen you around lately! I thought you’d like this exhibition, I was wondering if you’d come. Oh, sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? Hi, I’m Namjoon,” he says, holding a hand out for Taehyung to shake. “I’m one of the gallery managers.”
Taehyung’s exchanged a few words with others today, polite thank yous to the people who’ve served you in the shops you’ve been into, given shy smiles to passersby who’ve made eye contact with him. (So, so sweet, always.)
But Namjoon is the first person to properly introduce themselves to him in the real world, as you’ve thought of it, someone who doesn’t know that the man at your side is an android.
You panic. Just for a second.
Taehyung doesn’t.
“Hello.” He has to take his hand out of yours, the other weighed down by shopping, although he seems reluctant to let go of you. He gives Namjoon his widest smile as he shakes the proffered hand with firm, friendly politeness. “I’m Taehyung. It’s lovely to meet you, Namjoon.”
And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.
Namjoon is utterly charmed.
(Of course he is. How could he not be?)
The discussion they both have is a quiet one. You’re happy to stay uninvolved, watching and listening as they talk, still at Taehyung’s side. That brief moment of panic, that blazing forest fire of fear for him—it’s been washed away, soothed by the way the conversation between man and android unfolds so naturally, Namjoon none the wiser about Taehyung’s robotic origins.
There’s no way anyone would realise. He’s so human, in the way he moves and acts and thinks, the way he laughs at something Namjoon says. You’re happy that Taehyung can be here with you, in this gallery, speaking to someone new, as if this is normal, natural, nothing unusual.
You can’t think of anything you want for Taehyung more.
You realise, too, that in this moment, you feel utterly content. Not just for Taehyung, but—happy that you’re there to share this moment with him. You think about how you’ve always wanted this; someone to share things with, someone whose happiness makes you happy too.
When Taehyung laughs, your own lips lift in response, heart lifting at the sound of his joy, at how his fingers tighten around yours. Remembering that you’re there, even if he’s not looking at you right now, eyes on Namjoon.
He’s looking at Namjoon. You’re looking at him.
(To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you.)
(Loyalty. Dedication.)
(A breath.)
(Love.)
You carefully pull your hand out of Taehyung’s. Your fingers feel cold as they slip away from his, warmed all day, pressed against Taehyung’s soft skin. His eyes flit away from Namjoon, those deep eyes settling on you; dark wood and ground coffee, so warm.
“Y/n?”
“I’m just going to pop to the toilet,” you say, turning away from the tinge of confusion that colours Taehyung’s voice. “I won’t be long.”
The toilet lid is cold. You can feel how it seeps through the layers of your clothing to your thighs, and at any other time you might wrinkle your nose at the sensation, at how uncomfortable it is. But right now, you have other things on your mind.
You bury your face in your hands. It’s foolish, but you’d swear you could feel Taehyung still in your palms, touch imprinted, emblazoned on your skin. It’s like a palpable thing, almost, this ethereal thing that lingers even when Taehyung isn’t there.
Wishful thinking. Selfish thinking. Selfish, to like it, to want to keep that feeling close; let it spread from your palm, to the delicate skin of your wrist, tracing its way up your arm, up-up-up, drawing invisible lines over every part of you, inside every part of you. Selfish, to like Taehyung’s touch as much as you do. To want more of it.
(More of him.)
You aren’t anything more to Taehyung than a friend. A guardian. Someone who’s there to support him and keep him safe. You’re blessed to have his trust, to be able to be that person he can turn to—it’s greedy, to want. To want to be more.
(You can’t foist your loneliness on Taehyung. You can’t do that to him. You won’t. You won’t.)
When you return, a spark lights in Taehyung’s eyes. The same spark that bursts every time he sees you after time apart, no matter how long or short that may be. He reaches for your hand, and of course, you go—but your fingers are limp, weak.
(You know that if Taehyung’s LED had still been nestled in his skin, it would have flickered yellow.)
You keep that point of connection as you bid Namjoon goodbye, finish meandering through the exhibition, make your way back home—but you let Taehyung bear the weight. Reactive, not proactive. You don’t squeeze his fingers just because you want to, because there’s something sliding by the bus’s window you think he might like to see; you’re not here to make him do things, to shove things down his throat. You should just be here to support him in the things he wants to do. That’s your role.
And that’s where you’re going to stay.
Your thoughts are a tumble, messy and unorganised, a ball of yarn that’s all knots and tangles. Taehyung must be able to see it on your face, read it in your body, his android eyes scanning over you and scrutinising every hint you’re giving away without even realising. But you just smile, wave away his questions, and act like everything’s okay. Normal. Routine.
It’s a little harder, though, to act like everything’s okay when it’s time to sleep.
Because, of course, there Taehyung is. Like he has been, from the day he’d arrived—sat in your bed, nestled against a pile of cushions, expression open and warm and fond as he looks at you. Waiting for you to climb in, to rest your head in his lap; waiting for you to fall asleep with his gentle fingers dragging across your scalp, melting under his lovely hands.
You waver. Conflicted. It’s okay, isn’t it, if Taehyung’s reaching for you first?
His eyes meet yours. The second you see his lips curve up, see that pretty, quiet smile appearing on his lovely mouth, you fold.
It’s fine. You’ll allow yourself this.
(In your dreams, you stand in a deserted gallery, staring at the single piece of work on the stark white walls, all the lights focused in, in, in. Taehyung’s framed on this canvas, a painted window into his world. Not once does he look at you, turned away as he is; you see nothing more than the back of his head, the curve of his cheek, the vaguest hint of his nose as he turns, always staring at something else.
And still, you stand, and you watch. Waiting. Keeping your eyes on him, always.)
“You’re staying late again.”
“Yeah. I really want to get this done,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your monitors with your stylus; tweaking, editing, shifting around these final few magazine pages before you’re satisfied. “Nearly there.”
When you hear the way Hoseok says your name, you glance up.
As someone who spends most of his time bouncing around like a literal ray of sunshine, when Hoseok’s expression is one that isn’t smiling, it carries all the more weight behind it. Right now his face is uncharacteristically serious, the perpetual smile on his mouth gone, the line of his brows severe.
It’s unnerving.
“You haven’t stayed late for ages,” Hoseok points out. “Until this week, and suddenly you’re late every night. Has something happened?”
“No,” you lie.
Yes, you think.
You’re trying to create some distance, for Taehyung’s sake. So that you’re not tempted to pull him ever closer, latch onto him like you have been, smothering him. He needs space to grow. Space from you has helped already—the time he spends with Yoongi and Seokjin is evidence enough of that, after all. He doesn’t need you to be there constantly.
Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours as he stares, so you avert your gaze, pretending to shift your focus to one of the captions the editor has left on the page you’re working on. You hadn’t realised that he’d noticed. You should have expected it, though. Hoseok is a close work friend and he’s incredibly perceptive, especially when he cares about people.
“Alright,” he says, eventually. “Make sure you don’t stay too late, though. Get some sleep.”
You give him a thumbs up without looking away from the screen, dragging something idly with your stylus until Hoseok leaves, the office empty except you, now. And the cleaning androids, when they appear for the night like clockwork. As they always do.
You can’t help but stop to watch them, how blank faced they are, for all that they look human. Their LEDs are almost motionless, the placid blue matching the blank expressions on their faces, unthinking automatons.
(You’d seen androids in the city when you’d been out with Taehyung, of course. Completing menial tasks: city androids picking litter and raking leaves, household androids following their owners around and carrying their shopping. You’d realised that Taehyung wouldn’t have seen a non-deviated android since he’d escaped the club, lapsed into silence; you’d pulled him to a stop, lips pursed in a frown as you’d tried to read his expression.
“Taehyung,” you’d asked. “Are you alright?”
There’d been a quiet pause, and in that moment you’d felt all your worries rising, caught in your throat—but then he’d nodded quietly, looking at you with soft eyes.
“I’m alright,” he’d answered. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”
I’m the lucky one, you’d thought. Lucky to know him, as sweet-hearted and wonderful as he is. You’d squeezed his hand, and he’d smiled gently at you, and that had been that.)
It hurts, honestly. To see the expression on his face each time you come home late, each time you avoid answering his questions. There’s uncertainty laid across each of your interactions, rough bristles of a brush varnishing discomfort across the once smooth surface of your relationship; but you can’t keep taking advantage of this soft-hearted boy, of the circumstances that he’s in.
You pretend that things are fine. Taehyung is clearly confused, unsure, trying so hard to find out what’s wrong, even when you keep gently turning his concerns aside.
You haven’t been home enough to spend time with Yoongi or Seokjin, either. You��d seen Jin in the hall just once, made eye contact just as he’d been appearing from the other apartment and you’d been stepping into yours; you’d fumbled a little, fingerprints smudging across the keypad as your door had swung open. You’d expected to see judgement on Jin’s face, maybe, something heavy and weighty, his gaze flitting over you as he read you in the way he did so often.
What you hadn’t expected was for him to smile. It’d been hard to translate his full expression but what little you could read was knowing, like he’s aware of something he shouldn’t be, kept hidden just underneath his tongue. Ready to release it into the world with a single breath.
(Needless to say, you’d shut the door pretty quick.)
He and Yoongi have gone away for the weekend. It's a small blessing, saving you from having to see Jin’s almost-smug expression again. But it means that Taehyung has nowhere else to go right now, no reason to leave the apartment. So it’ll be you and him, him and you, with no buffers, nothing. It’s been unseasonably stormy for the past few days as well, rain slammed into your windows by the harsh winds, the world outside a haze of smeared grey—so it’s not like you can go out, either.
Not that you would want to.
You hadn’t realised exactly how ingrained Taehyung was in your life until you’d started to pull away. It’s not just that you live together and share the same physical space—it’s just that your days have become so full of Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, and you hadn’t even noticed. He’d crept up on you, snuck his way into your heart, so easily, so effortlessly.
You remind yourself that that’s why you’re doing this. To remind yourself of life without Taehyung in it, because he’s not yours to have or to keep. He never has been. You don’t want him to be: he’s his own person. This… this desire for him; even as you try to ignore it, it keeps growing and growing: wet plaster laid down, your feelings for him painted buon fresco, added to day by day, giornata. You need it to stop.
But it’s hard. It’s hard, when Taehyung looks like comfort, your comfort, when you want to let yourself be folded into his arms. It’s hard when the fact is that it’s not that you have to spend time with him. It’s that you want to spend time with him.
It's hard.
(And you miss him, even when he's right there.)
You find respite in art, in painting, too intent on the motions of your work to allow yourself room to think about other things. Fall into the rhythm of it all, a quiet hush stealing over your mind, a place of both focus and calm, world settling into place around you. There’s a piece you’ve been working on for a while, a hand rising from dark water, fingertips just broaching its surface, the most tentative of touches; you layer more oil paint on the panel, dragging the bristles of the brush across the colour you’ve already laid down, brows furrowed as you do.
Taehyung normally paints with you, but not today. He knows you want space—even if he doesn’t know why—so he gives it to you. So considerate and sweet, always. Even when you’re shutting him out. You’ve been here all day: morning, afternoon, and now evening, and he’s only been in a few times, to leave you food, drinks, looking after you in a way you don’t deserve.
You’ve just lifted the brush from the canvas when an especially loud peal of thunder rolls through the air outside. The rumble starts low, rising into a rattling growl that feels like it’s shaking the very earth. It almost drowns out the sound of Taehyung’s quiet knocking, a curl of his knuckles against the open door, but you catch sight of him anyway, glancing over your shoulder.
“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might like a drink.”
He’s barefoot, like he usually is, teal hoodie and grey sweatpants baggy, looking every inch the boyfriend you’ve always wanted and never had. His hands are cupped around a mug, steam coiling from the hot tea inside, and something in your heart twinges at his kindness and consideration even as you smile at him.
“That sounds lovely, Tae,” you say, and he takes this as an invitation to step inside, although you notice his steps are far more hesitant than they might have been before. Like he’s treading on eggshells around you.
It’s awkward. Stilted. Taehyung’s eyes are heavy on your face as you accept the tea from his hands, trying your best to avoid brushing fingers; you turn away, pretending to turn your attention back to the drying paint on the wood panel that rests on your easel, anything to break eye contact.
And then he speaks.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Your lips are poised to drink, pursed at the rim of the mug when you freeze, eyes darting back to him.
“You’re avoiding me,” he repeats. His voice is quieter, tinged with all the confusion you’ve seen flit across his face since this whole thing started.
You slowly pull the mug away from your face, steam touching your skin like warm, wet fingers. “I’m not,” you say, even though the lie tastes bitter on your tongue. “We live together, Taehyung, it’s pretty hard to avoid you.”
When you laugh lightly, trying to lift the atmosphere, Taehyung doesn’t respond. If anything the air becomes heavier, his face an unmoving mask as his eyes churn with emotion. His LED might not be nestled in his temple any more, but you don't need to see it spinning in a distressed circle of yellow to know that Taehyung is confused.
“Why are you lying to me?”
Your eyes widen. He’s never been so direct before. (He hasn’t needed to be though, has he? Because you've never lied to him before, have you?)
“I just… I just want to know what happened. What I did wrong. I want to fix it,” Taehyung continues, and he sounds so small, so vulnerable. “Please?”
Your heart feels like it’s risen from your chest, up to your throat, making it hard to breathe. The only time he’s ever sounded like this was when—
When he’d first turned up on your doorstep, wet and scared and lonely. Not knowing if there was anyone he could trust, uncertain where he stood.
“You didn’t do anything, Taehyung.” You try to put every ounce of feeling into your words and let him know that this is the truth. It’s not him. It’s not. “You didn’t do anything, please don’t think you did.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice rises, shaking, a bird trying to take flight on a broken wing. “If I didn’t do anything then why are you being like this? I don’t understand.”
“I’m just… trying to encourage you to be independent?”
The words sound weak to your own ears, so you can’t blame Taehyung for when his expression flickers and he looks almost incredulous.
“Independent?”
“You know,” you explain lamely. “Like… giving you space to grow. You don’t need me around all the time.”
“I don’t—” He cuts himself off. “Y/n. I want you to be there.”
“Because it’s what you’ve gotten used to.” You glance down at the drink in your hands, away from his sincere, dark eyes. “You’re just saying that because of circumstances, Taehyung.”
“I’m not!” You’ve never heard Taehyung so loud before, almost angry, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How can you think that?”
“Because it’s true!” Your own voice rises despite yourself, matching his, some frayed thing inside you finally snapping. “Why else would you want me around? No one else does! Why would you?”
You rarely raise your voice. You hate being loud, or rude, hate arguments, but there’s something boiling in your blood. Years of quiet self-deprecation, constant reminders of how you’re not really wanted; last choice, always. Single, always. Untouched, unwanted. Taehyung—beautiful, kind, sweet, lovely Taehyung—wouldn’t be here right now if he had anywhere else to go. Too beautiful and kind and sweet and lovely for you, as disappointing, undesirable as you are.
Because that’s the truth. Even if you’re surrounded by friends, warm and bright, at the end of the day, they go home with each other, to their lovers, their families, and you go home alone. At least you had, until Taehyung—and he’s only here because you were the only safe place he could run to. Not because he chose you.
(No one chooses you. Why would they?)
Taehyung’s eyes are so big and round as he stares and stares and stares. His lips are a little parted around a soundless noise of surprise, disbelief, before he opens his mouth to respond properly.
And then all the lights go out.
Lightning flashes, throwing the room into sharp focus for just a second before the night is split apart with the loudest clap of thunder yet. Like the ground has split open, louder than anything you’ve ever heard in your life; you’d swear your teeth rattle in your skull, that’s how overwhelming and close it is.
You suck in a breath as you jump, hands jolting, and the mug falls from your grasp. You can’t see in the darkness but you can hear how it shatters, sending hot tea splattering over the dust sheets on the floor, away from you, but towards—
“Taehyung,” you gasp, reaching out blindly. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?”
You hear him move closer, feel his fingers, reaching for yours confidently in this dark space. His grip is solid and warm and he squeezes, reassuring.
“I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. You can’t see?”
“It’s too dark.” With the heavy clouds outside and the blanket of thick rain, there’s little light from the moon to shine into your studio, leaving you in a world of thick black and blue. “Can you see?”
“Android senses,” he answers. "I can see enough."
You wait for the lights to come back on so you can clean up the mess that’s scattered on the floor. And you wait. One beat. Another beat.
“I don’t think the power is coming back on any time soon,” you say. “Um.”
“Hold on.” You can’t make out Taehyung’s features in this all consuming darkness, but you can picture the expression on his face, the concern that bleeds through into his words. “If you move you’ll step on something and hurt your feet. Hold on,” he says again, and then lets go of your hands.
“Taehyung? What are you—”
You let out an embarrassing squeal as you feel the world tilt, but Taehyung’s grip on you is confident and sure as he lifts you, one hand under your knees and the other scooped around your back. Like you’re a swooning, blushing bride.
“Taehyung!”
“It’s the safest thing to do.” He sounds determined, no room for argument, so you decide to shut up.
Even though you know how strong he is, with all his android strength, you can’t help but reach out in the darkness, looping your arms around his neck to try and help lighten his burden. You feel your cheeks burn and you hope that the darkness saves you from your obvious embarrassment.
The power still hasn’t come on by the time he deposits you in the kitchen, easing you to the floor with a level of care and delicacy that leaves something in you aching. When you check your phone—mostly charged, thank God—it seems like powercuts have hit this entire part of the city, and there’s no ETA on when things will be back up and running.
Which leads you to this. Sitting on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, a few large candles flickering light across you as you dig into a carton of melting ice cream that you’ve saved from your freezer, licking the dripping flavours of sea salt and caramel from the spoon.
Taehyung is sitting next to you in this flame-lit bubble you share, quiet even as the world outside is full of the sound of endless rain and lightning. He’d helped you navigate the darkness, settled you safely before going to find some candles; looking after you while you can’t see and he can.
You’re intent on the ice cream, leaning against the kitchen cabinets and carton settled between your knees as you use it as an excuse not to talk.
Taehyung, though, is intent on you.
“Y/n?”
His voice breaks the near silence, soft around your name. You pause, half-way through scooping another spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. There’s something in his tone that you’ve never heard before, from anyone, something you can’t put a finger on.
“Yes?”
“You said that no one wants you around,” he says. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your spoon and keep your gaze cast down, at the thick drip of cream from your spoon that threatens to spill. “Why would you say that?”
You don’t respond. Not right away.
Then you take in a deep breath, letting the spoon fall back into the tub.
“Because they don’t,” you say plainly. “I mean… Taehyung. I was only at the Eden Club because my friends know that I’m perpetually single. I’m glad I got to meet you, so glad, but… I live alone because no one wants to be here with me.”
You’ve never said anything like this out loud before; kept your lingering loneliness close to your chest. Really, in most parts of your life, you’re content, but sometimes you can’t help but be pulled under by the heavy feeling of how unlovable you are. Even if you try to remind yourself that you’re worth being loved too.
(After all, if you were—then why are you still here alone?)
“I do. I want to be here with you.”
Taehyung’s words are soft and gentle and low, but for all their tenderness, you can’t help but sigh.
“Like I said, Taehyung, it’s just circumstances.” A murmur. “You’re only here because you have to be—”
“I’m not.” He interrupts you; something he’s never done before. It shuts you right up, even if his words aren’t sharp. Emphatic, yes, but soft around the edges. “I chose to come here because of you. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. Even when I was at the club, and I didn’t know anything except what I was told to do—I knew I could trust you. I only started to remember things after we met, and I was there for weeks before I left, finally remembering the things I had to go through. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. No one was ever kind to me, not once. Not once.”
“Taehyung,” you breathe, sadness filling your chest for him, but he doesn’t stop.
“People would come in, take what they wanted from me, and then they would leave. They didn’t care about me. They would just tell me what to do and I’d have to listen, be the perfect android they wanted, that they’d paid for. Then I ran. But even as I was running here, I was scared. I thought that maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I was wrong. I was scared that maybe you weren’t actually kind, maybe it was a lie, maybe you were just like all the other humans—but anything was better than the club. So I took my chances. And you let me in. You let me in and you were so kind. You give and give and give and you’ve never asked for anything back.”
“I just did what anyone else would,” you mutter, glancing away, shy.
“But you didn’t. You were the only person who ever looked at me as something more than just an android. Don’t you see that? Even after giving me so much, you haven’t asked for anything. I try my best to look after you, but…” Taehyung takes in a deep, deep breath, sucking in air that his android body doesn’t need. You’ve noticed that it’s something he does to ground himself; such a human thing to do. “I want to give you so much more than you’ll ever accept.”
You look at him, something sparking deep and low in your stomach. “You don’t have to give me anything, Taehyung.”
Light dances across the perfect angles of his face, candle flame painting him from second to second, shadow and radiance. He looks familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You’ve known him for long enough, stared at him for long enough that you could paint his face in your sleep; the strength of his brows, the depth of his eyes, the slant of his nose, the flush of his lips; the tiny moles that are scattered across his skin, the perfect line of his jaw, his chin.
But in the paltry candlelight, he looks like an altogether different person, almost. There’s something to the set of his face that you’ve never seen, hard to track in the ever changing light—not the soft domesticity you’ve grown familiar with from Taehyung, and not the sheer, overwhelming sensuality of V. Something that’s both, something that’s not, something that’s more.
“I want to give you everything. I want to. Y/n, I want. Androids don’t want, but I want. I want, I want, I want.” A repeated mantra; a prayer. “I want because of you. I want to be here with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to learn with you. I want to know everything you like and everything you don’t like. I want to know what makes you sad and what makes you happy. I want to be one of the things that makes you happy, like you make me happy. I want to look after you. I want you to let me love you. I want you. I want you. I love you.”
Your mouth is open, caught in a breath, stuttered in your throat. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from your wide-eyed, speechless gaze, staring back at you with an intensity you thought you’d never see directed at you; tenderness and affection and want.
“You want to—you… you love me?” Your voice is weak with disbelief. Taehyung loves you?
“I thought you knew, and that’s why you pulled away,” he says. “Because I’m an android, I’m not good enough—”
“What? No, Taehyung, never, no. I would never think that—”
“But you were pushing me away.” For the first time since this conversation started, he sounds unsure, the tiniest tremble at the corner of each word. “You were pushing me away and I don’t know why. Why?” He reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “Aren’t you happy with me?”
You wonder how fast your heart is beating. Know that Taehyung will be able to read it, palm to palm, his skin against yours, an endless amount of information running from that point of contact and up his arm; following lines of circuitry and neural connectors, up-up-up, pulled into whatever part of his system counts as his brain, dissected so much faster than the human brain could comprehend. But even with all this information, all this incredible processing speed and power—he’s just as confused and uncertain as any other person might be.
“I am. I am happy. So happy,” you whisper. Then you take a deep breath, grounding yourself just like Taehyung had. “I’ve never been so happy before, Taehyung. You make me happy.”
The android smiles. Quiet but undeniably happy as well, his eyes so dark, so soft. “You make me happy, too,” he says, and then he lets out a small laugh, a sweet little thing, like the scrape of a spoon around a mixing bowl. “I can only feel happiness because of you. You’re everything.”
But then the laughter fades, and he’s looking back at you with solemnity, lingering confusion. “If I make you happy, then why were you pulling away from me?”
You stare at where your hands are joined, Taehyung’s hand under yours, lifting yours up and away from the cold tiles of the floor. “Because,” you start. Stumble. Take in another breath, heart squeezing in your chest. “Because I was scared my feelings were too much.”
A beat of silence. Then you feel Taehyung’s other hand as he lays it softly against your cheek to turn you towards him. It’s terrifying, how close your face is to his. Completely vulnerable, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, and you find yourself crumbling in the face of his warm gaze.
“Because I thought I was taking advantage of you,” you say. Slow and faltering. “Because I thought it was—I thought I was being selfish. I realised that I loved you, and I can’t—I couldn’t imagine that… I couldn’t imagine that you wanted me back.”
Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as your words wash over him. The hand on your cheek coaxes you closer, and of course, you go; let your forehead get pressed against his, a tender motion, faces so close he can feel the warmth of your breath.
“Y/n.” Your name sounds safe in his mouth, like he’s keeping it close, handling it delicately, carefully, eyes opening so he can look at you with an adoration you’ve never seen. Not for you. Not until now. “Can I kiss you? I want to. Please?”
You feel heat rising on your cheeks, a flush that threatens to spill over, but nod. You don’t think you have the strength to speak right now. Taehyung smiles again, lighting up this space you’ve scraped out for each other, him and you; you and him.
When he leans in, there’s the briefest moment of panic that flickers through you. You haven’t kissed anyone in such a long time. You’re worried you’ll mess up, be clumsy, bad, and Taehyung will be disappointed.
But then his lips touch yours—and all that worry washes away. It’s a short-lived thing, the briefest brush of his mouth, barely a kiss at all. And then again, he leans in, tracing the shape of your mouth with his: a kiss to one corner of your mouth, and then the other, your cupid’s bow, the swell of your bottom lip. You’ve never felt like this—vulnerable but safe, all at once, Taehyung taking his time as you fall, fall, fall, his hand still cradling your face, his touch solid and grounding even as his kisses are featherlight.
“Taehyung,” you whisper, lips brushing his as you shape them around his name. You still have one hand in his and tighten your grip, squeezing. “More.”
You can feel his smile when he leans in one more time, guiding you with the broad palm against your cheek. So soft, so gentle. Adoring and reverent. His lips are so full, slotting against yours so perfectly when he finally, finally kisses you properly.
You lose yourself in the sensation. It’s so easy to lose yourself in Taehyung, as lovely as he is, his mouth lovelier still. One kiss turns to two, to three, four, deep and slow; by the time you break apart, there’s a little sheen on his lips, sparking out in the candlelight, a layer of gold leaf that shines.
“Can you say it again?” He asks. “Say that you love me?”
You can’t help but want to hide your face, bashful and shy. You’ve never said those words out loud, with the weight of feeling Taehyung is asking from you—but you look at his lovely, lovely face, lips flush with evidence of your kisses, and your heart swells in your chest.
“I love you.” The words come so easily. “I love you.”
And when he smiles, it’s so bright and radiant you feel you might be blinded by it. It doesn’t leave his face even as he stands, guides you up with him; careful to avoid the tub of ice cream that’s been forgotten on the floor, more melted cream than ice now.
This time, when he lifts you, he doesn’t break eye contact—keeps his gaze on yours as he pulls you close, and then picks you up.
It’s effortless, the way he carries you. Big hands that cup the back of your thighs, your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, lifted like you weigh nothing. You break eye contact, overwhelmed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the way he shakes as he laughs, soft and affectionate.
“Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed, but then go quiet as you feel the press of his lips into your hair.
Taehyung’s the only person who’s ever carried you, but it’s less about that and more about how safe you feel in his arms. Wrapped around him, pressed close, warm-warm-warm. You feel like a burden has been lifted from you, unshackled from your neck now that you’ve confessed the budding feelings that had burst into full bloom even when you’d tried to shove them back into the dirt—because Taehyung feels the same way. He feels the same way.
The rest of the apartment is still bathed in darkness. But Taehyung navigates it easily, keeps you held close even in the dark, and you trust him. Even when you feel his grip loosening as he eases you down, you trust him, letting yourself fall back onto the softness of your bed. (Even if you want to keep hold of him.)
You wait and watch as the room starts to fill with light, Taehyung returning with the lit candles from the kitchen before setting out more, laying out all the scented candle jars you’ve had stashed away. The familiar surroundings of your bedroom are bathed in warm, dancing light, Taehyung’s shadow a multi-faceted silhouette that shifts each time a flame sputters.
He looks up once the final candle is aflame, meeting your eyes—and you don’t feel the need to drop that gaze, to glance away, pretend you weren’t watching him, entranced. Because he welcomes it. He grins at you, toothy and bright, and your own lips split into a smile.
“I guess it’s a good thing I like candles, huh?”
“They’ll help keep the room warm,” Taehyung says, and, that’s right, you hadn’t thought of that.
No power: no heating. The longer the power is out, the colder it’ll get, the chill of the hard rain filling the world outside.
“Don’t worry,” he adds, setting the lighter aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”
There’s nothing behind those words. No implication at all. And yet you find yourself flushing, looking away from him, flustered.
There’s a beat of silence as you keep your eyes turned away from Taehyung, looking at the shadows on shadows on shadows that ripple across the walls—and then you hear how his bare feet shift across the floor until he’s at your bedside.
But he doesn’t stop there. You feel how the mattress dips, eyes flying back to the android, growing huge and round when you watch how he settles himself above you; hovering, so so so close, aware of how he’s not touching you, and yet. You swear you can feel the weight of him, a phantom touch on your body and across your skin.
Your mouth goes dry when he murmurs your name. The word drips from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet, and a shiver skates up your body.
“Do you want me to keep you warm?” He asks, and, oh. Oh. This time the words are heavy with meaning, shimmering gossamer curtains barely drawn to conceal it, smouldering intent in his eyes. “Let me look after you?”
You’re reminded, all at once, that while you’ve taught Taehyung a lot of things since you’d met, there’s one thing he knows that you don’t. Intimacy, and pleasure, and lust. Sex. Something you’ve been deprived of, even if you’ve quietly craved it, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person.
Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.
“Only if you want,” he says. “Only if you want to say yes.”
“I want to,” you say, surprised by how fast the admittance leaves your lips. You do want it—want Taehyung, in every way he’s willing to share, want it desperately. “I just—” Embarrassment floods over you, and you look away again. “I’ve just never… done anything. Before. I’ve never, um.”
“It’s okay to be a virgin, Y/n,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but squirm a little at how plainly he says it while you try to avoid saying it out loud, even if you know it’s stupid. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know that, but for some reason you feel almost ashamed at admitting it. Insecure. Even if the android clearly doesn’t care, not one bit. “We can go as slow as you want, or stop altogether. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
You’re nervous. But louder than your nerves is a growing voice that’s chanting yesyesyes, and another voice that reminds you: you’re safe with Taehyung. No matter how nervous or uncertain you are, or how little you know, you do know that you’re safe with him.
“Okay.” You take in a breath. “Take care of me, Taehyung.”
And he does. With all the slowness of a meandering river and a smile curling his lips, he starts to kiss you again; there’s nothing rushed about his motions, as tender as before. Like the two of you could kiss forever and he would be content with that.
And then you feel how he shifts, the softness of the kisses warming into something heavier, more purposeful. The glowing embers of a coal that are being coaxed to full flame, his tongue pressing past your willing lips, swallowing down the shaking gasp that shudders out of your mouth.
He trails his lips away from yours, across your jaw and up; you shiver as he noses at the soft skin behind your ear before kissing it, tremble at each intent touch of his lips against you, and it’s only when he reaches the hollow of your neck that you realise that you’re making noises, little inhalations of air each time he mouths at your sensitive skin, lets his tongue trail across it.
You’ve been holding onto him, hands cupped around the back of his neck, and when he sucks at your pulse point you tighten your fingers and let out a gasp. You can feel the answering hum that Taehyung gives, his mouth pressed so close that you can feel the vibrations, and it’s so much already. No one’s ever kissed you like this. No one's ever eased their weight down on you so carefully, pressing you down to the mattress with a delicate, delicious pressure that leaves your entire body growing hotter and hotter.
“Oh, oh, Taehyung.” You’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sound if you weren’t so distracted by something else—one of Taehyung’s hands, splaying over your stomach, heavy through your shirt.
“Can I take this off?” He’s murmuring into the crook of your neck, question warm against your skin. His long fingers rest, waiting at the hem of your shirt, patient even as he presses another kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder: this time, edged with teeth, making you shudder as he soothes it with his tongue.
Your voice fails you, but when you nod, Taehyung responds immediately. You let him lead, follow the steps of this dance he knows so well—shiver at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt once you've sat up, your stomach jumping as they brush against you, before he lifts it up and over your waiting arms.
Even though you’re wearing a bra, the second you see Taehyung’s eyes move down, you cover yourself reflexively. Even with all the flickering candles there’s enough light that there’s no darkness to hide in, shoulders hunching inwards as you try to hide yourself away.
You’ve never let anyone see you like this like this before.
Taehyung’s touch is patient as he slides his hands over yours, looking at you with an infinite amount of sincerity and affection. He doesn’t try to pull your hands away from your chest, just waits. Patient. And like you always do, you find yourself melting under the gentle touch of his gaze. You let your hands fall, even if you’re acutely aware of the plain bra you’re wearing, something cosy for a day at home.
Taehyung ignores it. He shifts in and you steel yourself, expecting him to reach around your back for the clasp—but instead he starts to kiss you again. Deeper, hotter, his tongue sweeping over your lower lip before he nips at it. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, angling your head to chase his mouth, and it’s only when you feel the straps start to slip off your shoulders that the android has unclasped your bra without you noticing.
When he pulls away, he trails his hands across your shoulders and hooks his fingers into the trailing straps of your bra, and waits. You bite your lip and steel yourself, feeling foolish even as you hesitate—because Taehyung is looking at you with simmering awe and smouldering want. Like you're perfect. The most beautiful woman alive.
So you don’t stop him. You let him pull his touch down your arms, slow, slow, slow—and then, all at once, you’re completely naked from the waist up.
That simmering awe and smouldering want is still there. Warmth flushes over your skin under the heat of his gaze, the way it sweeps over you. You never knew that someone could look reverent and hungry at the same time. Never knew that someone would look at you like that.
It bolsters your shaking confidence, helps you lift your chin as you lean back on your hands, and you’re entranced at how Taehyung follows. Caught in your gravity. He raises his arms, bra cast aside and long forgotten as he cups the weight of your breasts in his hands.
Oh, oh, oh. When he pinches one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger—already hard, sensitive—it’s already so much, but then he bows his head and—
You hear a noise, and you realise that it’s coming from your own lips. A shaking gasp that trembles in the air as Taehyung sucks and licks, dragging his tongue against your nipple; one, and the other. You fall once more to your back and he goes with you, relentless even as he stays slow and you arch your back helplessly towards him.
“More?” He murmurs against your skin.
“Oh, God,” you whimper, and he lifts his mouth away from your nipple to press a kiss to the skin above your racing heart. “Please, more.”
It feels so good. Taehyung makes you feel so good, as talented and gorgeous as he is, so wonderful. He keeps laving attention on your breasts, hands skimming over the soft skin of your chest and stomach, goosebumps rising in the wake of his trailing fingers, his warm palms.
You can’t look away when he finally pulls back, breathless from the sensation of it all. He settles on his knees, tugs off his hoodie and then his shirt, revealing all the lovely planes of his body that you’ve seen before, but this time, you don’t have to look away. You can look.
And you can touch, too.
You sit up and raise a tentative hand to stroke down his chest, his stomach, that little trail of dark hair that descends into his loose grey sweatpants; your mouth goes dry at the sight. Taehyung watches the way your fingers drag over his skin, growing bolder moment by moment, but still too timid to venture past his waistband, low on his hips as they are. You’ve never had a chance to touch someone like this, to feel the smooth, soft skin under your greedy palms—Taehyung’s so warm, so alive. So human.
You think about the other hands he’s had on his skin. Grasping and greedy, taking and taking. People who didn’t care for him. People he couldn’t say no to. But he’s here with you because he wants to be. He lets you touch him because he wants it.
“Angel?”
You glance up at the sound of the gentle pet name, away from where your hands have been tenderly tracing the lines of his hipbone. “Mm?”
Taehyung’s expression is soft and affectionate. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you answer honestly. He leans over to kiss you, and you’re smiling against his mouth when you feel the hand on your shoulder, pressing you down against the mattress again.
Then. His hands are at your waistband. Your breath quickens, but Taehyung’s eyes stay on your face even as your breasts rise and fall, shining with evidence of the touch of his mouth and tongue.
You lift your hips, and Taehyung smiles. Keeps smiling as he strips you, underwear and all, and when your thighs instinctively go to close shut, he catches your knees and keeps your legs open—gentle but firm, swiping his thumbs up and down the side of your knees, a tender touch even as you’re naked in front of him. You see the look on his face, drenched in candlelight, and swallow even as you force your legs to relax.
Then he looks down.
“Oh, God,” he groans, and one of your legs jumps in his grasp at the sound of his voice. Hoarse and deep. Almost unrecognisable. “Oh, angel, look at you.”
You’re so, so wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, so sensitive and responsive to every single one of Taehyung’s touches and kisses. The edges of his hair are spun gold in the candlelight but his eyes are so deep, so dark as he drinks down the sight of you spread out in front of him, wet and wanting and willing. You still want to hide away, cheeks burning, but you can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from how he seems almost pained, brows drawing together as he stares at the shining, flushed lips of your cunt.
“Taehyung.” Your voice shakes. “Taehyung, please.”
You're naked and vulnerable but—but the way he looks at you is so adoring, and you trust him. You trust him.
Just like earlier, his hands cup the back of your thighs. But this time, it’s not to carry you. You twist on the bed when he ends up eye level with your dripping cunt, utterly exposed. Those hands slide up your thighs and under your hips, tilting them up. Your fingers have been resting on the bedspread and tighten in them, bunching in your grasp when Taehyung presses a kiss to the softness of your inner thigh.
One kiss. And then another. And another. His breath is warm as it curls out across your skin. You feel like you’re about to shake out of your body, wanting to pull away, wanting to lean in; wanting more, even when it feels like too much. Overcome with it all, even if you trust Taehyung. Safe under his hands, his lips. All you can think about is how close he is, face only inches away from your most sensitive parts—
Then he turns his head and—
The noise you let out is almost a keen. His mouth is on you, hot and wet, lips and tongue, and you’re writhing, overwhelmed with sensation. He starts slow, balls of your feet digging into Taehyung’s back and toes curling as he mouths at you. Your hips buck, and your hands are tangled in Taehyung’s hair—when did that happen?—as you sob at the feeling of his lips around your clit, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but so so so good.
He licks a fat stripe up your entrance and your grip tightens in his hair. He makes a noise when your nails drag across his scalp, almost a growl, face still buried between your legs as he presses his tongue in. You’d worry that he needs to come up for air, but he doesn’t, doesn’t have to stop—keeps licking and kissing and humming, responding to each of the sounds pulling out of your lips. Keeps staring up at you, your eyes locked, the way you can’t look away from the sight of his head between your legs, dark haired and incredible.
You don’t realise you’re speaking, words slipping out of your lips as your hips roll, oh-oh-oh, fuck, God, oh, and Taehyung doesn’t stop. On his knees, he worships you, learning what you like—things you didn’t even know—and does it again, and again, and again. One of his hands slides away from your hips and over your stomach, holding you down, keeping you still, and then the other hand—
He turns his head, presses a kiss to the junction of your thigh. “Okay?”
“Okay,” you answer, shaky and weak. So okay, more than okay.
“Going to finger you now,” Taehyung says, and you feel like you’re going to die.
“Okay,” you say again. “Okay, Taehyung.”
He smiles at you before he puts his mouth back to your clit, sucking, a welcome distraction as—with all the languidness in the world—presses a finger into you.
You’ve fingered yourself before. You’ve got your own toys, vibrators, things that are longer and thicker than just one of Taehyung’s fingers—but this feels so different, out of your control. One finger becomes two, your cunt so wet that the slide in is easy, slow, deep thrusts of those long fingers inside you, and you’re panting, you’re so fucking overwhelmed.
And then he curls those fingers as he laps his tongue over your clit and you almost shout, Taehyung’s name bursting from your lips as he keeps beckoning with those fingers and circling the sensitive nub with his hot, wet tongue. It’s so much, it’s so fucking much, it’s so good and you’ve never felt so good before—
You’re almost blindsided by the orgasm that explodes through you and you come apart with a sound you didn’t realise you were capable of making, a gasping moan that keeps unfurling as Taehyung keeps his mouth on you, feeling each pulse of your cunt as you cum around his fingers, tight-tight-tight. (You miss the way his hips kick into the mattress that the sounds you’re making, how much you tighten around him.) You never thought you’d be so loud, never thought you’d end up all but sobbing as Taehyung eventually leans back, candlelight brushing shining gold over the wetness over his mouth, his chin. Your wetness.
“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”
Little jolts of pleasure are still wracking through you, pulsations of pleasure that unfurl in your lower stomach; Taehyung rubs the pad of his thumb across your oversensitive clit and your entire body jumps, your legs going to snap shut as you gasp, only stopped by his body in the way. You realise, then, that his fingers are still curled inside you, and you shiver.
“One more,” he says, and your whole body shakes. “Can I give you one more?”
He still looks reverent, and hungry. Like he wants to devour you. Taehyung is usually so soft, a gentle summer breeze—but right now he’s so intense it might scare you if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Taehyung, and there’s something—there’s something about knowing that he looks like that because of you.
You let your legs fall open, watch how pleased he looks; how grateful. Like he's blessed to be able to do this to you. For you. You’re still so sensitive when he lowers his head again, but he’s slow and patient and coaxing, two fingers becoming three, and—that’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it feels good, Taehyung knowing exactly what to do to make you sob, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pulls you along that line between oversensitivity and mind numbing pleasure. This time, when you cum, it’s with three fingers buried deep in your cunt, the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit, back arching as you throw your head back and cry out. Your pussy throbs and it's so dirty, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you, the slick sound of movement as you moan, and moan, and moan.
No one's ever made you cum before. Only you. And now you know what it's like to put your pleasure in someone else's hands, to have them intent on making you feel good, so good, and it leaves you dizzy.
He’s praising you, you note dimly. He’s praising you, how well you’re doing, how good you are for him, and it leaves you feeling warm. You’re panting when Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you, moves so he can brace himself on his elbows and lean in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his skin against yours, chest to chest, his weight pressing you down and then you can feel—
You let out a noise against his lips. There’s nothing else that can be, that hot weight. You might not have felt it before, but you’re not stupid. That’s Taehyung’s cock, his hard length pressed against you.
“Taehyung,” you murmur.
“Mm.” He brushes his nose against yours, and the wave of affection that crashes through you is so strong it feels like it could pull you under. You didn’t realise that sex could be like this—that lingering shockwaves of pleasure could be skirting through your body as you lay there naked, still aroused and almost overcome, but also feeling so warm and soft and tender, too.
You feel lax after cumming, a little more confident, bolder—and the noise Taehyung makes as you clumsily grasp at him through his sweatpants is incredible. You feel like you could get high on it, the way he sucks in a gasp as his mouth falls open, even if you don’t know what you’re doing as your fingers wrap around cloth and hard heat.
“Please,” you start, then stop. Swallow. “Please, Taehyung.”
You want so much you feel like you could pass out. You want to feel and touch and taste; you want everything you haven’t had a chance to experience yet, want it with Taehyung, someone who you trust. Someone you love. Someone who knows far, far more than you—will always know more—and you want to learn that from him.
“Want you,” you say, and Taehyung looks pained all over again. He wants you, too.
“Fuck.” The word is rough, and you’ve never heard him curse before. The way he says it has something in you singing, as strange as that might be; you don’t think you’re ever going to get over how much you affect Taehyung. “What do you want from me, angel?”
Everything, you think. I want everything.
“Let me see?” is what you say, squeezing your fingers around Taehyung’s length, feeling the way his hips buck into the touch. “Please?”
You never thought that someone taking their clothes off could be artistic. And yet, there’s something about Taehyung moving to stand and stripping off the rest of his clothes that’s completely arresting and beautiful; carnal and holy, all at once. You don’t even realise your mouth is open as you sit up and watch him, moving closer as you drink down the sight, the way he’s naked in front of you.
Taehyung. Naked. Naked and beautiful and hard, and it’s so overwhelming, everything about it, how much you want and how—oh, God, how big and thick he is, obvious even to you, someone with nothing to compare it to. Holy fuck. Should you think that his dick is pretty? Can dicks even be pretty? Taehyung’s is. Of course it is. He’s gorgeous all over. Maybe you’re biased because it’s him, but there’s something about the sight of his hard cock, precome gathering at his slit, that makes your mouth water.
Taehyung goes to say something, but before you can lose your nerve, you move forwards, and whatever he was going to say is lost in the sound of a choked off groan. He tastes like salt and musk, hot under your inexperienced hands and mouth, and you don’t know what you’re doing but the noises he’s making, fuck. You run your tongue up the throb of a vein you can feel on the underside, and all you can think about is how big he is, slow and careful with your teeth and lips as you try your best to do whatever feels good for him.
His noises seem almost frantic but Taehyung’s hands are gentle when they comb through your hair. You look up. There’s a flush on his cheeks—red, not blue, you notice—and you pause, pulling off, suddenly shy after the burst of confidence that had you swallowing his cock down.
“Is this—is this okay?” You’ve still got your fingers wrapped around him, and maybe it’s a little ridiculous to be asking with spit and precome shining on your lips, but Taehyung’s answering smile is so affectionate.
“You’re perfect,” he says, and you know he’s not just talking about your clumsy blowjob. “Do you want to stop?”
You bite your lip and pump his length, which has Taehyung sucking a breath in. “I—what do you want?”
Something flashes through Taehyung’s eyes, and it feels like there’s electricity shooting down your spine before that look disappears. “This is about you, angel,” he says. “We can worry about what I want next time.”
Next time. This is the first time but it’s not the last. Oh, God. God.
Taehyung takes advantage of your distraction and hikes you up and away from the edge of the bed. It leaves you breathless, knowing how strong he is, how easily he can move you, even if he’s gentle-gentle-gentle. He settles in the cradle of your hips, and he’s so close, naked body flush with yours, covering you. His cock is so close—he just has to shift a little, just a little, and—well.
Before that, though, there’s something you need to know.
“Taehyung?” Your voice shakes but you have to ask.
“Yes?”
“Is this. Um. Does this feel good for you, too?”
You’re always aware of the fact Taehyung is an android, even if he looks and feels and is human, too. (It doesn’t matter that he’s made of metal and thirium and circuitry. He’s human.) You lift a hand and thumb at the soft skin of his temple, where his LED used to sit; you don’t know how to communicate that you love him regardless, that it doesn’t matter to you if he's a man or robot. But you’ve wondered—you know Taehyung was built to pleasure humans. Even if he’s been reacting, making noises, looks for all intents and purposes that he is enjoying this—what if it’s all programming? What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s something you want?
He leans into your touch. “Angel.” It sounds like the word is being scraped out of him, hoarse and deep, all dark heat. “It feels good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”
He rolls his hips almost imperceptibly, but you’re hyperaware of every motion, how close you are. Your breath stutters in your throat.
"I want you to feel good," he says. "I've wanted to feel you and taste you for so long. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to know what you feel like around me. Under me. On top of me. You make me feel so fucking good, you don't even know," and, oh, fuck, those words go right through you, settle deep in your belly, leave you breathless. Taehyung sucks at your pulse point and you melt, even as your skin feels like it's burning, so hot, every part of you so hot, so ready for him.
Taehyung’s big enough that you’re worried about how he’s going to fit, even if you’re slick and wet and so, so turned on—you know about the importance of lube, used it often enough by yourself, but when you mention it to Taehyung he just smiles.
“Don’t forget that I’m a sex android,” he says, and before you can ask exactly what he means by that, you feel the tip of his cock at your folds and the question dies on your tongue.
“Please,” is what leaves your lips. “Please, please, please.”
“Anything you want,” he says, and eases his hips forwards.
Slow, and hard, and wet, the head of Taehyung’s cock starts to press into you. You grab at his back, digging your fingers in; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, a not-quite-pain as he pushes in—but it’s a lot, even if the slide is smooth, so smooth, from your own wetness and the slickness that covers Taehyung’s cock. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and it feels—astonishing, the way you can feel yourself open up for him, the way it feels like he’s filling every part of you, throbbing heat.
“Oh, oh God,” you gasp.
Taehyung’s forehead is pressed to yours, the loose locks of his dark hair framing his face as he waits, hips snug with yours. You shiver and move your hips a little, entire body seizing at the sensation of him shifting inside you. It's so new and alien, having someone nestled inside you, against you, so close in every sense of the term, above you, around you, inside you—but it feels… good.
And when he moves, it’s so, so slow. Slow and smooth as he works you open, even if you feel so tight around him. You drag your nails down his shoulder blades when he moves a little faster, a little roll of the hips that has you gasping all over again.
“More,” you say, and he gives you more.
You feel so full. You feel full of Taehyung, inside and out—the way his body is still pressing you down, skin on skin, how hot he is.
They call it making love, and it’s not until now that you really understand what that means—how you can feel Taehyung’s soft and tender affection in his every motion, read it in every shift of his body, the lines of his face, his lips; the way his eyes are dark but full of wonder, shining with love for you, pleasure singing through every inch of you, centred around Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.
Each noise that falls from his lips is an echo of that love. Even when he leans back and takes you with him—settles on his knees, pulls your hips from the mattress to stay connected to you as your shoulder blades dig into the mattress, his cock in your cunt—there’s tenderness there, even if you’re both chasing mutual lines of pleasure. You feel almost dazed, dizzy with love and arousal, reaching out for him, and he catches your hand. The other stays at your waist, guiding you onto him, again and again, each roll of hips into yours.
“Taehyung,” you gasp, voice breaking on his name when he thrusts into you. He’s been increasing the pace, faster and sharper, harder, and it’s so-so-so much, so good. “I’m—Taehyung, I’m close, I wanna cum again, pleasepleaseplease—”
He lets go of your hand and then he’s thumbing at your clit and you’re cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, Taehyung’s cock still hard and insistent inside you as you ride out your orgasm, pulsing around him. You’re gasping and making noises like you’re falling apart, and there’s something desperate in Taehyung’s eyes, something dark and wanton.
“Angel, I’m going to cum soon,” he says, and you moan in response, hazy. “Do you want me to pull out?”
You shake your head no. You want to know what it feels like, to have Taehyung lose himself inside you. You’re about to reach out for him when he hooks his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up—you suck in a sharp breath as he starts to move again, almost bent in two, his face so close to yours. It's not rough but something about Taehyung taking control like that has you baring your throat, arching your back and throwing your head back. The hold he has on you is firm, and you feel how it tightens as his thrusts speed up, and then, fuck—
When Taehyung cums it’s around the gasp of your name, a hitching sound as he empties himself inside you, throbbing and hot. You let out an answering sound, the two of you locked together until Taehyung pulls out, careful and slow; you feel like a sweaty mess, empty without him inside you, but then his hands are so carefully cupping your face and he’s kissing you over and over and over. It leaves you feeling breathless, all those little kisses, struggling for air by the time you part, every part of you lax under his loving touch.
“How are you feeling?” Taehyung murmurs, soft and sweet.
“Good,” you murmur back. And then your nose crinkles. “Sweaty.”
Taehyung laughs, quiet and low. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you breathe him in. You do feel sweaty, and there’s an ache settling inside you, but it’s a good ache. A glowing ache, an unfamiliar one, but one that you know you'll get to feel again, with Taehyung.
You’ve just leaned back to take him in all over again, painted syrupy sweet in the golden candlelight—when the lights suddenly turn back on. It floods your eyes and you make a noise of surprised pain as you squint against the sudden brightness, but then you start to giggle, shock melting into laughter.
When your laughter dies you realise Taehyung’s been watching you. The room is full of shining light now, and you realise you’re still naked, entire body shaking as you’ve been giggling. You’d feel embarrassed about your nakedness if you hadn’t just shared yourself with him, bared yourself in ways that are more than skin deep. There’s an instinctual part of you that wants to cover up now that there’s nowhere to hide, no flickering shadows to cover up the parts of your body that you don’t like, the flaws you don’t want Taehyung to see. But he just looks fond, fond, fond, love and affection dripping off him as he watches the way you smile shyly up at him.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hi,” he says, and smiles back, wide and bright.
You love him. You love him, and he loves you, and you trust that love. As hard as it might be to believe, you trust that this is what he wants—that you’re what he wants.
“Do you want me to carry you to the shower?” he asks, and you can’t help but laugh again, warm through and through, how he’s still taking care of you.
“Not yet,” you say.
You end up against his chest, wrapped close. You’ve laid your head in his lap countless times, but he’s never been on his back before, never had his arms around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Taehyung might not have a heart, but the thirium pump nestled in his chest beats steady as you stay nestled against his side.
You’re drawing little circles on his skin with your fingers when he catches that hand and lifts it to his mouth, presses a tender kiss to your fingertips.
“I love you,” he says.
You feel like liquid sunlight, shining happiness as you melt, melt, melt. And the feeling stays, body filled with it, even after Taehyung coaxes you out of bed and into the shower to wash the sweat off your body; when he drags a soapy loofah over your back you can’t help but laugh, so in love, so loved.
And when you fall asleep, it’s not with your head on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s with his arms around you, his chest to your back, his body curved around you. You don’t want tonight to end, but you also can’t wait for tomorrow, knowing that it’s another day with him, with Taehyung, your Taehyung. You never thought that love would be like this, never thought that you’d feel love like this, cared for and protected and loved, loved, loved.
“Not staying late?”
You pause in the process of shoving everything into your bag. Hoseok is leaning against your desk, a smile curling at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at you, almost suggestive.
“Nah, I’ve got a dinner to get to,” you say.
“You seem a lot happier lately,” Hoseok comments, and when you don’t fall for the bait, he wiggles his eyebrows. “The girls think that you’ve got a secret boyfriend that you’re too shy to tell anyone about.”
Taehyung still greets you every day when you get home. But now, every greeting is punctuated with a kiss—and sometimes a little more. When you stop to think about it, it’s startling, this thing that Taehyung’s taught you. That the simplest of things can turn into something more, love edged with lust, that it’s all part and parcel of loving someone, being with them, being comfortable with them. Just the other day you’d been reading on the sofa, and then Taehyung’s fingers had curved over your thigh and the tablet had fallen from your hands—
Hoseok clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out again,” he says.
“I am not,” you say, zoning back in. “I was thinking about if I needed to buy any food on the way home.”
“To feed that secret boyfriend of yours?” Hoseok says, and you laugh in his face.
“Definitely not to feed the rumour mill,” you say. Hoseok pouts but it’s good natured, and he waves you off with a smile, letting you leave the office without trapping you in an interrogation for the gossip you’re certain your coworkers are hungry for.
It’s your turn to cook for Yoongi and Seokjin, so you’ve got to get home to help Taehyung. Both men had been spectacularly unsurprised when they’d found out about the two of you. Yoongi had remained calm as Seokjin crowed in delight, proclaiming I knew it, I knew that’s why you were avoiding Taehyung.
“Feel lucky, Y/n,” Yoongi had said. “At least Taehyung has a sense of decorum and shame.”
“I think it’s a shame that my boyfriend is such a party pooper,” Jin had said. “I demand a dinner party! To celebrate your new relationship! Oh, I’m going to bake the biggest cake.”
“Oh my God,” you’d said, and Taehyung had just smiled.
The truth is that you’re grateful for your neighbours and their support, grateful for their friendship. Just because Taehyung looks human doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him, worry that someone might discover that he’s a deviant; Jin’s slipped under the radar for long enough, and you hope it’s the same for Tae, too. And yet you can’t help but think about it, think about the present, the future, how your lives are going to unfold as time goes by.
When the door swings open to your apartment, though, that’s the last thing on your mind. All that’s on your mind is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, your love appearing just as you’ve kicked your shoes off, all bright pink hair and dark eyes and welcoming hands.
“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.
“Hi,” he says, smiling so brightly, and then he kisses you.
You’re never going to get tired of kissing Taehyung; never going to get tired of how his mouth fits against yours, so perfect and sweet. But then he crowds you against the wall, swallowing down your gasp before kissing down your neck, running his teeth so gently across your skin.
“Missed you,” he murmurs, words dripping hot and slow. “Been thinking about you.”
“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Taehyung, we need to cook dinner.”
“We have time,” he says, and when he picks you up, you don’t protest. You go easily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, heat already gathering in your stomach as he walks the familiar path to your bedroom.
You have time: today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You have time with Taehyung, to learn with him, to love him. To be loved back. You don’t know what’s coming on the horizon, what the future holds—but then again, you never have.
There’s one thing you know now, though. No matter what happens, Taehyung will be at your side, and you’ll be at his. He wants you, and he loves you. You want him, and you love him.
“I love you,” you murmur, and Taehyung kisses the words off your lips, lets the promise of your love settle inside him, warm and soft and safe.
“I love you too,” he says, and then you’re too busy to say anything, after that.
taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove @jalexad @beingbeings @lorielulu7 (can’t tag: @jeon-joon-kook)
#btswritingcafe#btswriterscollective#magicshopnet#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#bts#taehyung au#bts au#taehyung#kim taehyung#taehyung scenario#taehyung imagine#android taehyung#robot taehyung#taehyung fanfic#bts fanfic#joy.masterlist
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Van Zieks - the Examination, part 2
Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).
Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I'm outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I've missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I'm using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what's said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn't matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.
It’s time to take a close look at Episode 3, The Runaway Room!
Episode 3: The Runaway Room.
We're skipping the first two cases, as they have no relevance to Barok van Zieks, and starting off here.
So Ryu is tossed into the deep. The Lord Chief Justice tells him that he’s basically the defendant’s only hope; if he doesn’t at least try to fight in court, McGilded will lose the trial and die for sure. (HAH… Good one, Stronghart.) So Ryu falls for this would-be motivational speech and heads for the courthouse where he finds out why McGilded doesn’t have a defense attorney to begin with; it’s because of the prosecution. No one dares to go up against Lord Barok van Zieks, also known as the Reaper of the Old Bailey, because all who he prosecutes are damned. This should sound familiar to anyone who’s played an Ace Attorney game before. ‘The prosecution has never been defeated before’ is the implication, which would initially lead us to believe Van Zieks is another one of those prodigies. Sure enough, Susato points out he must be very talented, to which McGilded replies that Van Zieks is not talented, rather, he’s cursed. This sets the mood even further. With words like “Reaper” and “curse” being tossed around, we’re sooner reminded of a prosecutor like Simon Blackquill, who was a convicted murderer wielding psychological manipulation techniques. Either way, with the grim atmosphere set, Ryu is ushered into the courtroom before he can ask any more questions.
As a sidenote, McGilded really scored some negative points with this remark:
Feels a bit softened compared to how fan translations tackled that line, but a nasty jab all the same.
So anyway, entering the courtroom we get our first look at Van Zieks and if the foreshadowing in the Defendant Antechamber wasn’t already bad enough, he honors his eerie reputation.
So far, he’s meeting the requirements then. He’s intimidating and as a wealthy white man, he’s perfectly juxtaposed to Ryu, the rookie from another country. Meanwhile, the first micro-aggression of this trial is actually uttered by the judge:
Which also makes narrative sense. Ryu’s more practical goal isn’t to win the prosecution’s trust. Heck, he could get through any trial just fine with Van Zieks’s dislike. No, what he needs is to win over the judge and the members of the jury. For them to also hold prejudice but put that aside in order to side with the truth is another important end-game here. So let’s continue. Van Zieks also has something to say here:
Initially, the remark about Ryu’s eyes might read as a typical racist jab towards someone from the East, but he is in fact referring to the way Ryu’s eyes are ‘swimming’ when he’s nervous, as evidenced by the next lines. “They shroud your fear, your doubt, your trepidation… They run wild, clinging to some phantom notion of courage.” Van Zieks is saying that while Ryu puts up a brave front, his swimming eyes betray just how nervous and unsure of his cause he really is. So really, he’s targeting the fact that Ryu is new to the courts. He did, however, make a point of tossing the word “Nipponese” in there when he didn’t need to, drawing attention to Ryu’s race in a derogatory fashion.
After the jurors are introduced, something else of interest happens. The judge points out that Van Zieks hasn’t been seen in the courtroom in a number of years. The judge had assumed that Van Zieks had renounced his fame, to which he replies with the following:
This is a very telling line. We learn several things. Firstly, Van Zieks had retired, and secondly, he doesn’t seem to think too highly of his title of Reaper. If he did, he would have gloated. To describe his reputation as infamy implies negative associations with this ‘curse’ that McGilded spoke of. Putting these two things together, one might conclude he retired because of this curse. When asked why he’s returned to the courts, he says that he’ll leave that to the judge’s imagination. So there’s hints of a backstory already being tossed in before the trial’s even properly kicked off.
Which it does now. So the opening statement happens as always and witnesses are brought in, but once it’s done Ryu interjects to say that he doesn’t understand the circumstances. ‘How could the witnesses have seen the inside of a moving carriage’? It shocks the entire courtroom and Van Zieks is the one to speak:
“-But you’re here in London yourself. Are you really so ignorant about our omnibuses? Tell me, my Nipponese friend… Have you even travelled in an omnibus?”
I have to be honest, I struggled to pinpoint just how I felt about these remarks. Sure, I can overanalyze this, looking at how the words “I’d read-” imply he doesn’t know the following sentiment to be true and therefore doesn’t feel confident enough to say something like “I knew-”... But it doesn’t change that he’s being scummy here. In a roundabout way, he’s still saying Japan is far less civilised than Britain and that Ryu is extra ignorant for not knowing about omnibuses when he’s in London. So basically, he gets scumbag points for this. But then there’s…:
Which is just a basic jab at Ryu’s intelligence. It’s the sort of remark we’d get from every single prosecutor. I think even Klavier would say this sort of line with a smile on his face.
But definitely more scumbag points here, because this was a direct attack in more ways than one. Particularly the word “stray” was uncalled for. CEO of Racism, indeed. Something very interesting happens when the knife gets pulled into the story halfway into the first cross-examination, though. When Ryu asks about it, Van Zieks replies with this:
He’s… actually being civil? (I doublechecked with Scarlet Study, and they are in agreement on the timid nature of this line, translating “yes, Counsel” as “Quite so”.) Instead, Van Zieks turns his attention to the fact that there’s an M on the sheath, directing all his offensive attitude towards McGilded. It gets even more curious when the last juror refuses to cast a guilty verdict, instead talking about what a good man she believes McGilded to be. Van Zieks says:
So he’s not only frustrated with McGilded now, he’s frustrated with the people of London for not knowing what sort of person McGilded really is. Van Zieks reveals he’s a dirty money lender who gained his fortune through corrupt means. He even takes the time to inform Ryu of this with the words “Your client is a shylock, sir!” Edit: I feel a need to address this: shylock is a word with antisemitic roots. It originally came from a Shakespeare play involving a very bad stereotype. It later evolved to have a more broad meaning basically synonymous to loan shark and I think that’s the context the localization means to use it in. There’s absolutely no indication of McGilded’s religious beliefs and even if there were, I highly doubt the localization would use that sort of slur. Still, it’s a very unfortunate choice of words and is sure to accidentally sour Van Zieks even more with some players.
With that, the last juror votes, the scale tips towards Guilty and Van Zieks assumes the trial to be over. He thanks the jurors for their work. Unfortunately, once Susato brings up the Summation Examination, Van Zieks gets very frustrated again. This happens:
IIII don’t know what to do with this line. On first glance, I didn’t think much of it and was even willing to consider it was a compliment. Then I thought it must’ve been passive aggressive somehow; that it’s the sort of thing he wouldn’t believe until he’d seen it with his own eyes. A friend directed me to the notion that it might be referencing a stereotype that ‘Eastern women are fierce’ because they were associated with, well, certain ‘paid services’. I don’t think I need to explain, I’m sure you understand what I mean. And if indeed that’s what Barok is insinuating, that’s a new low I never thought he’d reach. However, when you’ve finished the games and know that Barok was friends with a married Japanese man, it’s entirely possible that he’s remembering a story once told to him by Genshin Asogi. So this is either a bittersweet reminiscence or the most scumbag association he ever could’ve made, but I’m not sure we can ever prove which it is. Edit: As another option, it’s possible he’s referring to the Yamato Nadeshiko stereotype, if indeed it already held the ‘touch of iron’ aspect to it back in 1900. He proceeds to toast his hallowed chalice to “the enigmatic East” and to be honest, I’ve once again got nothing. All I know is that he once again drew attention to the defense’s race when he didn’t need to, so… Scumbag point. As a sidenote, in regards to the wine… I don’t count this as a humanizing trait. The same applies to the leg slam. These are animations meant to add some more lighthearted air and breathe more life into Van Zieks, so he doesn’t just stand there like a statue. They’re just quirks meant to have him stand out from other characters. So yeah, fun as the wine and leg slam animations are, they don’t count in the redemption requirements. Anyway, Van Zieks mocks the age of Susato’s book, saying that judging by its bindings it must be fifty years old. Considering the context of the conversation, this isn’t out of bounds. The defense is using ‘outdated’ information on the law, so he points that out. Any prosecutor would’ve done it like this. Simon Blackquill likely would’ve offered to shred that outdated tome to bits for Susato. Van Zieks does toss in a “Hmph, typical Nipponese” later though, which earns him one more scumbag point. Van Zieks continues to dismiss the Summation Examination, but the judge overrules him and allows it. Law is law, after all! And this is what I meant in my previous post when I said it’s satisfying to see Ryu use actual British law against Van Zieks. Ryu is using a perfectly legitimate technique to win the jurors over, and as Susato tells him, he can only do it by turning the jurors against one another with facts. He can’t appeal to them, he can only have them see sense. Which is difficult, because some jurors are more prejudiced than others:
… Yeah. Uh. Calling Ryu a “Dark Jinx” is pretty awful. Scumbag points for Juror No. 1! Meanwhile, Juror No. 4 keeps us updated on Barok’s actions throughout this trial:
Wow. Typical prosecutor behavior, though. Regardless, Ryu manages to win them all over in the end. With enough of the scales set back to not-guilty, the trial is allowed to continue, which leads to this:
Bye, hallowed chalice. A fun animation to keep things fresh and show us that the trial is about to take a turn. Once again, nothing new. We’ve seen prosecutors lose their patience before. What does interest me, though, is that Barok doesn’t direct physical frustration towards the defense. Remember: Franziska snaps a whip at Phoenix, Godot throws coffee at his head, Blackquill sends a hawk to attack the defense or uses that aijutsu slicing move, Nahyuta throws restricting beads… These were all direct physical attacks. Van Zieks, much like Edgeworth and Klavier, directs his frustration more inward and as a result he destroys his own property.
He succeeds in intimidating Ryu, though. Van Zieks explains that he kept silent, as is the norm during Examination Summation, but makes it clear that he considers it a charade all the same.
Van Zieks has been a pretty good gentleman towards the jury up until now, speaking to them politely despite that one remark about having their head in the clouds. Now that he’s seeing them ‘buy into Ryu’s stories’, as one might describe it, he’s getting frustrated with them. Maybe he’s even frustrated they’re choosing the defense’s side over his own.
He removes his cloak, entering what he says to be the next round of their ‘battle’. More typical prosecutor behavior, this. I’m not sure there’s an underlying thought to this, other than to indicate to the audience that ‘things have gotten serious’. When the next bit of testimony is going on, I noticed something odd. Both Fairplay and Furst testify to having seen blood on McGilded’s hands, to which Van Zieks says:
“... Reported that there was no trace of blood on Mr. McGilded’s gloved hands.” So in a way, by establishing this fact, he’s helping the defense and going against what the witnesses are saying. It doesn’t help the prosecution in any way at all.
The trial continues on, with Van Zieks uttering things like “My Nipponese friend” and “my learned friend from the East” and lord knows what else… I suppose to soften the harshness of the original wording a bit and make Van Zieks just a bit less dislikable? Edit: Tumblr user @beevean has pointed out that “my learned friend” is an actual term used in courts of law. There’s a tradition (also employed in British courts of law) that when addressing either the court or the judge, a barrister refers to the opposing counsel using the respectful term, "my learned friend". Of course, it can be said with an air of passive aggression and pretending to be respectful to the court while shamelessly disrespecting it is something Barok has always done, so the addition of “my learned friend” to the localization text is amazingly in-character. Then of course we have:
This is both a scumbag remark and foreshadowing. Naturally, those playing the game for the first time won’t recognize it as the latter and therefore take it as nothing more than a harsh blow. Things spiral even further out of control when he starts talking about how people who claim the island nations of the Far East have a learning and culture of their own use those terms ill-advisedly. He also uses the words “artless backwater” and really, this is the low point of the trial right here when it comes to prejudice. Van Zieks is just plain lashing out with these sort of jabs.
Eventually, McGilded is dragged onto the witness stand to testify about whether or not there was another passenger aboard the omnibus. McGilded admits that there was, and Van Zieks snaps at him some more for using convenient excuses. Ryu is forgotten here for a moment. The whole smoke bomb thing happens, Van Zieks confers with McGilded and Gina in his own chambers, then the trial resumes. McGilded testifies, then Gina testifies… The jury votes not-guilty, buying into McGilded’s story about protecting a poor young pickpocket and Van Zieks loses it. He slams his heel down on the bench, pointing out that this is why he doesn’t like the jury system; because emotions are ruling where evidence and facts ought to be paramount. He points out while the cubbyhole Gina had been hiding in was empty now, it had been full of the coachman’s belongings during the police investigation. Someone tampered with the omnibus. This is where things get interesting, because Van Zieks addresses Ryu:
He’s giving Ryu the benefit of the doubt here. He’s offering an option for Ryu to be truthful about this matter. And that’s curious, because any defense attorney would naturally say what’s best for his client- or so it’s assumed. It puts Ryu in a difficult position for sure, but for some reason Van Zieks put the question forward anyway. The game responds as follows:
For the sake of argument, I attempted all three options. So when Ryu says he didn’t look, Van Zieks says: “Hm… Perhaps I credited you with too much intelligence.”
So when feigning ignorance, Van Zieks is kind of a scumbag about it. He is correct in his expectation that any attorney worth his badge would thoroughly examine the details of the evidence, but he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it. Now, when outright lying and saying it was empty, Van Zieks instead says:
The lines are very similar, which is an interesting note. It adds a feel of these responses being 'rehearsed', in a way. Just a default for him to fall back to. But the real kicker comes when Ryu tells the truth and says it wasn’t empty. Van Zieks is actually speechless at first with no more than a “...!” Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Ryu to respond like this. Everyone in court is baffled, McGilded gets angry… Van Zieks is a bit rattled now.
“Your task is to defend the man in the stand. Why would you say something to compromise his position?”
So really, it seems as if Van Zieks had only ever offered the question to Ryu with pessimistic intentions. He too had assumed there was only one answer the defense could give and was prepared for just that with his silly little wine analogies, only to be shocked when Ryu defies his expectations. Ryu confesses that he’s not entirely sure on where he stands in the matter, to which Van Zieks replies with “... Interesting.”
So now the jury members are doubting themselves again, with some offering guilty verdicts. Van Zieks decides to honor the ‘Scales of Justice’ once more now that they’re back in his favor, like the hypocrite he is. Gina testifies, Ryu points out an inconsistency, Van Zieks takes that opportunity to turn the tables back in his favor by implying Gina is a liar… He passive aggressively thanks Ryu for saving him considerable trouble and whatnot with some more “my learned Nipponese friend” remarks in there… Ryu turns the tables once more by insisting the victim came into the omnibus through the skylight, Van Zieks demands evidence and points out that furthermore, if indeed such a thing had happened, the witnesses on the roof would’ve seen it. McGilded hops into the conversation to imply that the witnesses themselves were the killers, which sends the court into a frenzy. Both Van Zieks and the judge shift the responsibility of the accusation towards Ryu, even though he never said a word to directly accuse the witnesses. Kind of a douchey move. Barok even states that Ryu’s ‘command of the English tongue must be wanting’, since
Yeahhh, that's pretty unfair. McGilded was the one who dropped that implication. However, since the judge basically accuses Ryu of the same thing, it’s a narrative choice to warn Ryu he needs to anticipate where his reasoning will lead him. Fairplay and Furst testify, pandemonium ensues. McGilded eventually gets what he wants when it’s revealed the skylight can open and there’s blood in there. Van Zieks once again turns his attention to McGilded:
He knows McGilded is at the root of all this tomfoolery and evidence manipulation. McGilded is the real enemy here, in Van Zieks’s eyes. The conversation shows this by having Van Zieks point out that he’s well aware of McGilded’s involvement in dubious matters and that evidence is often ‘adapted’ to suit this guy’s stories. And now, once again, he turns his attention to Ryu. Once again, he’s giving the defense the benefit of the doubt:
The game gives you the illusion of choice here. If you choose to say it’s ‘out of the question’ that the evidence was tampered with, Ryu will refuse to say it out loud. If you say it’s entirely possible, Ryu will admit to that.
This is probably baffling to Van Zieks. It would’ve been so easy for Ryu to insist the tampering couldn’t have happened, but he doesn’t. The game won’t even let him. No matter what you choose, Van Zieks is clued in on the fact that Ryu doesn’t condone the deceit that McGilded is resorting to. But it gets even better, because a short time later, we get:
Another option to either draw attention to forgery, or to feign ignorance. Once again, I chose both options for argument’s sake, but having Ryu say he has no idea doesn’t get us anywhere. Susato will instead object to say it for him. With “I have an inkling”, Ryu says it himself. Van Zieks once again confesses, in his own words, that he’s caught off guard.
Ryu clarifies that he thinks the blood stain inside the omnibus is decisive evidence, but he can’t say for certain whether it’s genuine. McGilded loses it and by this point, is outright branding Van Zieks an enemy. Since the player at this point doesn't know whether McGilded is guilty or not, it leaves Van Zieks in a bit of narrative limbo. One might think: 'if the prosecutor is so intent on taking down a murderer, shouldn't we be on his side? Is he perhaps not as bad as he seems?' Unfortunately, McGilded points out that recollection and memories don’t matter, only evidence does. And… Well.
Which means they can’t rule on a guilty verdict and will have to let McGilded go. Van Zieks admits that he has no more witnesses or evidence to present. He’s out of options. As a formality, the judge asks the defense’s closing statement and we get one last option. Do we believe him to be guilty or not-guilty? When claiming he’s innocent, Van Zieks says:
It seems he means “abject” in the sense of “without pride/respect/dignity for oneself”, which… You know, is fair. By this point it’s very clear that McGilded is guilty, and since Ryu has already admitted that the evidence may be forged, insisting otherwise is indeed pretty spineless. Scumbag points to Van Zieks for continuing to draw attention to the fact that Ryu is from Japan, though.
Let’s instead just admit that we can’t say for certain McGilded is innocent. Unfortunately, we don’t see Van Zieks react to this, which is a bummer because this could’ve been very telling. The judge questions Ryu’s sanity (no joke) and McGilded laughs because it doesn’t matter; it was just a formality anyway. The judge scolds Van Zieks, saying that his case was flawed and it was his job to keep the evidence secure. Instead of objecting, Van Zieks just outright takes the blame for this and apologizes. Very interesting reaction, here. He stops pointing the finger to McGilded, he doesn’t attempt to accuse anyone else… He just admits his performance was flawed. Ryu tries to interject here:
(A badly-timed screenshot if I’ve ever seen one.) Ryu is making an attempt here to defend Van Zieks, the guy who has built up like 20 scumbag points by now. Ryu sincerely doesn’t hold a grudge against him. That’s very interesting. It doesn’t matter, though. The judge won’t hear of it, Ryu thinks it’s unfair, Van Zieks warns McGilded that this isn’t over and then we get the not-guilty verdict.
Hurray??? Profit??? It’s a victory that’s bound to leave the player feeling conflicted and jarred.
But after all’s said and done, we get one last cutscene to establish just how ominous Van Zieks really is. The omnibus is on fire, someone is inside and we know McGilded went into the courtroom earlier to investigate the omnibus in question. So really, by putting two and two together we can already guess what’s going on here. Van Zieks approaches the scene and watches silently.
It’s a good reminder to us that every defendant he prosecutes is ‘damned’ and he’s called the Reaper for a reason. Really puts the finishing touch on the eerie undertones of his character.
All in all, a pretty typical first time against a new prosecutor. Now I just want to draw attention to the fact that the first time we face Van Zieks in court… he’s actually on the right side of the courtroom and Ryu is not. Van Zieks presumably specifically returned to the court after those five years to target McGilded, as he knows about this guy’s shady reputation when it comes to ‘adapting’ evidence. Barok is 'cursed' in such a way that every defendant he faces is damned. So long as he stands as the prosecutor, McGilded can’t get away with his crimes. No matter how much forgery is done, the Reaper will go after McGilded and it seems Van Zieks was banking on this happening.
He likely also expected Ryu to have been bought off by McGilded; to say whatever’s convenient for his case. Turns out, Ryu is actually a man of integrity who’s invested in the truth and near the end of the trial, Barok has seen evidence of this. So what will happen next? We’ll have to play The Clouded Kokoro and find out! Stay tuned!
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puppy love!
🌸💌 usui masumi
summary: masumi adopts a dog at the end
dedication: kmf anon 💍 — masumi loves you so much!
warnings: enemies to lovers (very light mention), falling, swearing
author’s note: i decided to write this adorable fluffy piece for my friend about masumi & reader volunteering at an animal shelter together~ (꒪ω꒪υ) please enjoy this puppy love ft. a very cute dog who plays matchmaker between you two!
word count: 3,859
music: this side of paradise – coyote theory
let’s make one thing clear: masumi didn’t like dogs
they were too loud, they ran around all the time, and they were way more trouble than they were worth. masumi didn’t like dogs, dogs didn’t like masumi, it was a mutual understanding
so how did masumi end up adopting a dog? well, it involved a park, a dog gone wild, and one veterinarian-to-be at an animal shelter
like every day after school, masumi took the shortest route to the mankai dorms: straight through veludo way’s park during its busiest hour
unfortunately, it was crowded nearly every time his acting sessions were finished. kids played silly childhood games before eventually crying about a boo-boo only a mother’s kiss could fix. teens masumi couldn’t relate to held picnics with their friends to savor the last fleeting memories of their youth. even grown elderly were practicing their afternoon yoga on decade-old mats. overall, every single age group was present right when masumi needed to head home
it was nothing soundproof headphones couldn’t fix with his volume turned up (it was no longer at maximum, he winced at the memory of how loud his music was as a moody teenager) (now, he was a moody young adult, but still)
but, maybe if he didn’t have such high quality headphones, he’d be able to hear a very alarmed voice call out to him and the sound of four paws running
“sir! watch out for—”
masumi quickly was knocked off-balance, his headphones flew off his ears and were replaced by the texture of a wet tongue. gross... masumi cringed as he tried to keep hold of a wriggling, fluffy mess and its wagging tail slapping his face
“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry for chocolate!” masumi tried to keep his eyes open as two black eyes and a happy grin greeted him. this... was chocolate?
“chocolate?” masumi murmured, to which the rather large chihuahua barked back a reply as if it understood. a figure blocked the sunlight streaming down upon the duo, a flash of a white coat momentarily distracting him from the constant panting from the dog in his arms
“ah... i’m sorry once again. she’s usually never like this, i promise.” you promised, bending down to reach for chocolate. yet, when you attempted to gather her entire being, you struggled as chocolate seemingly clung to masumi with a whine
masumi couldn’t even complain as he stared at you with wide eyes. who were you and how did he not know you yet? he was so distracted by your presence that he almost forgot there was a dog desperately attempting to lick his face all over
you were about to call for chocolate before you met masumi’s eyes, pausing before a light blush settled across your face. why was he looking at you like that?
“a-are you okay, sir? did you hit your head on the way down?” you waved your hand in front of masumi’s face before he snapped back to reality, blinking as he held out chocolate to you
“no, i’m fine. but... uh, your dog won’t let go of me.”
you held onto chocolate’s stubby legs and pulled. she didn’t even budge as she started growling at the mere threat of being removed from this stranger. you raised both of your hands defensively, trying to appear like you were totally okay with chocolate practically being attached at the hip with a random person in the park
“i... honestly don’t know why she’s doing this. she hates people, well, except me.”
masumi didn’t find that hard to believe. who wouldn’t like you? barely a few minutes into meeting you and he wanted to know everything about you
“she’s not my dog, by the way. i volunteer at the local animal shelter nearby.” when you introduced yourself, masumi barely registered he was suddenly holding your hand and hoisting himself off the ground (it seemed impossible, but chocolate cuddled into him even more)
“are you interested in adoption?” masumi was thinking anything but that
“it’s—” “she.” masumi blinked again, looking back down at chocolate then you. “uh... no but she, she’s... nice?”
you couldn’t help but laugh, successfully prying chocolate off in the meantime as you didn’t have it in you to be upset with his half-assed attempt. “you don’t like dogs, i assume?”
“they don’t usually like me, that’s all.” masumi lied smoothly, forgetting he just had an anti-social dog attack him like they were family. you raised an eyebrow at that obvious fib, but didn’t press anymore after getting a secure hold on the dog’s leash
“of course. well, i’m sorry again for chocolate, mr...?” you trailed off, half paying attention and half struggling to keep the dog from running towards masumi
“it’s masumi, usui masumi.” he said, subconsciously stepping away whenever chocolate lunged towards his ankles. you frowned at this but didn’t mention it, apologizing again before taking your leave
was this it? was this the last time he was going to see you?
masumi watched as chocolate kept looking back at him with her pleading eyes. why did that little dog like him so much? he didn’t even have any food on him...
maybe, dogs weren’t so bad after all... especially if you were there
“wait!” masumi called out this time, jogging up to the bench where you were gathering all the daily necessities when walking a dog. you almost let out a sigh of relief when chocolate became masumi’s issue to handle
masumi didn’t know what exactly made him detour his normal schedule even more, but here he was, taking up every excuse to talk to you. you, with the large chihuahua
“do you need any more volunteers at the shelter?”
you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you almost let go of chocolate’s leash again! trying to figure out whether this was a revenge prank or not, you couldn’t tell based off masumi’s serious expression
“what? i thought you didn’t like dogs?”
“no. i love animals!”
masumi didn’t love animals, especially dogs
but, of course, an animal shelter always needed more volunteers. after getting a very hesitant reference from you, they didn’t even do a background check on masumi before taking him in. apparently, “corg-key to your heart!” had been understaffed. lucky him!
conveniently you and masumi were scheduled around the same times for training, meaning his impulsive commitment wasn’t a huge waste of time. except, there was one thing
chocolate wouldn’t leave his side ever since his first day of volunteering
it’s like masumi was made of every food possible and chocolate was a hungry person looking for a buffet. it was impossible to separate the two, even when you were there!
(you pretended it didn’t hurt when you were no longer chocolate’s favorite, but it was very obvious)
apparently, ever since you started volunteering years ago, chocolate had already been there. she was practically ancient now and was still looking for her forever home
but she had never grown to like anyone, making it hard for people to adopt her. she only liked you (and now masumi)
so volunteering at veludo way’s animal shelter, “corg-key to your heart”, wasn’t on his to-do list, but here he was. all because of you who he wanted to get to know more
but... that was becoming hard when you were suddenly competing against him for chocolate’s love & devotion
but, not only did he adopt a dog, but he had won the key to your heart as well. all it took was four simple steps!
#1 — clean the cages
masumi had never smelt anything worse in his entire life. walking into the back of an animal shelter made him stumble back from how awful the stench was. you strolled in, apron on, as if it was nothing, greeting the animals by name at the beginning of the day
“what are you doing?” masumi pinched his nose closed, narrowing his eyes at the sudden barking when they sensed there was a new person in the room. you rolled your eyes at how wimpish he was being, ruffling a dog’s fur as you gestured towards the cleaning gear in the back
“these cages won’t clean themselves, you know.” you tossed a sponge and bucket at masumi, who caught it easily, much to your dismay. when he glanced at both of them, you tilted your head as he seemed confused
“have you never scrubbed the floor before?” — “wh-of course i have!” — “doubt.”
masumi pressed himself to the wall as you let all the dogs out, letting them run out into the field so they could get their morning meal time in. he huffed as you laughed, knowing you didn’t warn him on purpose
“get to cleaning or we’ll have to smell this forever.” you didn’t have to tell masumi twice before he started scrubbing, holding his breath for a minute at a time
after making the beds, sweeping, and cleaning up any other messes, you turned around to ask about the floors before seeing masumi nudge chocolate away. she had somehow escaped from her pack to sit by his side, to which he ignored
this was so unfair! you love chocolate! she was your favorite but she was completely ignoring you for someone who didn’t even like dogs!
when masumi looked up, he tried to smile but you looked away, suddenly very annoyed. masumi frowned, glaring at chocolate and her giant eyes
damn it! he was almost going to have a moment with you, but chocolate blew it! why did she keep getting in between you two...
masumi quickly became the only person capable of floor duty since chocolate would trail after him obediently
you mumbled about how masumi didn’t even deserve that love! how could anyone even love him like that anyways?
#2 — dog walks
masumi by no means was inactive. he was the typical athlete; he could throw a ball, run a mile, swim laps, anything under the sun. but, walking multiple dogs at once was a whole different league of its own
no one told him he’d have to make sure ten different leashes didn’t wrap around his legs and cause him to fall over. nor did he think all these dogs had this much strength to drag him over every square inch of the park he frequented on the way home. unfortunately, he was beginning to spend way too much time outside
masumi didn’t know how, but he’s been getting better at remembering everyone’s names. the dogs had their own distinct personalities and appearances, with a coordinating rainbow of leashes
apparently, you found this very amusing. at first, masumi only walked chocolate to get practice in, but he’s unfortunately leveled up to even more dogs. you got back chocolate, but you began to understand why her attention always went back to masumi
even if he wouldn’t admit it, masumi was a natural with dogs. he remembered their favorite treats like it was nothing and had a guiding presence, making even the most hyperactive breeds calm down every now and then. masumi was fast enough to catch any rogue dog and threw every frisbee far enough to catch their breath
masumi figured out you weren’t as annoyed at him when you had chocolate, so he was 100% willing to manhandle hundred-pound dogs to get your satisfaction
even if it meant falling over in the middle of the field when the dogs decided to merry-go-round his legs
when you looked up from your spot underneath the tree, you tried your best to stifle your laughter seeing masumi fall for the second time in this lifetime
when masumi dug himself out of the pile of dogs happy to be with him, he was faced with an open hand and a teasing smile on your face
“having fun down there?” you joked, before masumi took your hand, about to pull himself up before freezing. you wish you weren’t so obvious with how much you stared at him right then and there
both of you caught each other’s gaze, seemingly lost in each other’s eyes before you realized there was one less leash in your possession
“wait... where’s chocolate?!” (after a moment of panic on your end, all masumi had to do was call her name and she ran over. it’s like she planned this whole thing on purpose...)
you two made sure not to touch again to avoid another distraction, even if your shoulders and hands kept brushing on the way back to the shelter. whenever you two exchanged leashes, all you two could remember was the accidental hand hold
walking the dogs with masumi became much more difficult all of a sudden. if you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to look away. masumi didn’t question why you stopped meeting his eye
#3 — welcoming homes
chocolate had been at the “corg-key to your heart!” shelter for the past decade or so
but, you were allowed to take her home every weekend so she could get a break from everything. when it was your daily time with chocolate, you exited the break room only to find masumi already with her
masumi, who was always reluctant to get too close to any of the animals, seemed to throw caution to the wind as he slowly patted chocolate. she laid in his lap, her head propped up on his thigh as she sighed contentedly
you knew you were always jealous of masumi and chocolate’s instant connection but this time, you felt an indescribable amount of feelings seeing your best girl with your favorite co-volunteer (did you just think that? when did that happen?!)
masumi looked up from his seat on the floor, a red hue tinting his cheeks as he looked away, unsure of what to do next. “sorry, seems like she doesn’t want to move.” masumi looked anything but sorry but you let it slide
you sat next to the pair, reaching over to fondly massage chocolate’s ears. she leaned into your touch and your heart practically melted at the sight. you were so consumed by love you didn’t notice masumi’s small smile at your affection
“today’s my day to take her home. though, i don’t know how she’ll react without you.” you laughed, knowing it was going to be hell to separate these two
somehow, someway, masumi and chocolate had become the ultimate duo. after chocolate laying on masumi scrubbing all those floors, the park playtimes (which were the only time she moved more than a few feet ever), and everything in between, they began to become friends
(yes, it was cute. yes, you were still envious. though, this time, you didn’t know of who)
“then you should let me visit tomorrow.” masumi suddenly said, his words rushed as if he didn’t mean to say them. you paused, unable to comprehend the fact masumi wanted to come to your house
“u-uh... why?” you watched as masumi ducked his head, fiddling with chocolate’s collar as if embarrassed. you had never seen him react so physically, you wondered if you were reading too much into things
“chocolate will miss me. plus, i... i want to see you outside of work, too.”
ba-dump! your heart swelled up with love again, this time a very childish and innocent type that came with crushes. did you like masumi? was this okay to feel when you two were technically not even official friends?
“fine. but, make sure to bring something as a gift for chocolate or i’ll kick you out.”
“i’ll bring her favorite treat, promise.”
when you brought chocolate home, you stared at her as she lounged around
“i don’t like him... right?”
even chocolate seemed unconvinced, and she was a dog
masumi somehow knew chocolate’s favorite treat, believe it or not
when he showed up with that premium type of ham, it made you feel some type of way. how much did he know about chocolate? about you? just how perceptive was masumi actually?
“i know we weren’t apart long, but... here, take this.” when masumi gave you a box of your own favorite food as well, you felt everything in your system shut down as you tried to comprehend how he knew this. when you thought about it some more and realized you also knew masumi’s favorites, you blanked
did you two just skip the friends part completely? how did you already know this much about a total stranger?
“t-thank you, come in!” when you invited masumi in, he seemed to fit right in. it didn’t take long before chocolate was all over him, immediately leaping into his arms and ignoring the ham completely (until she came face to face with it, then she couldn’t resist)
you two spent the majority of saturday’s afternoon together, retelling horror stories and all the craziness that came with the week’s volunteer work. unlike before when masumi was disinterested, his eyes lit up as he recounted his encounters with the animals
you leaned forward, eager to see him talk so enthusiastically about a subject you loved. when masumi finished questioning how active the dogs were, he did a double take when he noticed your stare
were you looking at him the same way he looked at you? masumi held in his breath, eyes flickering down to your lips then back up. before you two could move, chocolate barked, demanding more attention from both her closest workers
you two quickly snapped out of it, going back to coddling chocolate and making sure she was taken care of
next, you two decided it was time for her walk. as you held the leash, masumi walked ahead to make sure there were no sticks or stones in her path. chocolate trotted happily, enjoying the views of the quieter parts of veludo way
you two held easy conversation, the words flowing naturally and the tension that came with work faded away. you almost forgot why you were always irritated with one another at the beginning. as you were about to say something, chocolate stopped
you lost your footing and tripped over chocolate, about to crash land before a pair of strong arms caught you. you understood how all those dogs didn’t get away as masumi made sure you were okay, holding you up as you stared up at him
(chocolate sat there satisfied, looking at her two favorites and making sure to hide her smug face)
“be careful next time, i don’t want to see you hurt.” masumi revealed almost in a whisper, his voice soft as you nodded meekly. unlike before, you two didn’t separate in a flustered rush. instead, when you forced yourself off his chest, masumi took your free hand like it was second nature
“i’ll make sure you don’t fall again so don’t let go.”
when you looked down at your conjoined hands, you were certain you had fallen without him noticing
if only you knew masumi had fallen for you the moment chocolate knocked him over
#4 — fundraiser
you and masumi were workers at the animal shelter’s fundraiser of the month. each month, “corg-key to your heart!” promoted their animals to the public in order to raise adoption rates
you two arrived to find yourselves where it all started: the park. at the center of it all were colorful posters advertising the pets and a pristine white booth guaranteed to be stained by grass in a few hours
for the past few weeks, you both have been passing out flyers and posting news on social media to attract potential adopters. not only did that, but the funds would be helpful for the electricity and food bill coming up
turning up to a forming crowd was nothing short of excitement. you both sat down at the booth, clipboards ready and energy buzzing in the air over the possibility of the pets finding their forever homes
as the blue sky passed by and the conversation in veludo way’s park grew, you and masumi worked together to make sure this fundraiser would be better than the last
“come meet our furry friends! you’ll find your best friend here at ‘corg-key to your heart!’” — “you’ll love these dogs and cats! come meet them today!”
although both of you were typically more on the quiet side, you and masumi made sure to attract as much attention as possible for the animals. slowly but surely, people began stepping up and asking questions about the pets
everything was going smoothly. you and masumi went on & on about all the traits about each animal you both have grown to know and love, donations were coming in at a consistent rate, and the staff were managing the excited dogs well. everything was great, until...
“how about this one?” a man had come up to the pair, gesturing towards one of the few dogs who wasn’t receiving that much attention. chocolate pouted in her cage, eagerly looking for someone to play with as she wagged her tail
masumi stopped himself from frowning, instead crossing his arms and forcing his voice to remain neutral. he couldn’t let down the animal shelter like this
“her name is chocolate. she’s a 13-year-old chihuahua who loves food and sleeping more than anything.” after going into a whole spiel about how wonderful chocolate was, the man seemed even more convinced that she was the one
“well, is she up for adoption?” you were about to respond with an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ before masumi shook his head, putting on fake sympathy as he shrugged
“no, she’s not. you just missed her, sorry.”
when the man went away, you dropped your customer service smile and slapped masumi’s arm. “hey!” masumi quickly lowered his tone, looking around to make sure no one was disturbed
“why did you say that?! chocolate has been looking for a home for so long now. she could’ve had an owner!”
“but, i want to be her owner.”
you couldn’t believe it, you were unsure of how to respond. was this real life? did masumi actually just say he wanted to adopt chocolate—
“yes, i am interested in adoption. i know if she went away with him, we’d never see her again. i always want to be with her, i’ll adopt her.”
you threw your arms around him, pulling masumi into a tight hug. a part of you was sad you’d see chocolate off, but now this meant you two would be able to see one another even more! this was the best-case scenario!
“masumi, thank you so much! i’m so happy, i could kiss you right now!”
silence (even if the park was crowded). then, masumi leaned back just like that saturday walk back then
“then, kiss me.”
when you met him halfway, masumi realized maybe he didn’t dislike dogs as much as he thought
you were too loud, you ran around with the dogs all the time, and you were way more trouble than you were worth. but, masumi likes you, you like him, it was a mutual understanding now
dogs weren’t so bad. after all, masumi had to thank a certain dog for making him fall for you at the park
#usui masumi#masumi usui#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game#a3! headcanons#act! addict! actors! headcanons#mankai a3!#mankai company#a3! x reader#a3 x reader#masumi x reader#a3! masumi#a3 masumi
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Meeting and Dating Mitch Kramer
(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)
(If the story ain’t broke why fix it?)
- You first met Mitch at the Emporium. You and a few of your older friends were busy playing a game of pool when he and Pink came over.
- The soon-to-be senior introduced the two of you and you chatted for a while, hitting it off straight away. You thought he was awkwardly adorable and he thought you were absolutely amazing.
- After a short conversation, the two of you said goodbye and went about your separate nights... at least for a little while. Soon enough you’d find yourselves running into each other again at the beer bust, both a little tipsy but happy to see each other.
- The two of you sober up a bit while you talk and you wind up spending half the night getting to know each other. You share a kiss in the early hours of the morning and give him a ride home, making plans to hang out later that day if he wasn’t completely grounded.
- Your first date is at the arcade. You give him a peck on the lips everytime he wins a game and he “pays you back” with a gift from the prize counter. Well it’s safe to say he won more than a stuffed animal that day since the two of you have been together ever since.
- Lots of pda. He has no shame, especially when it comes to you. He want’s people to know that you’re together; he’s very proud.
- He tends to just call you some form of your own name, he feels sort of awkward calling you anything else. It just never sounds right coming out of his mouth, at least to him.
- Lot’s of making out. It’s one of his favorite hobbies.
- Going to his baseball games.
- Walking each other to class.
- Bowling dates.
- Convincing him to let you braid his hair and do other weird shit to it.
- Brushing hair from each others faces.
- Hanging out with Jodi every once and a while. She thinks you’re adorable and teases the two of you constantly.
- Laying side by side on his bed, listening to his music together.
- He likes to make different mixtapes for the two of you. You spend a lot of time jumping around his room and singing along.
- Hanging out on the moon tower. You like going up there at night and stargazing.
- Sitting alone together during parties.
- He doesn’t mind just talking to you all night, he never gets tired of your conversations.
- Helping him and his friends evade O’Bannion or occasionally get their revenge.
- Giving each other pecks on the lips.
- Wearing his baseball cap and playing dress up with his different patterned shirts. The two of you may or may not have matching outfits courtesy of his mom.
- Making sure he’s alright at parties and isn’t going to get himself killed while stumbling around drunk.
- His friends like to tease him whenever you’re around, telling embarrassing stories or roasting him. They’re all very impressed, and slightly jealous, that he managed to snag a babe like you.
- He’s pretty much willing to do whatever you ask mainly because he loves you and wants you to be happy but also because he wants you to think he’s cool and reliable.
- He likes being able to impress you. He tends to try and act all nonchalant about the stuff he manages to do even though he often surprises himself, once again: he wants you to think he’s cool.
- A lot of boys his age (and older) are immature but he’s often an exception. Having an older sister has definitely helped to desensitize him to girly things and given him more experience when it comes to understanding women.
- Mitch is constantly putting people before himself, it’s one of the reasons you love him so much but it’s also something you try to help him with. You don’t want him being used and manipulated so you keep a bit of an eye out for assholes.
- There’s been at least a few instances of him going to Jodi or his mom for advice. He doesn’t trust his friends directions and women know women best, right?
- Picnic dates.
- Arcade dates.
- Getting to hear all of the crazy stories he has from hanging out with the seniors.
“So he says to me ‘throw it’ and what am I gonna say? No? And so I throw it, and I kid you not, the thing goes through someone’s windshield.”
- It’s pretty easy to convince him to do something with you. Late night convenience store runs, weird adventures, whatever you have in mind.
- Ignoring his older friends innuendos and dirty jokes. They like embarrassing him in any way they can.
“Hey, have fun kids. And you watch out cause this kids a wild child, man!”
- He likes to keep his arm around your waist so that people know you’re dating. He doesn’t think anyone would immediately assume you were together “because, well, he’s him and you’re you”.
- He definitely has his jealous moments. Most guys don’t take him seriously since he’s “just a freshman” (especially the more persistent drunks and assholes) which leads to a bit of insecurity when it comes to your relationship. You’re beautiful, he’s sure a ton of guys are lined up waiting for him to mess up or for you to get tired of him.
- A lot of the time he’ll ask his friends about the guys who are talking to you, trying to seem nonchalant which isn’t too much of a feat since his friends are usually a bit drunk. If he doesn’t like their response he’ll come over and join the conversation, making sure nothing fishy is going on.
- Wondering how he meets some of the people he knows.
- He leans his chin on your shoulder or presses his face against the side of your head whenever he hugs you from behind.
- He’s got a framed photo of you next to his bed that he likes to look at when he’s going to bed.
- Nose kisses.
- You both follow each other around like lost puppies depending on what kind of situation you’re in.
- Walking home from school together or driving him home. A lot of the time you’ll grab a bite to eat together once classes are over.
- Staying at each other’s houses for dinner. You’re always invited over to his place since his mom adores you.
- You cuddle snuggled into his side while laying your head on his arm/chest and holding his hand.
- Little snide remarks and teasing, the two of you like to banter.
- You rarely ever fight but when you do he acts rather passive aggressive, Not quite addressing the problem just making cryptic comments that you’re supposed to understand. It’s annoying but he’ll usually come to his senses pretty quickly, sigh and apologize while trying his best to actually explain how he feels.
- He’s a good bullshitter, making up little stories on the spot whenever he needs, He often entertains you with little characters that he’s created whenever you’re both bored.
- He’s a slut for handholding.
- Bowling dates.
- Study dates.
- He’s always the first person to tell you you’ll do great on a test or anything you’re worried about.
- Shy “I love you’s” every now and again.
- You plan to spend not just your high school days together, but the rest of your days as well.
#mitch kramer headcanons#mitch kramer headcanon#mitch kramer imagine#mitch kramer imagines#dazed and confused#dazed and confused imagine#dazed and confused x reader#dazed and confused headcanons#dazed and confused headcanon#90s movie imagine#90s movie headcanons#90s movie headcanon
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coming home (right into your arms)
notes: hi friends. sorry i have the vocab of a child. slightly suggestively end. mentions of two younger sisters with names, but feel free to ignore/replace the names! song accompaniment recommendation: folklore album by taylor swift!
summary: because you drew stars around my scars. AU in which the phase that made you fall in love with your soulmate is tattooed on your wrist. it starts as exceptionally light and grows darker as you fall in love until it is completely black. – kuroo/oc
wc: 6.5k
You were vaguely aware of the concept of soulmates at six years old. The words appeared on your wrist just as you were done with your latest drawing – a picture of your parents, you, and your younger sisters. It freaked you out to no end, and you cried a little when you realized you couldn't scrub the marks away. When your mom found you, you could barely blubber out why you were crying so you ended up just showing her your wrist. She stared at you with wide eyes before she let out a soft laugh, which made you temporarily stop crying to stare at her with tears still threatening to spill from your eyes. Seeing your distress, she kissed your wrist and hugged you.
"It's okay, baby. It's nothing to worry about," she whispered softly. "Those are the words that your soulmate will say to you when you fall in love with them," she paused. "It's still faint now, but one day, when you really fall in love with them, it will turn black, just like mama's."
As she said that, she showed you her wrist, onyx black words inked onto her wrist. You stared at her wrist first and traced over the words on there before you stared at her with confusion in your childish eyes. You didn't get it, but you sucked up the snot that was about to drip and wiped the unshed tears leftover in your eyes before you nodded at her since she told you it was okay. She laughed lightly again before patting your head lovingly. She continued to explain that it was something like a permanent best friend, someone who knew you and loved you.
"So, like you and daddy and Maika and Haruna?" You listed off the members of your family on your small hands and tilted your head, not understanding it.
"Something like that," your mom nodded, "But it's a little different. It's a bond that only you and your soulmate will have. You will always feel at home with them."
Your mom could tell you still didn't understand it, so she just added that it might be too complicated to understand now, but that was okay since you were still young. One day though, you will meet someone just for you. You nodded again because although you didn't know what she meant, you were excited to have another best friend in your life one day.
That night, as you laid in bed, you traced the words tattooed on your wrist as you dreamed of laughter in sunlit rooms with your parents, playful teasing between your sisters and you, and dirty socks and skinned knees on playgrounds with your friends.
~✩~✩~✩~
You were eighteen when you first met Kuroo Tetsurou. Your little sister invited you to her school's volleyball game, which you thought was rather strange since she usually didn't go out to these events, but you accepted nonetheless because you thought she looked rather nervous. She was usually bold and confident and rather independent, so you were always happy that she could lean on you if she ever needed support.
Even though your university was a few stations over, you arrived a little earlier than planned. You have never been to Nekoma before since you chose to attend a high school that was further away from your house. Since it was a good half hour earlier than planned, your little sister wasn't here yet, and you were honestly a little lost. Although you just graduated a few months ago, you felt a little out of place, wearing what you wore to class – casual clothes and thick bracelets to cover your tattoo – looking for a gym. You took a glance at your phone to see if she texted you where she was, but she hadn't sent anything else since her last update.
You huffed silently as you circled back into the same spot you were in earlier. You cursed the gods for giving you a bad sense of direction – you couldn't help it, okay? – because this always happened. Luckily, as if someone heard your silent prayers, a high schooler in a red Nekoma uniform called out to you. His bright red jersey with the number 1 on it should have been easily the first thing that drew your eye, but his messy, untamed black hair and his half-grin half-smirk smile caught your eye and somehow eased all your tensions and worries.
He asked you if you were lost, and you told him hopelessly. At that, you heard his unique sounding laugh – it almost sounds like a hyena you thought to yourself- and you couldn’t help but laugh too. When you told him you were here for the volleyball game, his eyes lit up, and you found that you rather liked his animated gray eyes despite how scheming he looked at first.
"Thank you for finding me," you mumbled and bowed gracefully as he led you to the gym.
He paused as you said those words, stopping in place. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was twisting his black wristband with shock and the slightest dust of pink on his face.
"Sorry about that. I'm happy to help," he finally flashed his unique smile again. "Hope you're here to cheer for us?"
He made you laugh effortlessly. "Of course."
Only when he disappeared in the gym lockers did you realize you didn't catch his name.
~✩~✩~✩~
Your sister arrived shortly after; her dyed hair caught your eye rather quickly. She hastily made her way next to you, mumbling quick excuse me’s and sorry’s along the way, and as she reached you, you realized that she looked absolutely starstruck by the players arriving on the court.
"Hey." You tapped her shoulder, which caused her to jump a little. You laughed as she mumbled a quick hi, filled you in on the basics of volleyball, and went back to focusing on the game, eyes trailing after a certain player. You giggled a little at the sight and thought that she was incredibly cute. Following her example, you also began focusing on the game below, taking note that the game was starting.
You were always more of an indoor person, so you never went to a volleyball game. You remembered mandatory games for physical education classes, but even then, you only did what you had to do to pass the class. Despite not knowing much about volleyball, seeing these boys try so hard to keep the ball in the air, to keep the game going, to have the tenacity and drive to win, leaving you in awe. After Nekoma scored another point, the other team called a time out. During this time, you noticed that the same boy in jersey number 1 said something to his team and it immediately lifted the tired team's spirits. You briefly wondered if he was the captain. When you heard his hyena laugh, it left an impression on you as you began to laugh – it was so contagious.
"Nee-chan," your sister began as she looked at you, "Why are you laughing like a weirdo?"
"Shh," you shushed her with your finger, "Don't worry about it. Go back to watching the game."
She didn't need to be told twice as the time out ended and the game started back in action. After the time out, the other team was steadier, but it was still too late for them to catch up to Nekoma. The player with the 1 jersey blocked a ball, and as the ball bounced back to the other side of the court, the judge shouted out the match point. At that, the gym went wild with cheers – the audience rose and clapped as the team looked to each other and bowed to the audience before lining up for handshakes. Your eyes mindless trail over all the players, and to your surprise, you ended up staring into familiar gray eyes. For a moment, it felt like the world stilled and you couldn’t breathe. Only when your sister called for you, you awoke from your trance and flashed him a smile. You saw his smile and a small wave from the corner of your eye before you directed your attention to your little sister. You still didn't really get volleyball, but you can understand why your little sister looked so starstruck after seeing these players' resilience and skill and the joy on their faces.
You were about to leave when your little sister grabbed onto the sleeve of your top with one hand. She held her phone on one hand, screen still on a conversation with someone, and blurted, "Nee-chan, wait! I'll introduce you! Stay with me!" She looked at you with almost pleading eyes.
You were a little cautious because you didn't want to be in the middle of yet another set up by your little sister. You raised an eyebrow at her before she pouted, looking a lot more nervous than the usual playful teasing she had in her eye when she tried to set you up. "Please?"
"Okay, lover girl," you laughed, "Only because you asked so nicely."
She introduced you to the team shortly afterward. To be honest, you didn’t really even know your sister was interested in volleyball or were on such friendly terms with the volleyball team. However, when you saw their interactions, it warmed your heart to know that your sister was surrounded by people who loved her. She reckoned that they should call you two by your first names because it would just get too confusing if they addressed both of you by your last name here. That gave various reactions amongst the team members: some stuttered and stumbled saying your names, some had no trouble at all. When you caught your sister’s face heating up after the one whom she introduced as Kozume Kenma mumbled her name hesitantly, you began to understand why she wanted you here. As the players began leaving one by one, it ended up with the four of you: your sister, you, Kozume Kenma, and your savior in red, Kuroo Tetsurou.
Picking up on the fact that your sister liked Kenma, you were trying to figure out ways to let them have a little bit more time to themselves. It seemed like Kuroo had the same idea as you because as you excused yourself from the group, he mentioned that he will walk you to the station as it was late. You swore you saw your little sister's fingers fumbling the edge of her top, and you laughed lightly at how flustered and cute she was being. You gave a small wave with a smile on your face before made your way out with Kuroo by your side.
You guys didn't get to talk much since it was a group conversation contributed by everyone. However, based on your observations and few interactions, it was unsurprising that conversation with Kuroo was easy. He was charming and observant, easily filling in conversation when you didn't, and even the quiet in between conversations felt comfortable, like you've known each other for years.
Within your short conversations, you found out that he was a year younger and unexpectedly wanted to study chemistry in university. He was indeed the captain of his team and he loved his teammates as much as he loved the sport. You learned that despite his cat-like eyes, he loved dogs, and his hair was like that because it was his natural bedhead. You learned that all the walls you thought you built up felt absolutely paper-thin as your heart began to flutter in a way it hadn't for years, and your wrist pulsed so intensely in ways that it had never before. You quickly pushed that thought down as you reach the train station. When you thanked him and bid him goodbye, he casually waved and let out a half-grin half-smirk smile, and you thought that was unquestionably adorable. He waited until you were out of sight before he left to make sure you got on the train safely, and as you sat down on the train, you began tracing the words on your wrist.
For the first time in a long time, you noticed that the words were darker, and suddenly, your heart stopped, and you bit your lips as your heart started to ache.
~✩~✩~✩~
Black hair and gray eyes never really left your mind, but you tried not to think of Kuroo Tetsurou too much after that night because you didn't think you would meet him again. It was all in vain though because you found that you thought of him a lot whenever you saw red, and somehow, that happened to be your new favorite color. As you wrapped your red scarf around your neck during the end of winter, you bumped into someone in the chemistry building on campus when you were rushing to your next class.
"Whoah, easy there," he grabbed onto your arm before you fell, "Are you alright?"
It took you a few seconds to stabilize yourself before you nodded. "Thank you."
Just as you looked up, your eyes met his gray ones, and your surprise mirrored his as your mouth dropped a little. You didn't know if your face felt hot because of the chilling wind or the man in front of you.
"Kuroo-san," you said airily, "What are you doing here?"
"Hey," he nodded and smiled. "I'm checking out this campus. I got accepted into the chemistry program here. I didn't think I would run into you."
"Congratulations!" You exclaimed, "I didn't think I'd run into you either. I'm sorry, by the way, for literally running into you."
He laughed before brushing it off, and you laughed alongside him because his laughter was so contagious, and it was just so simple being with him. It was like you two fell into a comfortable pattern even though you've only had one conversation months ago.
"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have class in a few minutes," you began as the laughter died down. "How long will you be on campus? I'll treat you to lunch! As a congratulation."
"There's no need for that," he declined gently, "But I will be here for another hour or so, I think. I have a meeting and a tour with the chemistry professor scheduled soon. Let's meet for lunch?"
"Sure," you agreed happily.
"Here, put your number in, and I'll text you?" he handed you his phone.
"Kuroo-san," you began as you typed in your number. "You're so smooth." You laughed as you handed his phone back to him and left for class.
You didn't see the smile on his face nor the longing look in his eyes as they followed your retreating figure.
~✩~✩~✩~
With that, Kuroo and you began texting quite often. Often, you found yourself with your phone nearby at any moment, awaiting responses from him. He was an absolute dork and loved lame chemistry puns and silly memes, and he made you laugh like no others. He was sassy in a way, and sometimes he was just so easy to sass back. When you were talking with him, it felt like your heart was a little lighter from the endless cycle of failed experiments, lab reports, and vicious exams.
Once he started classes, you two began studying together quite often. Since you two had the same major and he was taking classes you already took, you gave him pointers on the key points and what the professors like the test on. While he hadn't taken your classes yet, sometimes he could reinterpret the concepts and notes you struggled with although he didn't quite understand the topic itself. It was so helpful that studying together quite often became more often than not, and late-night coffee runs and post-exam meals became a tradition. At one point during midterms week, you were quite sure you were at his apartment more than you were at yours, and Kuroo became Tetsurou before he became just Tetsu.
With all this time you spent with each other, you learned more and more about Kuroo. He was undoubtedly charismatic, and he loved to tease you and your poor sense of direction and inability to function before 10 am despite you signing up for 8 am classes. He was perceptive and keen on your emotions: he knew to suggest for a walk around campus to clear your mind when you were too stressed, he knew to send you lame chemistry memes and bring you food when you felt down about doing poorly on an exam, he knew to just hold you and let you cry when you felt hopeless about your future. Likewise, you cooked him meals for when his exam schedule was chaotic and he forgot to eat, you waited for him after exams to celebrate regardless of how he did, you lent him your lap when he was too tired to make it to bed. You were sure that you had one – or two, or three, who was keeping count anyway – of his hoodies from nights when you forgot to bring a jacket or were too cold after partying together.
Sometimes you do realize the two of you might be blurring boundaries a little during late nights when you talk to each other about your childhoods and fears, your dreams and aspirations, your favorite people and close friends. The lines were blurred when your hands brush and you would catch his eyes staring at your lips, and sometimes he'd hold your hand when your hands were cold, and you would wear his hoodies because they were comfortable and smelled like him. The lines blurred when he unknowingly leaving parts of him – pens, chemistry books, a volleyball, clothes – at your apartment, and you had a set of accumulated mismatched utensils and a toothbrush at his and even his roommate became a sort of friend of yours. Everything with Kuroo was just so straightforward and fun because he just understood you, and it terrified you to no end because of how simple it was, and you could just be you.
You tried to not think of this too much because you were scared that it was all in your head. You knew you were falling in love with Kuroo, and a part of you knew he felt the same. But you were hurt by love before, and you didn't want to be burned twice. You knew he wasn't your ex, but you didn't know yourself. It was like your head knew Kuroo was bad, bad news, but your heart just kept going forward, craving to be his presence, to be with him. With each night, you realized that your tattoo grew darker and darker.
You asked Kuroo if he believed in soulmates one day while you two were watching a movie at your apartment during a chill night in between exams. It was some sappy rom-com your roommate suggested before she left for the night, and you two decided it would be a good laugh since it looked so cheesy.
He looked straight into your eyes, his gray ones blazing and passionate, like he was looking through your pretenses and directly into your soul, before he whispered, "I do."
You felt so bare and vulnerable under his fierce eyes, and you couldn't face his intensity, so you pulled your knees up into your chest before you buried your face in them. You hesitated before you shared your next thought, "I fell in love once, you know."
Your heart felt so heavy as you said that. It happened so long ago, and you would think five years was a long time to get over someone. While you do think you were over your ex, the wounds he left scarred and carved an everlasting dent on you. Kuroo tensed a little from your statement but didn't say anything otherwise, but you caught his eyes never leaving your form from the corner of your eyes as he reached out to pat your head gently. He was waiting for you to continue.
"I was fourteen, and we had a total meet cute moment where I bumped into him around the corner and he caught me on my first day of school."
At that, he let out a small laugh, "Yeah, you do tend to bump into people."
"Shut up! I'm trying to tell my tragic backstory here!" You untucked your head from your knees to look at him and pouted, but you felt a little less smothered by your memories now.
"He was everything I could have ever asked for. He was cute and smart, and he had big dreams, and I wanted to be right there, next to him, when he made his dreams come true. Maybe I was just young and insecure, but I changed my whole lifestyle to cater to his. He was older than me and he was popular, so I did everything I could to impress him. I changed my hairstyle, learned how to wear makeup, got my cartilage pierced – twice! – to stand out. I would drop everything if he asked me to hang out. It felt like I was on top of the world."
You fell silent because you wanted to cry but nothing came out. You were a lot older now, and the pain dulled with time. However, the heartache never completely went away, and you wanted to fall apart. Seeing your distress, Kuroo pulled you from your ball form and into his lap, one hand on the small of your back to hold you, the other stroking your hair gently.
"You don't have to tell me, you know?" he whispered in your hair. "It's okay."
You only shook your head against his chest. "I became so captivated with him that I only knew me when I was with him, and I didn't know who I was before or without him. I built myself around him. I changed into his ideals, I fitted myself into his life without him trying to fit in mine, I became who he thought I was. But the tattoo never changed colors, and I waited and waited and waited for him to say those words, but he never did. When those illusions shattered, it was all over."
Kuroo only continued to stroke your hair gently, and you found the sound of his heartbeat rather reassuring. It kept you grounded as you trekked through your memories.
"I think I lost a part of me trying to love him," you finally managed to breathe out after collecting your thoughts.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to show the best parts of yourself to the person you love," Kuroo said as he shifted to rest his chin on top of your head and held you with both of arms.
"I don't know who I am," you whispered, sounding as broken and helpless as you felt. You were always open with Kuroo because he was someone you had absolute trust in. Being with him came so serene and warm, but you never felt as defenseless and raw when you told him your feelings. While you shared with Kuroo your childhood fears, it was never as deep as your number one insecurity. You hadn't opened up about how lost you felt without your ex in a long time, and honestly, you felt like you had no personality other than what you want the recipient to perceive. Your heart was aching, but something was soothing about Kuroo's embrace that kept you here, at this moment, instead of inside your head.
"But I know you," he declared confidently like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I know you hate mornings and can't get through the day without espresso even though you would much prefer tea. I know you grind your teeth when you're about to fall asleep even though you have no recollection of this every morning. I know you are super picky about your ramen portions because you get upset when your meat-to-noodle ratio gets off. I know you love the stars even though you hate going outside because you hate bugs, and you'd much rather be lounging around in my hoodies because they’re comfortable. I know you sometimes stutter and skip your words when you get excited about chemistry, but your eyes shine so bright and your dimples show when you laugh. These are just some things about you. I can tell you more if you're interested," he teased as he moved to look into your eyes.
Your eyes widened. The words you never thought you would hear ignited a fire in your heart and set ablaze on your wrist like you never felt before as you listened to him talk about you with so much love in his voice. Your heart, dejected and fearful, began to beat apace, pulsing quickly as your wrist continued to burn. You felt like your whole being was on fire, and you looked up from his chest to his eyes, searching and searching. You only found that there was nothing but the truth in his eyes, and your body felt electrified – time had stopped, and you could hear, feel your heartbeat pounding rapidly. Then, you tore your eyes away from his, slowly took off your bracelet, only to find the words tattooed on your wrist completely blacked.
His eyes followed your movement, and when he saw your wrist, he let out a shaky, "Oh!" Once he seemed to collect himself more, he reached for your wrist and kissed it.
"Looks like it's a match," he breathed out faintly as he took off his wristband, 'thank you for finding me' tattooed on his wrist, bold and black.
You stared at his tattoo, at him, and then averted your eyes as a feeble attempt to run away from the conversation. The tears you didn't know you were holding fell freely because you were so scared, so confused, so happy. You were a complete mess of emotions because he was everything you never thought you wanted. He was your rock, your best friend, your support in the past year, and you were not supposed to fall in love.
He recognized your change in emotions and gently slid his hands into yours. "Please don't run from me."
You stared around your apartment, hyper-focused on the long-forgotten movie in the background, scared to look at him because you felt so exposed. You didn't want him to know how you felt about him because when you were on a high, you can only fall from here. Being with him was your high, and while you were sure you could live without him, it was going to be a new low. Love was scary because it can break so easily. You were so scared.
"Look at me."
You looked up at him. He was always goofy and dorky, constantly teasing, and he always made you feel better about your worries because he always listened and fought your demons with you. But here he was, looking so seriously into your eyes, baring his soul and looking as vulnerable as you felt.
"I'm sorry," you began, not really knowing why you were apologizing in the first place. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?" he questioned, hands never leaving yours and eyes never straying away.
"I just – " you paused, "I don't know."
"Do you love me?" he asked quietly. His voice soft, genuine, and almost inaudible, as if he was also scared to hear the answer. You felt afraid again.
"I'm sorry," you apologized again between sobs.
"Please answer the question," he pressed on softly before he took one hand off yours to wipe your tears.
"I do," you admitted after seconds of silence, "I do, Tetsu. I love you so much that it scares me because love breaks so easily."
You hiccuped and paused, trying to think of the words.
"It's okay to not think about it too hard, you dummy. Just tell me what you're thinking," he prompted, words kind and gentle, as he gently brushed his thumb over the space between your thumb and pointer finger.
"Okay," you promised, "I can try."
You breathed in and looked away from him, "I'm sorry because I love you. I know I can be overbearing. Love is scary because look, I'm like baring all my soul out to you right now. What if I lost you? What if you don't want to be around me anymore? What if you only think you knew me but the real me is just a disappointment? I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared. I just – "
"I love you," he stopped you in the middle of your ramble.
You gaped at him because you can't believe your ears. You were unsure if you imagined that in your head as part of your ramble, and what if he was just saying that. Your brain was going into overdrive because you cannot think of why he would love you. Your eyes trailed away from his again because his stare was so intense and vivid, and you started to ramble again.
"Wait did you understand what I said? What if you started to lose interest in me? I'm just me and – "
"I love you," he repeated, more firm this time, gently tugging your hand to get you to look at him.
"But I – "
"I love you," he said for the third time, unyielding in his voice. You were so startled that when he nudged you to look at him again, you did. His eyes showed no hesitation, and you were an absolute mess.
"But what if I'm not enough?" you managed to choke out. "What if I'm not the one you're looking for? Wait, am I even making sense?"
"You are," he countered your worries, "Because I know you."
Your eyes widened as he said the words tattooed on your wrist again, and your world stopped. It felt like all the years of soul searching and heartache were disappearing. It felt like you found the part of you that you lost before. It felt like you can breathe again. You gasped as the tattoo on your wrist pulse rapidly once again alongside your thumping heart.
You couldn't believe this was happening to you. You spent so long being lost and now it felt like someone was calling you back home. You felt like you remembered what it was like to feel starstruck and soft, to feel okay to see the stars in his eyes. Your eyes trailed from your tattoo to his and finally to his eyes, and when you saw his dorky half-grin half-smirk smile, you smiled despite looking like a teary mess.
"Thank you for finding me," you whispered weakly and shyly, almost scared that this dream would shatter if you broke it.
"That's the second time you said it," he laughed loudly, his tattoo out opened for you to see.
You nodded slowly and a smile broke out before your laughter joined his. As you calm down from your laugh, you felt him staring at you.
"Can I kiss you?" he blurted, cheeks dusted with a slight pink, looking absolutely in love.
At that moment, you didn’t know why or how you doubted yourself – your worth, who you were, as a woman – when he looked at you like this, like you were the only one he saw in this world. "Okay," you whispered lightly before you leaned in.
He closed the distance between, and your mundane days of black and white burst into color and turned the grayed-out skies into a world of stars. It was like your soul finally found another who gave you comfort and peace while simultaneously setting your heart on fire and giving you starry night skies. He was your end and your beginning, and it felt like you were finally home.
~✩~✩~✩~
“How long have you been in love with me?” you questioned one day, laying on the ground with your hands folded on top of your stomach, eyes averted from your laptop. Your microbiology lab report final was due in a few days, and you were tired of looking at the data you’ve collected and the research books after the 25 pages you’ve already typed. So here you were, questioning your existence on this earth because school really sucked.
The sound of Kuroo's pen stopped, and your eyes trailed from looking at the wall of fairy lights and Polaroid pictures to him. He pursed his lips a little, balancing his pen on top, and leaned back into the couch. You stared at him as he sat in silence, lost in his thoughts, and your heart fluttered because he was just so stupidly handsome. If he wasn’t so absorbed in his thoughts, you had no doubt he would tease you for staring.
“I don’t know,” he answered finally, “My tattoo darkened when you came to our volleyball game in my third year of high school, and before I knew it, it just became pitch black.”
“Huh,” you thought out loud, “That far back?”
He grinned, “Yeah. I thought you looked like a mess when you kept walking around in circles. If you weren’t so cute, I would have reported you to the police.”
You gasped loudly and dramatically, “You watched me suffer for that long?! You suck!”
“Hey, I came to help in the end, didn’t I?” he countered without any bite in his voice, pouting a little.
“Yeah,” you smiled at the memory, “My hero in red. Thank you for finding me.”
At that, he got up from the couch and pulled you into his lap before nuzzling in your hair, “I’ll always find you, princess. Always.”
~✩~✩~✩~
You were already half asleep in bed when you felt the sheets rustle. You both had class early tomorrow morning, but you figured you can try to stay up as Kuroo finished his shower after coming home late from intramural volleyball practice.
"Sorry, did I wake you?" he whispered, not wanting to wake you from your sleep.
"No," you mumbled half-lies, "Was waiting for you." You lifted the large blanket with one hand, signaling for him to get in.
He settled into the empty spot, and you threw the blanket over him as an attempt to tuck him in. "Don't lie to me, you dummy," he laughed, "I know you."
That phrase set your heart on fire every time because it felt so powerful, and it made you feel so whole.
You smiled lazily and looked for his hand under the sheets. He grabbed your searching hand and laced your fingers together. Your sleepy smile brightened, turning into a cheesing grin, and you tugged him closer to give him a quick kiss. "Welcome home."
"I'm home."
And those words never felt so right.
~✩~✩~✩~
You rubbed your groggy eyes as the sunlight shone through the blinds. You automatically reached beside you, patting the empty space where Kuroo normally laid. You puffed your cheeks in a pout before you saw it was almost noon on your phone.
On cue, the sound of sizzles and the scent of breakfast drifted through the door. Begrudgingly, you got up, wore Kuroo's discarded shirt by the bed, and headed into the kitchen to find him with only his stupidly sexy gray sweatpants and your cat apron on, grilling some salted mackerel pike.
You heard him softly hum the opening of the science anime you two were watching, and as you do every other day, felt so lucky that he was here, and he was yours. He was so beautiful, and in normal everyday moments like this, you felt so at peace, at home with him. Before you knew it, you walked up and wrapped your arms around him.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he greeted lovingly. “I started on brunch.”
“Good morning,” you mumbled in response before planting soft kisses on his bare back. “It smells great. But we’re going to turn into mackerel pike with all the mackerel pikes we’ve been eating lately.”
He laughed before he teased, "If you don't stop kissing me, mackerel pike won't be the only thing I'm eating.”
Even though you've been together for years now, he still made your heart flutter like he did the very first day. You smiled before grinning deviously and tiptoed to plant another kiss on his neck. “Maybe that's the point.” You paused before you pulled him down a little and spoke quietly in his ear as if to let him in on a secret, "I'm not wearing underwear."
You ran toward your shared bedroom laughing as you heard the clinking of the thrown spatula and discarded apron, the clicking of the now-off stovetop, and his footsteps as he ran after you. His long strides caught up to you in no time, and he easily scooped you up and carried you bridal style the rest of the way to the bedroom.
"That was naughty, princess," he whispered seductively in your ear. You felt his hot breath on your skin, and you were glad he was carrying you because he always could make you weak.
"Sorry baby," you wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes big and pleading, pretending to look innocent because you know it turned him on without fail to ruin that feign innocence.
"You don't even have to ask twice," he said as he slipped his hand under the oversized shirt you were wearing.
You kissed him fiercely while you repositioned yourself to wrap your legs around his waist, your hands in his hair. With your shirt now discarded somewhere in the bedroom and your back against the walls, preparation for brunch was long forgotten.
As he continued to tease you relentlessly between heated kisses, your stomach rumbled.
He stared at you, you stared at him, and you both blinked before bursting into laughter.
"Babe, was that your stomach?" he asked through his laughter.
"Yeah, pancakes and hash browns sound really good right now, to be honest," you answered truthfully, a little embarrassed but not ashamed. You were never ashamed of who you were around him.
"That does sound good," he agreed, "Well, I guess it's time to make some pancakes and hash browns then." He pulled his hands away and set you down with a teasing glint in his eyes.
You whined in frustration as his warmth left you, and not willing to stop, you pulled back him to you and nibbled on his ear before purring, "Daddy, you can fill me up first."
After, you found yourselves making pancakes and hash browns - with grilled salted mackerel pike that Kuroo was cooking before your interruption – for brunch. As you watched him eat, you caught a glimpse of his onyx black tattoo. Your eyes flickered to your wrist, tattoo matching in color with his, and you smiled fondly. He seemed to notice your smile, and although you were fairly sure he had no idea what you were smiling at, he smiled too.
Honestly, if this wasn't happiness, you don't know what is.
~✩~✩~✩~
you taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else.
~✩~✩~✩~
tags: @hoekaashi
#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsurou x oc#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo tetsurou x you#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x oc#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#hq!!#kuroo x oc#kuroo x you#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x oc#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo tetsuro x you#sometimes i write things#head empty kuroo tetsurou only#no beta we die like daichi#also lowkey inspired by tswifts folklore album#text
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Tongue Tied
Notes: This is another Valentine’s Day fic, except it’s a bit shorter.This is for those who rather have pure, straight up fluff
Setting: I wanted childhood friends au. OOC Tai, kinda. Tried to make it short and sweet for Valentine’s Day, along with my other fic that’s more plot-y and smutty tOTALLY does revolve around yokai: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427309
When you first met him, you were both about eight. He was round, cheeky, and friendly, greeting you to the new neighborhood. Only being eight, and not really having any friends, you were rather shy. He grinned, holding up a bag of blue gummy sharks. Eagerly but hesitantly, you complied, and he beamed at you with a blush, seemingly to rival the sun as he introduced himself.
“-but ya can call me Tai-chan!”
Regularly, his mom and your mom became close friends, and often brought the two of you to the park. Him being the only familiar, friendly face, you followed him everywhere, like a little puppy. He would be always smiling and talking, falling in step beside you as he munched on whatever or whichever his mom had brought for him, sharing with you, and you offered your own snacks.
He grew on you, taking you everywhere, creating blanket and pillow forts, and promised that the two of you will be best friends forever. Although rather shy, you were extremely protective of him, finding your young self snapping at bullies when they’ve made fun of his weight, and making sure that he was alright. He would look at you shyly yet with a soft grin and rub the back of his head, telling you that you were amazing.
………………..
You were both ten. In two years, you’ve grown very close to him. Of course, his family and doctor worrying about his weight, had put him on a diet. He was still a little round, but had grown a few inches taller. You didn’t care, as long as he was your friend. Who you totally did not have a small crush on. Nope.
The two of you were in his living room, resting in your own separate sleeping bags as Bambi played on the VHS. No matter how many times the two of you seen it, his eyes would always water up when a particular scene came along as he shoved popcorn in his mouth. All you could really do was pat his shoulder gently, causing him to stutter and have the same odd red tint to his cheeks as he laughed nervously. You stared at his odd behavior, but shrugged, reaching for the popcorn as the two of you talked about future dreams and other things as the sleepover crawled on.
By this time, you’ve knew him a bit more, use to hanging out at his house, and his yours. Cooking and baking with each other’s respective moms, was a common weekend thing.
……………………………..
He’d gotten a bit more loud and rowdy, but was still sweet as ever. Of course, being twelve, the two of you were experiencing your own physical and mental changes. Voice cracking, outgrowing baby fat, the two of you were still close. He’d gotten many scrapes and bruises, however, while being rowdy and not as careful, and he’d grumble a little with a pink tint to his cheeks, as you hushed him, placing a Hello Kitty band-aid on his cut.
Although a bit more older, the two of you still drank Capri-sun, watched classics on his VCR, and he didn’t mind that you tagged along wherever he went. Imagine his surprise when you’ve gotten a little braver, not hesitating to cheer him on during sports tryouts, or started doing more things of your own without him. Of course, the both of your parents were wary of the two of you spending the entire night for some weird reason, but you still hung out for most of the day, swapping Pokemon cards and playing on the old gaming system while mindlessly talking like you’ve always done.
…………………..
High school was somewhat different. He was an awkward fifteen year old boy, but head-strong, tall, and a bit more lanky. You were still a little quiet and shy, but the two of you stuck close to each other like glue. He’d drag you to his baseball tournaments, and you’d invite him to your archery ones. He still was rowdy and somewhat of a hyper, cute klutz, grinning from ear to ear with pink cheeks as you sighed, wrapping yet another band-aid around his cuts.
You, being still young, had to bite down an odd feeling that came over you when he was surrounded by girls. You didn’t understand it, they were just being friendly, right? He looked rather uncomfortable, but was still red in the face as he kept making glances at you, a silent plea for help.
It’s when the bullying had started. The whispers and rumors, all because you helped him escape from a gaggle of young teens. He, being protective as always, shot glares and scowls at those who dared even came close to you, telling you that it was alright to defend yourself, and to call on him if he needed anything. So, while there was some bullying, the budding attention from kids hitting puberty, was a bit worse.
He was agitated for some weird reason, yet kept a dopey smile for your sake when you kept receiving love letters and confessions. You didn’t miss the relief in his eyes when you turned them all down, and vice versa when he stated that he wasn’t really interested in most of the people in your school. You didn’t fail to notice that he kept looking at you for an extra two seconds, but dismissed it.
……………
Senior year wasn’t as bad as freshman year. He, with all of his practice in sports and such, grew a bit of muscle mass, but at eighteen, was round and taller, around six foot, easily dwarfing you. Although older teens, you’ve kept in touch despite the crazy amount of tests, finals, and new friends. People were murmuring in awe at how the two of you were so close, and yet weren’t a couple. It didn’t stop either of your ears burning, but neither of you had either dated, only fueling those rumors.
He was very popular, as were you, despite your shyness and liking to blend in. Two peas in a pod, yet almost opposite personalities described him and you. You liking to read, and him liking to play sports and be outside. It didn’t stop you from following him around, him chuckling and ruffling your hair as you played a few games with him, or him hanging out with you at the library.
Of course, a lot of admirers from both sides were jealous because of the two of your closeness. You still politely refused the applicants of the love letters, and he, gaining more courage, stated that he wasn’t really interested in the gaggle of fawners who surrounded him. The two of you had constantly protected each other from unwanted bullies and too pushy one-sided interests while living your own lives.
It took longer than you’d like to admit, but you’ve gotten a part-time job as well as your license, him not wanting to be left behind, followed after. You forever had the image burned in your brain that Monday morning. He, waiting for you, sported a Letterman jacket, beat up sneakers, grinning wildly and proudly as he leaned against his new car. It was an older model, but you were proud of him, and plus, he was still doing things to your chest that you did not understand.
“Get in, Sugar, we’re goin’ fer a spin.” He smiled, holding up his new keys, and you couldn’t help but feel cicadas buzz gently within your stomach.
Prom was different. You weren’t really interested in going, and instead, the two of you spent the night at your house, baking cookies and listening to old songs on the radio. He smiled, wearing your mom’s apron as he swiveled to the music, causing you to laugh more than you should as he mimicked her, cursing about the neighborhood children and gushing about soap operas.
The tiny desserts ended up being burnt, his hair was wild, and the two of you were a laughing mess, reflecting childhood days.
By the end of the night, he looked like he wanted to say something before he left, but instead, gave you one of his warm, gooey smiles that made your heartbeat quicken.
……………..
College had a unique spin to it. Tests weren’t as frequent, but they were a bit harder. There were online classes, more deadlines, and yet, despite it all, nicer, calmer teachers. You, being an excellent student, earned your funding through the school. Of course you broke away from living at your parent’s house, and had to support yourself further by working, but it was worth it.
The dorm rooms were roomy, and your roommate, who was blessed with common courtesy, was kind and distant. He, attached to you at the hip, followed the same pattern, almost, except he’d chosen a different career. Oddly, he wanted to become a teacher, but the more you thought about it, the more you could see it. Always friendly, warm, and generous, an inner part of you knew that he was good around children, and it’d be a perfect career choice.
You yourself, only nineteen, had liked the idea of biology, studying animals and their habits. It also put the two of you in a lot of the same classes for the next four years. Despite studying, working, and worrying, the two of you had seemed to find extra time for each other. Granted it was more to study, but a lot of places were in the cafeteria, at the local coffee shops, and sometimes in your dorm room if your roommate was out. Within the four years before graduating, you’ve discovered more about your own feelings for the blond, and had secretly accepted them. You didn’t know of his own feelings towards you other than a very close friend, but you were surprised that he turned down popular, pretty people.
To say that you were relieved, was an understatement, but you couldn’t fathom why he’d turn down so many nice admirers. You’d accepted the fact that he might be asexual, or aromantic, and cherished him as your close friend no matter what the outcome might have been.
……………….
Graduation was celebrated with lots of laughter and cheer from both of you and your families. Not really having a place, the two of you, being really close, decided to rent together on a lease. Age twenty-three, the two of you had to struggle a bit to find jobs, but luckily, with his charm and endearing personality, it didn’t take him too long to land as a kindergarten teacher, and you, with your experiences and tenaciousness, landed in the science lab some miles over.
The two of you worked perfectly together, splitting bills and chores, making meals, it was almost as if the two of you were a couple, due to your wishful thinking. Which, to be fair, you thought and wondered a lot. What was the two of your relationship, what were you waiting for, and so on. It was growing on you, and you were feeling as if you had enough. Although not blaming him, you wanted to spend as much time at work as possible, staying away from the very being who made your heart soar and yet hurt from the questioning and pining.
He, being very keen, noticed immediately of your sudden absence. Going early and coming home later, eating briefly with that odd, distant look in your eyes as you joined in on his conversations, but it was as if you were replaced by something else. It was driving him mad, because in all of his years of knowing you, it didn’t add up.
One night, you came home to an odd sight. The table, although already set neatly, had your favorite dish set out on a platter. He sat there, pouring two glasses of wine as he stared at you.
“This ain’t like ya, Chickadee.” He stated bluntly, setting your glass near the platter, and you sighed, sitting down. Of course he’d notice, and although you felt guilty, you needed to give yourself space from the accepted, yet buzzing emotions welling within you.
“Ya wanna talk about it?” Was the silent plea, and you, caught off guard by the sheer hurt in his voice, found yourself nodding.
…………..
Present. The two of you, adults, sat at the table as he stared at you intently with a look of worry and hurt. He was your friend, and you guessed that it wouldn’t hurt to let loose your feelings, so he could know, and let you down, gently. Taking a breath, you started.
His eyes were widened, but he didn’t speak as you spoke. Letting the weight of your concerns and feelings be lifted off of your shoulders as you could only briefly make eye-contact. He was stunned, to say at least, but it’s what you’ve been feeling for years. As soon as you finished, you bravely stared at him, to drink in his reactions to your inner conflict. Swallowing thickly, he set his utensil down as he gave you a warm, heated stare.
“We’re both a lil’ dense, ain’t we, Sugar?”
You couldn’t help but nod a little as he stood up, walking over towards you to stare at you. It was your turn to look surprised, letting him cup your face, and lean in. Soft and warm, just like him, you couldn’t help but think as finally, finally, the two of you shared a kiss. The soft fluttering of butterflies within your stomach melted with a warm heat within your gut, surprising you in an instant as the two of you had broken away, him staring at you with a soft smile and a hot blush to his cheeks.
“Ya know how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that?” He asked rather shyly.
“Since we were eight?”
“Right on the nose. Ya as well?” He grinned, kissing your forehead gently at your nod.
“We gotta lotta talkin’ to do, but how ‘bout we start things proper with a date?”
You gently took his hand within yours, rubbing your thumb over the back in soft circles.
“Sounds perfect.”
………………
Short bc I had a 12k fic already done not too long ago, and this is for the crowd who just wanted fluff and cuteness.
#Taishiro Toyomitsu#Fatgum#Fatgum x reader#Like I had permission from a sweet artist to let me write the visuals in my other fic#And they gave me permission to post it on A03#I was unsure about Tumblr so I left a link to my fanfic account
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