#yes it will take years because I don’t have infinite money but okay???

[dimsilver]

girl help I can’t sleep because I’m thinking too much about the near-infinite aesthetic richness of the human experience available to me

[pokeheros-drama]

Nuggets and other strange things

'Ello drama blog! I'm back with your daily state of the union address... (oh wait, wrong speech.) Hello, mod. How's it going? Okay? Oh, you're still putting up with these people? Yeah, I'm so sorry.

AHEM. Anyway, it is I, AnonymousEconomist, back with another economic discussion. Yes, today's topic is #secretnuggetsociety. I'm sure you've all seen Yako's post about how they want to "start a Black Market for cheap Nuggets, and people with a ticket could join it, Like a secret society lol, I guess Nuggets prices are really making me think about this!" Heck, 68 of you all have liked the post at the time of my report.

And this is a very interesting notion from an economic standpoint. Let's first review supply and demand. Now in lesson one, we discussed the tax in the item market, and I basically explained the way around the tax was to actually hold your goods. As the seller, you want supply to decrease (so you have less competition), and demand to increase (so more people buy the goods). But in this scenario, it's a little different.

Now on pokeheroes, we have two benchmark currencies: the pokedollar, and the nugget. Their value is determined in relation to each other. As the nugget appreciates (becomes more valuable), the pokedollar MUST depreciate (become less valuable). Since pokedollars are infinitely more common than nuggets, a depreciation in pokedollar HURTS EVERYONE. 

So the solution to regulation of the economy is for these prices to remain constant. The actual number is arbitrary: it doesn't matter whether or not the nugget equivalates to 1500pd or 2000pd. So long as the nugget price is stable, the economy is stable. 

Obviously there will be some fluctuations. Riako may feel generous and sell nuggets at 1700pd, Domodoco may try to scam someone with 2000pd nuggets. All is fair in individual economic transactions. But the site has regulators for a reason. If Riako MANUALLY overrides the price generators in the item market, and affixes the "fair price" of nuggets in the item market as permanent, the economy would be in a lot better shape.

Here is my opinion of Yako's initiative: it is admirable, but it won't work. The users who have large amounts of nuggets are looking to trade them instead of selling them. Just check out the GTS... you'll see them offering nuggets for gems (cough, Bun-Bun, Nika~). And that's fine! But Yako will need to convince these people to sell their nuggets for pd in the item market. These users will need to take a loss on their profits. 

Yako also needs to control 80% or more of ALL GTS nugget transactions. And they will need to do this for a month at least. At this point, those listings of 50 nuggets matter, because if they deviate from the target price too much, they can hurt the average more than a sale 200 nuggets on target. From a mathematics viewpoint, it's difficult.

It's hard, and users on this site are selfish. Besides, their club is ridiculously exclusionary. 500 hours and one year of PH membership... this completely discriminates against users who have quietly been accumulating their daily rewards, or those new users that splurge on nuggets with real money. You have to be accessible for all. It has to be a community effort.

Then of course, there are the users I mentioned in my first post who have a lot of pd to kill. They might just buy up all the cheap nuggets and resell them a month later for 2000pd. Yako is inadvertently consolidating all of the site's nuggets into the hands of those rich enough to purchase them. Even at 1500pd per nugget, a user has to have 75kpd handy to buy some. And bulk order nuggies are all the rage.

I wish I could be more optimistic. In my limited capacity, I have even thought of liking the post and helping the initiative... but perhaps I am too pessimistic. 

@Yako, if you read this, you don't need to make the nuggets cheaper. You only need to hold the price within a constant from here on out. 

I hope this helped, young economists. Keep educating yourself, keep learning, and stay sharp. If someone tries to lowball you, just say no. Unless you are part of the nugget black market. Then let the lowballing begin.

-Anonymous Economist

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

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

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

then he turns up at your door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No human could ever look this good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After you, please,” he says.

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

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

“Not as pretty as you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's just depressing, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Purple.”

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

You think it suits him better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend. 

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Of course, you never do.)

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

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

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

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

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

You promptly roll off the sofa.

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

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

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

Ah. 

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

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

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

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

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

V looks utterly enraptured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go for it,” you say.

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

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

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

Just for an instant.

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

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

But then V laughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

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

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

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

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

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

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

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

“Morning,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Thank God.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

So you do.)

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

“Morning.”

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

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

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

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

It’s… nice.

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[steveyockey]

do you think that -- if they WERE planning to do gay angel press initially -- part of the reason they didn't might have been the (reactionary) bury your gays backlash from fans and non-fans? in which case. twitter rly does ruin everything. :/

I’m not tied to this but here’s a hypothetical to work through that at least provides a theory on the lack of gay angel press (probably not very different from any other theory on this website but just writing it out for continuity),

okay. pre-pandemic. the arc of the final few episodes seems to have been set and 15.18 was the last piece, pending jensen’s approval. roadhouse heaven ending was a go — presumably featuring a cas cameo among other various and sundry friends. approving 15.18 introduces a problem by way of the fact that cas has just confessed his undying love for dean and there’s an expected response. but it’s fine! you don’t actually need that, you’ve been baiting fans for a decade, you can work your magic one more time with a lil wink and nudge and never have to deal with that again. ambiguous “to each his own” ending, you talk up the gay angel on one side and the bronly-ness of the last hunt on the other; everyone walks away happy. you have successfully threaded the needle of finishing off a twelve year queerbait without “caving to the fans,” high fives all around.

15.18 gets filmed. the angel is gay gay. the footage is. we don’t know what the footage looks like. there could be anything. maybe there’s a kiss with tongue. ends up not really mattering because the pandemic happens and they have to stop shooting and stop airing. no idea how much changes in 15.19 (clearly SOME stuff considering we know the folks who got chuck snapped in the silo were supposed to be shown back in the flesh and that got cut). 15.20 has to change — so roadhouse heaven becomes three person heaven (plus the cast and crew, who were already on set so no, this is not proof they could have brought a crowd of actors anyway, it’s just. weird. I don’t like this decision. strikes me as authoritative like WE told the story not YOU. anyway). putting cas in three person heaven makes winking and nudging a lot harder to do and would make the absence of an actual substantive response to the confession uhhhh very obvious. so you have to cut cas. and then maybe you have to cut other references to cas in 15.19, maybe you cut some emotionality from dean’s side in 15.18, maybe you straight up insert the moment in 15.20 where dean tells sam to stop being an eeyore about cas’s death! we don’t know how much was changed, but there was at least the opportunity at this point to dull dean’s response to the whole thing so the absence of cas in heaven is more palatable. it’s the bronly ending, but you already gave the audience the gay angel. and the gay angel is alive and building heaven with his son! no more cashing in on the queerbait but still cashing in on canon gay.

it’s november 5th. 15.18 airs. it trends higher than the biggest election “of our lives.” holy shit! gay angel! but of course the issue is the people responding aren’t the people who have been watching the show. they don’t have context for what’s going on and “turbohell” catches on. fuck. did you kill the gay angel? of course not, he’s in heaven with his son! lisa berry can post her goodbye instagram to her character because obviously billie’s dead, she’s the villain. she’s not expected to come back. but cas is... cas is different. and he’s not dead and you won’t be taking any questions on this until we get to the end, when everyone can settle down. so you have your actors gush about the episode, you leave everyone on pins and needles so they’ll come back for two more, and then! well. 15.20. cas is “alive” technically. dean is dead, as you always planned. some people are happy, some people are middling, and some people are fucking pissed at you because apparently by not outright killing off the gay angel you promised them the gay angel was coming back. any clarification you would offer here would unspool your entire plan — gay angel on one side, brothers on the other. erasing cas isn’t the same as killing him, but you can’t say that (though misha basically did in response to the rogue translator shenanigans). killing dean wasn’t even supposed to be about cas, but now everything is about cas. you took him out of the story completely and he’s still managed to take over. and all you can say is, well, it’s always been a story about brothers.

this obviously doesn’t account for everything, such as what the fuck was uriel’s actor doing? why the fuck did the show actually give us the instructions for how to get someone out of the empty and not do it? and there’s an infinite number of things that could have happened that I would simply never guess not knowing specific onset dynamics and money decisions. whatever happened that caused this clusterfuck really does suck for everyone in that writers room who was on team gay angel because, as I have said in the past, 15.18 only works due to at least four years, if not seven or more, of consciously writing the angel as gay. I hope bobo and yockey and even misha feel personal satisfaction at a job well done, but god if a single fucking interview could at least let us indulge in the victory with them. anyway, all of this is to say, yes I do think the bury-your-gays of it all definitely plays into it (and I would say, again, linking this to it chapter 2, it’s significant muschietti and co decided to make richie gay over eddie; people who haven’t read the book might not know that eddie like. literally drinks mineral water. in the 80s. he wears gucci loafers. he marries a carbon copy of his mother. stephen king would never admit to writing a gay man but that was a gay man. but eddie dies! eddie always dies. so they had some good sense in giving the gay story to the one who lives and leaving the dead one holding all the coding). and I definitely think randos on twitter making fun of the confession did not help matters. but I also think the decision to pull press cannot be extricated from the rubble of the last two episodes and everything they promised but never delivered. literally a single second of cas in the finale would have been their golden ticket! that’s far more than what jj did for star wars! but they got played at their own game by, of all things, an international pandemic. somehow a very supernatural ending after all.

[slightlymore]

my soulmate loves wine

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

doyoung x fem reader

others: jaemin, jeno 

genre: one-shot, soulmates au, enemies? to lovers, romance, smut, fluffy tones, phone chat (there are pics of the conversation) 

warnings: tarot readings, alcohol, swearing, insults, explicit sex scenes (oral f and m, penetration, protected and unprotected - seriously, have unprotected sex only with people you trust. if you will have unprotected sex with strangers, i will manifest in the room and besides it being absolutely embrarrassing for you, i will also smack your heads together and call you stupid - bondage, rough, spanking, hair pulling, spit swallowing, slight breeding kink, use of 'slut', dom doyoung,  sub doyoung, overstimulation f and m, edging f and m, dry humping, wet humping, mouth fucking, cum swallowing, slight exhibitionism, f solo, m solo, phone sex), doyoung has a big cock too lmao (in all of my own personal readings I always get that my soulmate has a big cock for no reason and I thought it was a funny detail)

words: 17K

tag list:  @seostudios @doyochii @doodlingpizza @eboyhyunjunreblogs​ @mina-is-babie @sorrywonwoo @peterrogers15 @delphiskpoporacle @waffletaeng @wownajaemin @shimyshimykoko @doyoung-onli @chxb03 @strawberrymilkandcigarettes @hyucksie​ @neonun-au​ @cumtrov3rsy​ 

_____

January 1st 2:23 am 

And if he's not my soulmate, I'd rather wander alone than touching someone else's skin, I'd rather walk this earth with no hand to hold and lift me from the ground. And if I have to heal from it and accept the universe's imposed call, I'd rather suffer from my eternally open wounds. I'll fight the stars and let them burn me, I'll let them laugh at my weakest state and I'd gladly make them erase my memory of ever existing in all of the infinite lives if I have to follow Fate. 

Doyoung felt the golden letters on the book cover in front of him and raised his eyes when he heard the crystal curtain move. 

“I wouldn’t open it if I were you.” 

A middle-aged woman was smiling at him, walking towards the table Doyoung and Jaemin were sat at. 

The room became even darker but a certain comfort engulfed Doyoung when she smiled. 

“I’ve never seen a book with a poem on the cover instead of a title.” 

“A dear friend of mine made it.” 

Her expression was calm and peaceful when she eyed the book and put her hand on it, pulling it towards herself. 

“It’s beautiful,” Doyoung looked at the worn bordeaux leather. “What’s inside?” 

“I’m glad you like it. And that’s-,” she leaned in mysteriously, “-a secret.” 

As she spoke, a little candle lit up between them and the boys both flinched. 

“Wow,” Jaemin whispered. 

Doyoung blinked at the woman then chuckled once, laughing mostly at himself for being so jumpy for no reason. That place was made to look creepy but he reminded himself that it was only a facade. 

“I’m here for a reading.” Her gaze was piercing and Doyoung realized that she hadn’t stopped looking at him since she entered the room. 

“There’s a certain resistance on your part.” Doyoung tried not to snort. “Well…” I don’t believe in these sorts of things, he wanted to say, but Jaemin suddenly laughed, slamming his palm on the table and making a decent amount of colourful stones jingle on the glass table. 

Doyoung sighed. “Sorry, my friend is very drunk.” 

“You’re also drunk as fuck,” the other pointed his finger to the first’s face, poking him in the nose as he couldn’t keep his balance. 

The woman smiled kindly as if unbothered to suddenly have two obnoxious young men trying to get a reading at two in the morning.  “This is going to be a love reading. We’ll see what the Spirit wants to tell you about your soulmate.” “Actually, I’m here for a general one? Like, I don’t know-,” Doyoung tried to find his words and looked at Jaemin. “Money and sex?” the younger one suggested before they could have another laughter fit for no apparent reason. The woman kept the corner of her lips lifted as she retrieved a beautiful tarot deck. “Would you blow on this please?” Jaemin tried to open his eyes. “Blow? Of course. Doyoung is good at blowing.” Doyoung hit him with the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up. We’ll get kicked out if you continue,” he whispered amused. Or at least he tried to whisper. The boys kept giggling for a few more moments then got serious as they eyed the spread of cards in front of them. 

The woman nodded and smiled. 

Doyoung blinked at the lady then at the cards. 

"There's mystery and magic attached to this connection. The universe wants this to be a surprise. You’ve been manifesting a lot, haven’t you?” 

The young man felt suddenly very awake. 

“Uhm, no.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not honest with me. The Spirit can see your true feelings. It’s saying that if you needed a confirmation that this is real, then here it is.”

Doyoung stared at her nail, tapping at the card and wondered how many years of training she needed to be able to read people like that since he was sure that that piece of paper could not be able to tell her anything. 

Relaxing on his chair he tried to put on the most neutral expression ever then nodded. 

Okay, it meant. Go on. 

“King of cups. Your soulmate is very in touch with their emotions. They’re going to teach you how to open up more since it’s difficult for you to express what you’re feeling.” Doyoung tightened his lips before he could wrongfully deny it. On his left, Jaemin was already sleeping with his head on the table.

_____

January 1st 2:23 pm 

"Will we know right away that we're each other's soulmate?" 

The Lady smiled and nodded at your widened and curious eyes. 

"You have an intense soul connection. Also, you’ll know right away because sex-,” You gulped. “-is going to be the best you’ve ever had in your whole life. He’s a very fiery person and is quite domineering, I can tell it from the King of swords. He wants to dominate you in bed, maybe pull your hair? You love it. And he definitely loves your body, especially legs and chest. He worships you and he will put you on a pedestal.” 

You felt your face warm up so you put your palms on your cheeks, trying hard to process all of that information. 

The woman continued after a little giggle to herself. “He can come off a little cocky. He thinks he’s very good in bed thanks to his natural attributes but that’s just because he’s a little insecure. Maybe consider reassuring him that he’s making you feel good?” 

Your mouth was dry and you automatically nodded. 

“Wait, what do you mean with- uh-- with natural attributes?”

_____

Sometime in June 

“Did you hear about the guy accused of stealing because it looked like he had something in his pocket while in reality, it was his 10 inches monster?” Jaemin asked before laughing like a supervillain, head thrown back on the couch cushions, splattering spit all over Doyoung who was sitting near him with furrowed eyebrows as he tried to find a good movie to watch. 

“Yeah, it was me,” Doyoung replied with a monotone voice. 

“Oh? Doyoung made a joke? I guess I might say that you’re-- cocky?” 

Doyoung chuckled even if he tried not to. 

“Okay, since you’re in a good mood-,” the other clapped his hands once. “No.” “You don’t even know what I wanted to ask you!” Jaemin whined. “I’m busy.” “You don’t do anything all day.” “I have to take care of my monster cock-” Jaemin slapped Doyoung’s mouth to cover it. “It hurts,” he mumbled. 

“Listen. Next Sunday you’ll accompany me at the opening of a new winery. You don’t have to do anything besides be pretty and drink wine while I try to get between one of the associates’ legs.” “I knew it had to do with pussy.” “She invited me! It’s not like I can refuse. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I met her at that work meeting.” “You mean a few days ago?” “Love has no stages.” “Why do I have to come with you?” “I have two invitations. Drinking expensive wine for free? Hello? I’m doing you a favour," he spoke quickly and dramatically, clicking his fingers. “You need three invitations, for me and my co--ahi!” Doyoung giggled after Jaemin smacked him with a cushion.

_____

You had no idea you’d be having backseat sex that day and honestly, you felt highly unprepared. 

Black ripped jeans and a leather jacket, the most basic outfit one guy could have on, yet you were salivating and for once it was not because of the pizza Jeno was handing you. 

“Uhm, Houston?” he clicked his fingers in front of your face then looked into the direction you were looking. 

“The guy on the right?” he asked without batting an eye. “How did you know?” you turned your head suddenly to face him and he put the slice of pizza inside of your open mouth. Then he rolled his eyes. 

“He’s completely your type.” "I want to fuck him."

Jeno raised one eyebrow and you suddenly realized what you've just said. 

"No. I meant-," "Hey! Guy with the rabbit mask!" Jeno suddenly yelled at the group of boys sitting on the grass in front of you. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?" you pulled his arm down. "My friend here said that she wants to f-," you slammed a hand on his mouth before he could finish. "I'm going to kill you," you whispered as Jeno started to giggle. 

The Rabbit boy looked at you for a little while, tilting his head to the side, but then turned his back to you. He probably didn't hear anything and thought that you were all drunk. 

“What the fuck was that?” you whispered. 

Jeno sighed. “Y/N. You’re too shy. If you want to fuck a guy just go and do it."

You scoffed. “I’m too shy? I am not shy. I can fuck whoever I want.” “Yeah? Then fuck the Rabbit.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest and put your tongue in your cheek. 

“Can’t do it huh?” Jeno teased you. "I can. And I will." "I bet you can't." "I bet I will."

_____

“I’ll be honest with you. I’m here because of a bet.” The Rabbit had a gulp of beer as if girls with a Moon mask approached him with bet talk every day. Then he giggled. 

“Sorry, your mask is ridiculous.” 

You rolled your eyes even if he couldn’t see it. 

Okay, he was a douche. Did you still want to fuck him though? Yes. 

“What’s the bet about?” he inquired. 

You straightened your lips in a tight line, the sound of your pulse almost audible in the silence of the parking lot. 

“MyfriendsaidthatIwouldn’tbeabletofuckyoubecauseI’mshyandIwanttoprovetohimthatI’mnot.” 

You spitted everything out thanks to the gigantic amounts of wine you had that night and found yourself panting a little when you were done. A little voice inside your head was screaming that it was dangerous and highly inappropriate for you to behave like that but you shrugged internally and hit it in the face.

“What?” the dude asked after a beat. 

You sighed. “MyfriendsaidthatIw-” “Okay, okay,” he raised his palms, “hold up. Talk slowly? Your friend what?” “Myfriendsaid-” “Can you just talk slowly, please?” 

“Nevermind,” you turned your back to him and walked away. 

“Mooney, come back here.” 

You stopped. “How did you just call me?”

The guy straightened his back and laughed under his mask. “If you want to fuck me, at least try and seduce me first.” “Aren’t you already under my spell if you’re so eager to keep going on with this conversation?” you found yourself saying. He shrugged. “I’m just bored. And don’t you want to win that bet? I guess you’re actually shy and your friend was right.” You scoffed. “I’m not gullible. You won’t make me do things only because you told me that I can’t.” “You’re here doing a thing only because your friend told you that you can’t. How is that not being gullible?” “It’s not being gullible if I’m here with that as an excuse when in reality I want to fuck you on the backseat, Rabbit.” 

You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was smiling as he opened the car’s door and with a dramatic gesture he invited you in. 

You walked in front of him slowly, asking yourself what the fuck you were actually doing, and he was quick to follow you inside. 

It was dark and warm and you decided to lie to yourself that the trembling sigh that escaped your lips was because you’ve been feeling cold before and not because you felt the Rabbit’s hands on your waist. You let him pull you in his lap and his palms slowly brushed your goosebumpy thighs first, then your torso, hovering over your breasts before they could grab your mask and take it away. You were breathing through your mouth and you desperately needed to see his expression upon seeing your face. With trembling fingers, you pulled the little white rabbit down and his eyes made an appearance first forcing you to inhale sharply. Masks slipping on the side, you both took in the view of each other. He did not speak a word and you didn’t either. 

“Do-,” you started unsurely, “do we know each other? Have we met before?” 

He blinked at you and you could tell he was as confused as you were. “I don’t think so,” he whispered and you finally realized how close he was. 

Like a switch, when you moved he moved as well and you roughly hit your mouths together, his hands cupping your ass and your fingers curling in his hair. It was so fast and almost painful the way you embraced each other that you wondered just how horny some wine could make you become. He grunted as you suddenly bit his neck and just that sound made your blood boil. You knew how and where to touch him and when his fingers got underneath your dress it seemed like he knew your weak spots as well. You let go of his neck and grabbed his head as your nipples disappeared inside his mouth. His lips were cold just like his touch and it made you shiver.

_____

Doyoung noticed you the exact moment you walked onto the lawn. 

Your legs were bare and he wondered why Jaemin dragged him to such a weird party. 

“Just buy whatever,” the younger said behind a black ominous mask while examining himself in the mirror. 

Doyoung hummed pensively and grabbed the white Rabbit. 

“I wanted that one too but since I’m going to see the associate lady tonight again, I thought that something less stupid would be better,” commented Jaemin.  

“So you think this is stupid?” 

“It goes well with your vibe. Buy it,” he wiggled his eyebrows and for once Doyoung just sighed and shrugged. 

“Ah come on, why are you not in a good mood tonight? We’ll have free food and alcohol tonight then free food and wine tomorrow.” 

“I really don’t feel like coming. It makes no sense to throw a party before a party. I can’t believe you tricked me into coming to two parties.” 

It was Jaemin’s turn to shrug. “These people have been travelling through all of Europe and shit. It’s their version of an afterparty. Like a rave. But it’s before the actual party and it’s on grass, with masks on and at 5 pm. You have to come.” "So there's going to be classical music and tea?" 

The cashier ringed their items quickly and Jaemin took out his wallet to pay.   “Why do you even get invited to all of these events?” Doyoung went on and added a pack of mints too. Jaemin smirked. “She likes me a lot, huh? Can’t wait to taste that sweet juicy pussy.” The cashier cleared her throat and was quick to dismiss them with her rightfully dry “have a good day”. “I just think she’s trying to gather customers for her wine. Don’t get your hopes up.” “She’ll want to gift me her wine after I’ll make her boun-”

Doyoung was so ready to accept an evening of him wandering around a party full of strangers talking in god knows what languages while his friend got it wet that when you pressed yourself on his crotch, nibbling at his neck and exhaling so deeply, he felt lightheaded. 

You were with another guy and Doyoung watched you sit down on the cushions behind his group of friends. Your nude legs got even nuder as your white dress shifted up exposing your thighs. A sudden urge to spread them invaded his mind and he had to do something with his hands instead. 

“Hey, guy with the rabbit mask!” 

Doyoung turned his head around right in time to see you smack the dude on the face. 

“Did that guy just tell you that his friend wants to fuck you?” Jaemin inquired with a giggle. Doyoung wondered how Jaemin could hear something like that at such a distance. 

“I guess?” he agreed though. “And I want to fuck her too,” he heard himself add.  

Jaemin’s mask looked as shocked as his expression underneath it. 

“Why are you so bold all of a sudden? No, I mean, yes! Fuck her.” 

Doyoung shook his head to get rid of the imaginary fog. “I was joking. Why are you getting so worked up?” 

But when Jaemin finally disappeared suddenly, presumably to drink some wine with his lady, Doyoung could physically feel your eyes on his back as he walked down the hill towards the parking lot. 

Your steps were light and you’d stop when he’d stop, unsuccessfully hiding behind the tall bushes of roses. 

As he unlocked his car with a high toned beep, he leaned on the side of it and waited for you to approach him. A giggle left his chest when he saw you trying to find him in the middle of all of those cars. 

“I am here,” he announced and you jolted. 

Turning around you eyed him and stopped in place then took a timid step, then another until only a few separated you from him. 

“I’ll be honest with you. I’m here because of a bet.” 

You looked airy just like the moon on your mask and he thought you were adorable swinging your body weight from one foot to another like that. 

“Sorry, your mask is-,” adorable, “-ridiculous. What’s the bet about?” 

“My friend said that I wouldn’t be able to fuck you because I’m shy and I want to prove to him that I’m not.” 

You were so bold that Doyoung felt his air miss from his lungs. 

You slurred your words on purpose and he tried hard to pretend that he didn’t understand just to hear you say that you wanted him to fuck you again. 

“What?” he asked.

You sighed. “MyfriendsaidthatIw-” “Okay, okay,” he raised his palms, “hold up. Talk slowly? Your friend what?” “Myfriendsaid-” “Can you just talk slowly, please?” “Nevermind.” 

Fuck. 

“Mooney, come back here.” 

The air rustled with energy and he completely missed everything besides “I want to fuck you on the backseat” part and he had no idea how you got into the car and how he got you on his legs. 

But now there you were, soft in his arms. 

And when you took away your mask his head got drilled by a thousand questions. Your eyes, mirroring his expression as you slid his mask down, told him that you were thinking the same thing. Like two magnets you collided in a heated kiss and your scent was so familiar that Doyoung sighed when you let his lips go to breathe.

_____

Finally, finally, finally, your mind was chanting as the Rabbit moulded your body with his hands. 

Your mind became mush so quickly that it was honestly embarrassing when you realized that you were riding his hardened cock. His lips on your neck seemed amused and after a moment he took away his fingers from your body, leaning back and watching you from under heavy lids. 

You bit your lower lip and stopped with a certain difficulty, the burning sensation between your legs already boiling inside your veins. 

"Go on." 

His voice was sultry and raspy and your body reacted to it as if under a spell. 

Your fingers on his shoulders deepened their hold and you closed your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. 

"Come on. Go on. Doesn't it feel good?" 

He cooed, dragging one single finger across your bust, between your breasts and down on your stomach. His eyes wouldn't let a single expression of yours escape them. 

"It would feel better if you fucked me."

The light in his irises twinkled. 

"But I like to see you like this," he said before leaning in and letting his breath caressing your ear. "Desperate." 

His voice was like a hiss and your skin shivered with goosebumps. You felt his open mouth on your nude shoulder, slowly going towards your clavicle and you extended your neck up to welcome him. 

"Go on," he ordered again and your hips snapped, rolling on him, feeling the way your panties got pulled up as he slid his hands under your dress and twirled the sides around his fingers. It was frustrating as intoxicating and soon enough the windows of his car became misty from your heavy breaths. 

"I hate this," you whined and he chuckled. "I can see that."

Almost completely lost in your foggy mind you jolted at a sudden snap and you stopped your motions just to see him slide your panties from between your legs and throw them to the front. 

With a single pull, he pushed your now raw pussy on his clothed cock while his hands spread your ass, guiding your movements. 

"Fuck," you gasped, feeling the rough material on your sensitive skin and it didn't take you a lot to go over the edge with fingers curled inside his hair and mouths open against each other. He drank your shaking moans, then without giving you a second to remember where you were, his arms wrapped your torso and pushed you under his weight. Your feet stopped on the window as you yelped and you desperately wanted to call his name when you felt his tongue lap at your wetness. His fingers were tightly wrapped around your thighs and when you moaned a few times in a row, your back arching and your body squirming in his hold, he palmed your stomach and pressed you down again.

_____

You looked like every sex dream Doyoung has ever had. 

Arms thrown around your head, chest rising and falling, your sweet whimpers and soft skin, it drove him crazy. Your thighs pressing on the side of his head felt like everything he has ever wanted but wasn’t aware of. 

Mine mine mine all mine. A weird possession sentiment swept him away and when he looked up at your fucked up expression he felt like shivering. With a plop he let your clit go and kept pumping his fingers inside of you, curling them right where you wanted him to, kissing your navel, licking your under breasts, sucking the skin in until it probably hurt, then sucking on your nipples, and finally on your lower lip. He wanted to see your face when you’d cum all over his fingers and when you gasped, wrapping his torso with your arms and trying to hide your face into the crook of his neck, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. Your eyelids fluttered as he heard you swear multiple times and as he felt you clench so deliciously that he couldn’t wait to feel it around his aching cock instead. He wanted to rest a bit, maybe put his head on your soft chest and listen to your heartbeats but you were a stranger and you were hooking up in his car. So he sat on his knees between your legs instead, panting as if he were the one who just came, and he let his eyes trail on your naked body, licking his lower lip when he reached your wet core. He would have wanted to smear all of that on himself but he reached his jacket instead and took a condom out.  

“Why do boys always carry a condom with them? You never know when you’d end up fucking?” 

“Actually, when we carry a condom we never fuck and when we don’t have it we have the opportunity to fuck.” 

“Well, today you’re lucky,” you smirked and he loved the way you tried to hide away your embarrassment with banter. 

“Do you still want to do this?” he palmed your knee.

“Yes,” you nodded. “You didn’t cum.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that. Do you want it?” 

Doyoung wondered what kind of expression he had on to make you light up so much. 

You bit your lower lip and sat up suddenly, getting on your knees as well and turning around with a certain difficulty. 

“Yes,” you said again and bent over. 

Doyoung choked at the view and wondered what country he had saved in his previous life to deserve all of that.  

_____

You dreamt about opening a winery probably since you tasted wine for the first time. 

You loved it. 

Sour, sweet, bitter, flowery, fruity, still and frizzy, you loved it all. 

People thought you were crazy and no one supported you until you met your best friend in university. 

“Are you kidding? I’d love to open a winery with you.” 

The classroom was well lit and she looked like an angel against the sunny windows. 

You looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?” 

She hit your arm playfully. “Of course! I love wine and that sounds like a very cool idea.” 

“Look, I’m actually very serious about this so if you’re saying this just to-,”

She took your hands and looked into your eyes. “Me too. We’ll do it. I promise.” 

Now, years later you were looking around at the freshly painted venue and couldn’t believe your eyes. 

You did it. 

Tall ceilings and shelves full of your blood and sweat, you walked around slowly, one finger to gently tap on the various displayed bottles. 

“Hey, hey, no touching. We’ve cleaned them up and they have to shine.” 

Your friend appeared on your side and you smiled. Her dress was sleeveless and you made a face touching her arms. 

“Have you been working out girl? What are these?” 

She snapped her head down to look at herself. “I guess… uhm, it’s all of the exercises… uhm that I do.” 

You took her sudden panic for embarrassment and cackled. “With the party guy?”

“Who?” 

“Jaemin you said?” “Oh yeah! Yeah, we’re quite active, aha.” 

“Well, to get those arms you might have done a lot of hardcore BDSM.” You laughed but your friend looked rather mortified. 

“Aw, come on,” you gently elbowed her. “I also fucked the guy from yesterday,” you added to make her feel better. And she lit up so much at the news that she almost knocked over the bottles in front of you. 

“And you tell me now? How did it go?” “Well, I guess. I don’t really want to think about it though. I don’t think I’m into hookups.”

_____

Doyoung didn't like hookups but when he stepped inside the winery's main hall and saw your legs again and the way your ass was wrapped in that short dress he desperately wanted to bury his cock in it. 

"Not bad, huh?" Jaemin smiled at the waiter welcoming them with glasses of wine, before looking up at the nicely decorated venue. 

"Yeah, not bad at all," Doyoung murmured as you turned around and he considered fucking your breasts too. 

Then he cleared his throat as he took a glass of wine as well, feeling his neck warming up. He looked around as he sipped, suddenly conscious of people as if they could read his horny mind. At that moment, with his body acting up as if possessed, he wondered if the wine didn’t have some sort of aphrodisiac in it. 

“Do you also feel a little funny?” Doyoung placed down the wine and reached for his tie to loosen it up. 

Jaemin glanced over him and promptly looked down. “Uh-oh. Do we have an emergency?” he started to laugh and Doyoung closed his eyes briefly before opening them and turning around towards the buffet. 

“Heh, did that girl do something to you? You were so upset when she left without saying anything.” 

“It was just a hookup,” Doyoung murmured trying to understand what kind of food he was staring at. 

“An amazing hookup if you get like this upon seeing her.” 

“Not for her I guess.” 

“So you are upset. Cupid worked hard last night,” he elbowed his friend. 

“Give me a break. You’re also crushing on your lady.” 

“Also? Kim Doyoung, are you crushing on the winery girl?”

He shook his head quickly putting a pastry in his mouth to have an excuse to not speak. Jaemin lightly hit him and Doyoung hit him back like kids in third grade when suddenly the lights became dimmer and you spoke into a mic.

_____

“Hey, have you seen Jeno?” you asked your friend after finishing your introductory discourse and let people finally get wasted as they wanted to. “Who?” “Jeno? The guy I’m always hanging out with? He should have been here by now but I don’t see him anywhere.” 

Your friend made a perplexed face and you sighed. “You’re right. You’ve never met him before. You’re both my best friends so I always forget that you’ve never seen each other.” 

“Well, I kinda know how he looks like, so if I see him then-,”

"So you stole my money,” a sudden voice at your back interrupted you and you turned around to lock eyes with none other than the Rabbit. 

He was so good looking that you felt the urge to kiss him, yet his mocking face made you so irrationally mad that you felt like slapping him too. 

You put your hands on your hips and raised your chin. "Proof?"

You were still panting last evening trying hard to stop shaking from your third orgasm in a row. The Rabbit did a lot of things to you and you wondered why you didn’t hook up with strangers more often if that was the outcome. His wallet was on the seat in front of you and for a split second, you smiled wondering if he carried a family photo in it. His back looked very broad as he stood outside the car and presumably tried to make himself pee with a half-hard penis but probably failing. A sudden voice startled you and Doyoung replied to it. You quickly pulled down your dress and eyed the ripped panties on the steering wheel. Shit. You tried to grab them but the dude talking to Doyoung took a few steps closer so you retreated. "Fucked her good just like you planned?" Your face scrunched in a pout and you suddenly found yourself very upset. Doyoung didn't reply anything but you weren't sure that he didn't make a face. It was a good night. You had fun and a good-looking dude made you cum. You fucked him good just like you planned too. Then why did you feel a little used? Maybe you weren’t acquainted with the hookup culture, or maybe deep down you hoped that the sudden attraction you felt for the Rabbit was magical, but suddenly you felt very weird and a wave of disgust invaded you. 

He was definitely not your soulmate and you should just get out of there. 

You opened the door slowly on your side, quietly looking over your shoulder to make sure that they wouldn’t hear you. Feet on the ground you eyed the wallet again and you opened it. Not to check his family photo as you previously wanted to, but to get all of his cash. You swallowed a chuckle and ran away up the hill back to the restaurant’s garden.

He scoffed. "You’re a terrible thief. I make you cum and you steal from me?" 

"You look like a rich guy. You deserved it. Also, you ripped my panties."

"And you liked it."

You clenched your jaw. "It wasn't even good sex."

His jaw's muscles flinched too. "You probably couldn't walk properly."

"Yeah, because of the cramped car not because of your cock." 

"I think you have a loss of memory all of a sudden. Do I have to remind you how my cock feels like?" 

"Sure. Then I will be able to say to your face that it doesn’t feel good.”

_____

"Fuck, it feels so fucking good."

Dragging you by the wrist, Doyoung shoved you in the first room he found and pressed you against the cold wall. 

"I can't believe I'm about to have sex in the rosés showroom," you spoke with a breathy voice and when Doyoung pressed his open lips on yours you realized that you didn’t even know his name. 

One thing is hooking up with a dude in his car while drunk, another thing is choosing to fuck him consciously on the opening of your new business and completely sober. 

Although, when he started to kiss your jaw and neck, his tongue slowly creeping out and tickling your nerves, your mind felt so hazy that you wondered if you somehow had something to drink already and couldn’t remember. 

Didn’t you hate the guy just a few moments ago?

“Do you really have to wear these dresses and drive me insane?” he whispered on your lips as his hands pulled up the dress in question. 

You wanted to reply with something smartass but honestly, you chose that dress with him in mind. 

Somehow, while browsing your closet for the big day, your mind could not stop thinking about the Rabbit boy. Your mixed feelings towards him confused you and you'd go on weird tangents of complete hatred and high adoration thinking about his face between your legs. 

Certain that he’d come to the opening too, you carefully wore each piece of clothing you had, looking at yourself in the mirror and imagining he was the one looking at you through your eyes. Would he like the split on your thigh? Or would he like the way the dress accentuated your breasts more? Without realizing your hands were on your bust going up slowly, gently kneading your soft skin, cupping your boobs and flicking your nipples. Then one moved on your stomach, then on your thigh and just like that you started to moan. 

And you were moaning at that moment too as the Rabbit lightly caressed your clit with the tip of his cock. You pushed your hips towards him to get more and he pushed you back into the wall, one hand reaching for your mouth and slipping the thumb on your tongue. You twirled it around his digit and sucked, lightly choking when he reached farther and choking again when you finally felt his cock fill you up too. 

“You have to be quiet, Y/N.” 

Your name on his lips made you tremble. 

He probably heard it during the welcoming discourse or read it on the pamphlets and the fact that he knew it and you didn’t know his one, made you feel vulnerable in a pleasant way. 

Or maybe it was the way his hand gripped the softness of your thigh, keeping it up on his hip, or maybe his own hips pushing inside of you that made you feel like turning into mush. 

“Will you be quiet for me or am I fucking you too good?” he took away his finger and you gasped for air, your whines getting louder. 

“As I thought,” he mocked you. “It wasn’t even good sex, she said.” 

You bit your lower lip and hid your face into the crook of his neck but he pulled you away, cupping your cheek. “You have to look at me. I want to see this pretty face when you cum.”

Your eyes fluttered as his cock basically decided to rearrange your guts and you dug your fingers into his shoulders with a teeth-gritted moan. 

“Are you close, baby?” You nodded breathlessly, the sudden pet-name just making it impossible for you to not beg to make you cum.

“You want me to make you cum?” 

You nodded again. “Gonna cum- so hard-,” 

The Rabbit thrust a few times more into you and suddenly pulled out. 

You gasped as if mortally offended but unable to move a muscle. 

"I don't think so."

His smirk made you swallow your own spit and he held your waist when he took a step back after letting your leg down. 

“Hey! Come on!” 

Dragging you away just like before he made you walk towards the party hall. His iron grip made it impossible for you to just go away and finish yourself and honestly, it would have been quite pathetic. 

You moved as if drunk, fingers visibly shaking and mind clouded in the middle of the crowd.

"Fuck, I'll make you pay for this." 

He smiled at you and intertwined his fingers with yours before lifting both of your hands and placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

"Yes darling, I've already paid last time," he replied as a few curious people looked your way and saw just a random couple chatting peacefully. 

You took a deep breath and tried to smile unbothered, imitating Doyoung's relaxed expression. 

"It was just a joke. Do you want those couple of bucks back?” 

He tilted his head to the side. “No. Let’s say I had paid you for your services.” 

You disregarded him and opened your clutch, retrieving a few dollars. With a quick hand, you shoved them halfway inside Doyoung's pants making sure others didn't stare. 

"Thank you for today’s fuck too then, slut."

_____

To say that it was easy for Doyoung to stop feeling you around his cock and pretend he wasn’t about to lose his mind when he couldn’t cum either, would be the biggest lie of the universe. But your frustrated expression, trembling limbs and glossy eyes made it all worth it. 

“Where have you been?” 

Jaemin handed him a glass of white wine and Doyoung took it absentmindedly. When he brought it to his mouth and had a sip he almost spit it back inside.

“What the fuck is this?” 

Jaemin chuckled. “The winery’s speciality.” 

“This is disgusting.” 

“I had a whole bottle of that yesterday so now I’m used to it.” 

“Why is it so sour?” 

Jaemin hit his shoulder lightly to bring his attention to something and when Doyoung raised his gaze he saw your furious aura staring at them from a few steps away. 

“Maybe the lady behind the recipe is sour as well,” he joked. “I lied when I asked you where you’ve been. Saw you together just now. Did you not fuck her good enough?” 

Doyoung smiled and took another sip of the wine, barely being able to not make a face for a second time. “I fucked her so good that now she’s mad.” 

“From her expression, she doesn’t look very pleased with the experience. And in fact,” Jaemin added quickly, grabbing Doyoung’s arm since he got distracted by the red wine, “she’s probably seeking a better one.” 

You were chuckling at some dude’s pick-up line and accepted to disappear with him out of Doyoung’s sight. 

The sweet dessert wine he tasted felt as sour as the first one.

_____

“Is the person I’m thinking about my soulmate?” “You already know the answer to that.” 

You bit your lower lip unsure. 

“What do you want me to say?” the lady smiled. “Yes or no.” “Why don’t you have faith?” 

You leaned back in your chair and let your gaze fall on the decorations on the tarot reader’s desk. The little obsidian stones reminded you of the dude’s eyes and it made you irrationally angry. 

You wanted to make him jealous. 

You wanted him to come up to you and grab your hand or something and make the boring-ass guy that approached you to leave. 

But he didn’t. 

If he really were your soulmate, wouldn’t you both feel it? Were you just going crazy? Were you lonely enough that you weighed your every desire on him?

“I saw him just twice and I don’t even know his name,” you sighed, talking almost to yourself. 

You probably unconsciously pouted because the Lady smiled kindly at you. She was no therapist but she gladly accepted to talk to you again after your first encounter. 

“Does he match the description the cards gave you?” 

“Well, he does have a very big cock, yeah,” you started. “Uhm, yes, it was that type of meeting,” you explained quickly before she could judge but the woman didn’t look unfazed. In fact, she was quite pleased to hear that. 

“You think that meeting your soulmate is just seeing them and everything falls into place. But it’s harder than that. You still have to want it and you still have to work for the union. So many people missed the opportunity to get with their soulmate because they didn’t work hard enough.” 

“Well, shouldn’t this be meant to be or something? Even if I make mistakes?” 

The Lady tilted the head to the side and for a split second you felt as if talking to a lost best friend. “We have a lot of choice in life. Everything is out there ready for you and you will get help but only if you have faith it will happen.”

_____

“You again?” he asked, fakely annoyed. 

You’ve always brushed off your mom’s words. 

“At least take your sweatpants out of your knee-high socks.” “It’s just the convenience store at the corner, mom. It’s not like I will meet my soulmate tonight at 10 pm.” 

But you actually met him and it was terrible. 

The packs of instant ramen in your hands trembled a little as the Rabbit dude passed one hand through his hair waiting for a normal human reaction from you.  

“What are you doing here?” 

“Buying groceries for dinner,” he explained then eyed your snacks. “You too, I see.” 

You tried to not let his subtle mockery get to you. “Yeah but why in this store in particular?” 

“You’re wondering if this is fate?” he giggled. 

But actually, Doyoung was the first to wonder if it was fate. 

He has never really thought of the Lady’s words in detail, nor he believed in any of it, but when he first saw you descending the hill with your moon costume as if you were the actual moon, his mind independently carved the thought of how nice it would be for you to be his soulmate.  

“I live in this neighbourhood and I assume you do too since you’re dressed like this,” he let his eyes fall and he looked at your stained pyjama pants. 

A wave of heat passed through your whole body and for the first time, it wasn’t pleasure. 

Your real soulmate would have never said that. 

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. 

“Well, see you around then.” Turning on your heels, you didn’t wait for him to greet you back. 

“Did that guy make you cum?” 

You stopped so suddenly that the first two packs of ramen fell to your feet. You grunted and tried to bend but it was impossible to grab them without making the others fall too. With the corner of your eye, you saw the rabbit boy’s hands retrieving your stuff and when he got up again you felt his skin on the back of your hands as he pulled the remaining packs from you and let them fall in his cart. “Thank you.” 

“Answer my question.” 

You gulped but put on a brave face. 

“This is not a conversation to have in the condiments aisle.” “Then come to my apartment.” 

The intensity in his voice made your heart beat faster and then you blinked at his back as he turned around the cart and made his way towards the register. 

“Wait, my ramen!” 

He didn’t acknowledge you and greeted the cashier good evening. You awkwardly stood beside him as they beeped all of his fancy groceries. 

“Uhm-,” you extended your hands to get your ramen but they beeped that too without batting an eye and the rabbit bagged everything in a few seconds. 

“I- I could have- why-?” you followed him. “Now I have to pay you back.” “You gave me enough money last time.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest as Doyoung placed the bags inside his car's trunk.

“That was for-,” you started but stopped realizing that you were about to talk about sex on a busy street in front of your corner grocery store. 

He smiled. “Yeah?” 

“Give me my ramen now.” 

“Get inside,” he indicated with his head and without missing a beat he got behind the wheel. 

“Why do you even drive if you live in the neighbourhood?” You entered and sighed, trying to put on the seat belt. “The groceries are heavy.” “Do you even lift?” “I love lifting women but not groceries.” “You lift other women and I can’t get a guy to make me cum without you asking me questions about it?” 

Doyoung looked at you with a little smile as you stopped at the red sign. “Does the thought of me with other women make you upset or am I imagining things?” “Does the thought of guys making me cum make you upset?” you retorted. “Yes.” 

You choked on air and the movement of the car starting again made your body press back on the seat. You didn’t expect that. 

“Then why did you make me leave with him?” 

Your voice got tiny and you hoped he didn’t actually hear you because at the same moment you realized that it was a little embarrassing. But his sudden glance told you that he did. His gaze returned towards the street and his adam apple travelling up and down his throat told you that he didn’t know what to say. 

“Why did you leave with him?” he eventually asked. 

It was your turn to not speak. 

Not in a million years you’d admit to a stranger you wanted to make him jealous. A stranger that put his dick in you twice, but a stranger nevertheless. 

“We just talked a bit. I was bored.” “So I guess he didn’t make you cum.” “I don’t do hookups,” you said before realizing what you’ve just said. “I mean-,” you looked at him and he blinked back. Fuck. You told the hookups guy that you didn’t do hookups. 

“I mean, without being attracted to the person a lot. And that dude was not attractive,” you tried to explain fighting the urge to hide your face away. 

“Thank you. I’m also crazily attracted to you.” 

The car’s air became a little heavier and you thought that if you touched it with a single finger it would buzz as if made of electricity. 

The walk to the apartment complex was almost urgent. His hands didn't leave your body once when you reached the elevator as if he suddenly forgot what personal space was and when you got to his door he firstly slammed you against it, hands quick to get under your shirt. 

"Hey," you eyed the elevator's lights behind his back as he started to kiss your neck. "Someone's coming." "Let them come." The skin he sucked in made your eyes flutter and you whined feeling his fingers so close to where you needed them but so far away. "No, seriously. I think they're going to stop here." Doyoung hummed unbothered but you felt his hand press the code behind your back. Right when the elevator doors opened and you made eye contact with a cute little old lady, the door behind you opened too and you yelped falling backwards. Doyoung was quicker though and he held your waist, pulling you back into the kiss and closing the door with his heel. 

Shoes off and no time wasted, you were suddenly bent over some sort of furniture and your pants got pulled down. 

A single silent gasp left your mouth when you felt Doyoung's lips on the back of your thighs and when his fingertips grated at your sides pulling your panties down to your knees you started to pant. His hot breath tickled your pussy and you shifted in his hold. Doyoung's hands grabbed your ass to keep you in place and slapped one of your cheeks when he licked up a stripe between them. 

You whined once and put your head down and closed your eyes, fingers mindlessly grabbing whatever Doyoung kept on the cabinet. When he pushed his fingers inside, your back arched and his cologne fell to the side with the cap open. The sudden scent of it made you even wetter and Doyoung hummed appreciatively with his mouth full. 

"It feels so good," you whined again, imperceptibly grinding on him, brain not understanding when you got so horny all of a sudden. 

"Please please please make me cum this time," you begged, looking behind you and seeing his hands spreading you all out for him before his fingers could find spots inside of you that you weren't aware of having. 

"I kinda wish you'd beg some more," you heard the note of amusement in his voice.

His hands didn't stop though and before you could form any words your whole body contracted and lifted itself on the tiptoes, knees buckling and head light. Doyoung's airy breath met your spine and he held you in his arms to prevent you from slipping on the ground, kissing your back up slowly until meeting the shoulders. 

"Good girl," he brushed your ear with his lips and you remained with your eyes closed, breathing heavily and when he made you turn around, you felt your body weak as if it was made of jello. He pulled you towards himself and you heard his chuckle buzz inside of his chest. In a second he threw you on his shoulder and you let out a little cry, your limbs dangling around him. 

"I didn't know you were this strong."

He walked a few steps and turned left inside a dark corridor. You tried to look around but you barely noticed anything before he gently placed you down to sit on the bed. 

"You don't know a lot of things about me."

When you raised your head to meet his face you smiled tiredly. 

"I don't even know your name."

He tilted his head to the side amused. "Doyoung."

"Doyoung," you repeated, feeling the sounds on your tongue. 

It felt very right. 

Then his eyes fell on your naked legs and you sucked the air in, suddenly rolling in his bed, one piece of blanket to cover you up. 

Doyoung, still standing by the bed, put his hands on the hips and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm here with my pussy all out. That's so embarrassing,” you explained. 

"Yeah. I've just seen it up close just one minute ago." 

"I'm having post nut clarity," you added, voice muffled and only the top of your head poking out the impromptu burrito. 

"Well, I'm not having any post nut clarity since I didn't nut, so to me, it's not embarrassing."

"Oh my God you're right!" you eyed his crotch and sat up. 

"It's alright. I didn’t plan to do anything else anyway. Just wanted to cook you dinner actually since I’ve already eaten," he sat near you chuckling and took off his shoes. "My mom would hit me in the head if she knew I walked up to the bedroom with these-," but then he gasped softly as you placed a kiss to his nape. Your arms wrapped his torso in a back hug just as your legs did with his waist, draping them in his thighs. His hands automatically started to palm your knees as you made your way towards the base of his neck. 

“I don’t have any condoms,” he whispered as to stop you. 

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt very quickly and you lifted it, loving the way it ruffled his hair after you threw it somewhere on the floor. Having his bare back in front of you made you lose track for a moment and when you touched his chest you realized it was the first time that you actually saw him naked. 

“We don’t need them for what I want to do to you,” you murmured. 

He breathed in shakily. “Well, we’re responsible adults so you have to know that I also don’t do hookups so I’m completely clean but if you don’t want to--ah shit-,” he almost whined when you let your hand down his abs to palm his crotch slowly. 

He turned so cute all of sudden that your tummy did backflips as you kissed his jawline. 

“Are you saying that you want to fuck me raw?” you whispered amused. 

His cock twitched under his pants and he bit his lower lip.

“Does the thought turn you on, Doyoung? Feeling me around you, soft and wet until you can’t take it anymore? Huh?” You cooed, pouting your lips as you pronounced his name, savouring it on your tongue. 

His breathing increased and you wondered how he still kept it all together. 

“Cumming inside of me? Having your warm cum spill out-,”

He turned around suddenly and you let him push you down on the bed but only for a moment. The kisses you started to litter on his neck made his hold weaker and he threw his head into the pillow as you got on top of him. You kissed his chest slowly, then went down until you could finally pass your tongue on that single vein under his navel’s skin. 

"I'm so on edge that I might cum only with a single touch," he breathed out and you smiled on his stomach at his honest side, whining a little when he slid his fingers into your hair as if to urge you to go on quicker. 

"You should have told me," you sat on his thighs and slowly fumbled with his belt. 

He bit his lower lip and watched the little show you put on for him.  

"Well, now you know and you still want to torture me like this."

You lifted one corner of your mouth as you finally unbuttoned his pants. 

"I think you deserve it, don't you think?" 

He shook his head. "Not one bit. I've been good to you."

"Oh really? Then why don't you show me again what a good boy you can be and beg me to finally touch you?" 

"You really think you can use my ways with me?" 

You opened your mouth to reply but every word died in your throat as he reached down and pulled out his cock, pumping it up himself, a single shaking sigh of relief coming out of his mouth. "Shit-," he closed his eyes and pushed his head back, exposing his neck as his adam apple went up and down. You couldn't take your eyes off him and the sounds he started to make hit you right between the legs. His tip poked out of his fist as he fucked himself and for the first time in your life you were dying to suck a cock. 

"Doyoung-," you breathed out but his hisses made you gulp, feeling your mouth dry at the sudden spurts of cum on his lower stomach. 

"Shit," his chest rose and fell heavily and his eyes looked black underneath his heavy lids. Without being able to take it anymore you bent down and licked his tip sending shots of electricity through all of his body. 

"Ah- Y/N-," 

You sucked his cock clean and, letting it out with a lewd pop, you smirked.  

"Now you're going to take it."

And he took it well, cupping your head as it bobbed up and down, not without the most sinful sounds you've ever heard a man emit. As he placed his other hand on your cheek, you slid your own fingers down your stomach and reached your aching clit.

"Ride me?" he caressed your face with his thumbs and you looked up, basking in his fucked up expression. 

With a wet sound, you let his cock out, licking his tip once to break the string of saliva attached to it and moved upwards on his body. 

His hands were quick to grab your sides and when you started to grind on him he inhaled shakily, eyes piercing the way his shaft slid through your lips. Then he grabbed your shirt and roughly pulled it up, making you discard it in a second. 

One hand to guide your ass and one hand to grope at your breasts and you were almost cumming again. And when he reached behind you and you felt his cock poke at your entrance you lost strength in your arms and leaned down on his chest, your breasts squeezed and your skin rubbing on each other when he started to thrust into you. 

His hips' movements were deep and sharp and when you raised your bust enough for your nipples to rub on his chest he squeezed your ass and spanked it once making you moan loudly and fall back on him. So near to your orgasm, you dug your fingers into his arms not worrying about the little marks your nails left on his skin. 

And then he stopped with a grunt. 

You whined and opened your eyes to see him smirk.

"Fuck you, not again," you whispered breathlessly. "Yeah, fuck me."

And you bit your lower lip, lifting yourself up by putting your palms on his chest and started to bounce on his cock. Doyoung started to breathe with his mouth and he let his hands rest on his sides enjoying the way you were so desperately trying to chase your high. 

Your thighs were burning and your mind was clouded but you didn't stop and when you started to call his name, Doyoung finally grabbed your waist again, taking the lead and finally sending you over the edge. 

You finally cried out and pushed your face into the crook of his neck biting down on his skin as he kept going, not giving you a moment to breathe. 

And when you heard him choke against your ear too, a string of profanities lingering in his lips you felt his hot cum fill you up, but getting slowly fucked back in with his last thrusts. 

You remained like that both breathless for some time, his hands gently cupping your face to look at you. His eyebrows furrowed and he quickly dried your wet eyes. 

"Are you okay? Was that too much?" 

The concern in his voice made your heart swell and you shook your head. 

"I'm feeling very good," you smiled and his expression relaxed a bit. 

As he pulled out you felt his semen slide on your thigh and pool where your stomaches we're meeting. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Doyoung. I was just getting frustrated as always when I’m around you.” 

His hands went up and down your back as if soothing your skin. “I love how my name sounds on your lips. It feels like I’ve somehow waited my whole life to hear it.” 

You blinked a few times, the sudden sweet words so weird in his mouth that you raised your head to look at him. 

He looked back as shocked as you. 

"Wow, I feel so sticky," he changed the subject as you opened your lips to talk. You eyed the little buds of sweat on his forehead and imagined you looked as spent as him. 

"Are you also having post nut clarity?" "Yes. Everything is clear." "What's clear?" "This was one of the best nuts of my life and I want to do it again."

_____

Unable to stand on your own legs without shaking you remained sprawled on Doyoung's bed for a while, eyes heavy with sleep. 

"The groceries are still in the car," he said while zipping his pants. 

He offered to take a shower together but your growling tummy interrupted him so now you were alone in the bathtub, lazily lathering up your skin and waiting for him to come back from the parking lot. 

Relaxed from the good fuck and the hot water, you looked around curious, checking out his toiletries as if they could tell you more about this mysterious Doyoung guy. 

Perhaps it was too soon but as you collected the soapy water to blow on it you felt like falling in love a little. 

A little smile crept on your lips when you heard the entrance door open and close with a thud and you looked in the mirror to check on yourself before Doyoung could barge in. As if he didn't fuck you while you were looking crazy just moments before that. 

"That was very quick-," you started but squealed and put your hands on your chest as a man entered the bathroom not looking like your Doyoung at all. 

"Oh my God!" the guy jumped back a little before starting to laugh. 

"Who are you?" 

"You scared the shit out of me. Why are you here in the dim light?" the young man kept going without answering. 

You blinked at him. "It's relaxing."

"I'm Jaemin. Doyoung's flatmate," he finally explained and you wondered why he looked at you as if knowing you. "And you must be the winery girl."

You tilted your head to the side. "Winery girl? Do you know me?" 

"I kinda go out with your friend? The other winery girl?" 

You widened your eyes. "You're the BDSM guy?" 

For the first time since he entered the bathroom, Jaemin looked flustered. 

"Exactly what did she tell you about us?" he scratched the back of his head. 

You giggled. "My friend has been very happy lately. I know enough to make sure you're treating her well."

Jaemin's eyes lit up and you thought he was so cute to have a crush on your friend. Your mind suddenly thought of Doyoung and wondered if he might have a crush on you too. 

"Think of the devil," you murmured as Doyoung appeared behind Jaemin with the groceries bags. 

"You were thinking of me?" he smiled then suddenly realized the whole situation. "Why the hell are you looking at my naked girl?" he tried to tackle the other. Jaemin chuckled and took a few steps back in the corridor. 

"Had no idea she was here, I swear!"

_____

My girl. 

You were sitting timidly at the dinner table, wearing Doyoung's clothes and looking at Jaemin's back as he prepared the food. The water running in the bathroom and Doyoung's faint singing voice made you chuckle. 

He said, my girl. 

You put your hands to your cheeks. 

"You really like him."

You jolted and raised your head to see Jaemin comforting eyes. 

Batting your lashes you wondered what kind of expression you had on and with a little note of panic, you wondered if it was that easy for Doyoung to see it too. 

"This is a secret between us," Jaemin started lowering his voice, "but I think he likes you too. You really look like his soulmate now that I think about it."

You were about to melt but his last words made you snap out of the dream. 

"His soulmate?" you questioned, suddenly very interested. 

Jaemin shook his head as if to not give him any importance but upon seeing your curious eyes he placed the lid on the pot and sat down in front of you. 

"So it was new years," he started and you gulped. He then stopped to giggle, remembering the scene as if it played in front of himself. "We were drunk as fuck. We went to like three different parties and I was wasted. I don't know if you're familiar with the place but there's a tarot reader downtown. We were bored so we decided to go there."

Your head felt suddenly very light. "And what happened?" you asked with a faint voice. 

"Oh, we made a fool out of ourselves for sure, but the woman was nice and did a reading for Doyoung. I don't remember much but I kinda remember the physical descriptions. And you scarily look like that a lot." 

You swallowed again and you felt your mouth dry. 

"And does Doyoung remember?" 

"Remember what?" 

You gasped when Doyoung appeared on your side, a towel around his neck as he used one end to dry the back of his head. 

"I was telling Y/N about the soulmate thing, you know? When the lady told you that they'd be coming around summer?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled a little but then he turned around and headed towards the fridge. 

"Ah yeah. I don't believe any of that though," he said and poured himself a glass of water. 

You looked at his profile as he drank and then noticed Jaemin's pitiful expression. 

"I got a reading on new year's too in the exact same place," you confessed and the silence afterwards felt heavy. 

"And your soulmate was someone that looks like me?" Doyoung joked and Jaemin giggled awkwardly. 

Your heart stung very painfully but you let out a dry chuckle too. 

“I don’t believe in it either. But it was very fun,” you lied. 

“I should have done a reading too,” Jaemin commented. 

"I'm starving," Doyoung lifted the lid and his friend got closer to stir again. 

Their voices talking about ingredients felt muffled as you tried hard to swallow your stupid tears.

_____

You had no idea why you believed the soulmates story. 

Maybe you were lonely or just plain bored but the idea of having a designated person you could be with during your lifetime felt very comforting. Especially since the Lady told you to have faith. 

Doyoung seemed to fit every category and you were so insanely attracted to him that it did not make sense for him to not be your soulmate. But do soulmates appear then disappear from your life, leaving behind nothing besides your memories of them?

Maybe you should have given him your number after you left his apartment that night, but reflecting about it with a cold mind, you did well to not seek him out given his reaction to the whole soulmates discourse. 

He was definitely not your soulmate. It shouldn’t have been this hard. 

Looking at your desk you sighed at the amount of work you had to do for the day and you imagined Doyoung walking through your door just like soulmates in movies would do. Then you shook your head trying to get those intrusive thoughts out of your head. 

Enough. 

But it was so difficult, especially as your eyes kept falling on his cologne, partially hidden behind your pens. 

You grabbed it suddenly intending to throw it out. 

"Oh sorry, I made this fall," you eyed the bottle of perfume on the cabinet by the entrance as you put on your shoes. With quick hands you grabbed it but before placing the cap on, you brought it to your face and smelled it again. "It's very nice." Doyoung, seeing you out, was leaning on the wall. "Do you like it?" You nodded. "You can keep it." You hesitated, wondering if he was joking or not. "Think of me," his eyebrows wiggled amused and if you wouldn't have been so exhausted you would have begged him to take you against the same cabinet again. 

Now, eyes closed, you were thinking of him indeed as you smelled that cologne, a shy hand slowly creeping up your thigh. 

No. You weren't about to masturbate at work but the temptation was so big that you jolted as if awoken from a dream when your phone rang. 

You breathed in and out as if to calm down and picked it up. 

"Y/N speaking."

"Hi, soulmate."

His voice made you physically shiver and your heart started to beat so fast inside your ears that you were afraid Doyoung could hear it too. 

"How did you get my number?" 

"I don't have your number. This is the winery's one and I googled it."

You bit your lower lip feeling stupid. 

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm a little tired."

"Have you been working a lot lately?" 

"Yes," you replied and it was true, but it wasn't work that clouded and exhausted your mind. 

"You need a pause then. Do you want me to help you relax?" 

His low and amused tone made your legs shift and you changed their position. 

"What do you have in mind?" 

"Are you alone?" 

"Yes," you almost whispered. 

"Then close your eyes for me."

You did timidly and the increase of your breath probably was a confirmation for him that you listened because he went on soon after. 

"Now touch your neck slowly with your fingertips. Go down to your clavicle then gently cup your breasts."

"This is making me shiver," you breathed out. 

"Good. I bet you're wearing a thin bralette and your perked nipples are poking through."

You sighed as you touched them and smiled at Doyoung's correct intuition.  

"Yes," you replied. 

"Can you play with them as I would if I were there?" 

You whined and bit your lower lip trying to resist the urge. 

"Doyoung-," this is a little inappropriate and honestly, kinda rude of you, especially since you went mia suddenly and now you want to pick up from where you left, you intended to say but didn’t manage to. 

"Do it," he commanded and your hand flew to your breasts and started to play with your nipples as if it didn't belong to you anymore. 

"Good girl. Does it feel good?" 

"Yes," you whispered. 

"Speak up love."

"I can't be loud."

"Oh really? Then, now slip one hand under your panties and rub your clit. I bet you're soaking wet and let's see if you'll be able to not be loud." 

His voice sounded like a hypnotic melody and you didn't even question it when you found yourself with the fingers gently pressing on your clit in little circles. Your breath got quicker and heavier, the grip on the phone was even stronger. 

"Doyoung-," 

"Yes, babe? Does it feel good?" he cooed. 

"It feels so fucking good-," 

"Can you slip a finger in for me too, love?" 

You nodded even if he couldn't see you and you did as he wished, the stretch so unsatisfying in comparison to Doyoung's girth to make you whine frustrated. 

"I- I wished you fucked me instead-," 

"Okay then," he replied calmly and for a split second, you wondered if the whole phone sex thing was not something you weren’t good at to make him reply so dryly when the door to your office opened and Doyoung took his tongue out at you. 

His sudden presence made you so flustered that you promptly pulled your fingers away as if he caught you doing it instead of being the one ordering you around. 

"What are you doing here?" you put your phone down with a shaking hand. 

He walked lazily towards your desk and put a paper bag on it. "Brought you your clothes."

You looked at them. "How did you get in? My secretary-," 

"Told him I was your boyfriend."

You felt the air stop inside your lungs at his words but you couldn't do much as Doyoung suddenly bent down with hands on the desk and took your still wet fingers into his mouth. 

You gasped softly as he sucked on them slowly, letting his tongue collect every single drop of your wetness, his deep eyes flickering with amusement at your visible lust. 

And you were so horny that you didn't even question it when he grabbed your wrists and made you stand. You took a step towards him but he pulled you by the waist and turned you around, pushing you towards the desk with his hips and pressing himself into your ass until you were bent over. 

"You look amazing like this, just like a little slut waiting for my cock, ain't I right?"  

You gasped for air as he pressed one palm on your spine and the other slowly raised your skirt. 

"You keep dressing like this at work. No wonder your secretary was so upset to hear that I was your boyfriend. Do you want us to put on a little show for him? So he knows his place." 

His fingers drawing lines up and down your clothed pussy prevented you from forming any words and when you felt your panties slip to the side and heard Doyoung's zip you inhaled aching to feel him inside. 

But he didn't touch you where you wanted him to. 

"Answer me," he slapped your ass and you curved your neck up with a hiss. 

"If you finally fuck me good enough perhaps I'll be loud enough for him to hear me."

Another slap. 

"Are you being a brat now? Should I not make you cum just like-," 

"Nonononono please please no please--" the string of begging erupted out of you way too easily and it was interrupted by Doyoung's dry laugh and hard cock finally slipping inside. 

You exhaled deeply and he grunted, bottoming out until you felt his hip bones on your ass. 

He remained still then he snapped. 

"Fuck fuck Doyoung--ah!" you cried out. 

"Louder."

Your voice would have increased in volume without him ordering that but it certainly added to the whole desk creaking and skin slapping symphony. 

One of his hands was palming your ass while the other pulled you towards him by the waist, but then he changed his mind and grabbed your arms by the elbows, pulling your torso up and making you curve your spine. 

You cried out his name again and stared at his reflection in the window in front of you. Eyebrows furrowed and a couple of strands of his hair fallen from the styled fringe made his gaze even deeper when you locked eyes. 

Then he smiled wickedly and a shiver shook your body knowing that nothing good will come out of that. And soon enough he let go of your arms and held your bust instead while the other wrapped your throat. You gasped for air and he attached his teeth to your shoulder sucking deeply and slowly, so different to the pace of his quick hips. 

Your desk phone rang and Doyoung held you harder as an indication to not even think about it. Not that you even cared about besides the way his cock was stretching you all out. 

The string of your choked moans just increased their tempo until you shuddered in his arms with a cry, so hard and so suddenly that his hips stopped and he let go of your throat in a second, holding your body and breathing deeply with you until you didn't whine anymore. 

A kiss on the cheek then on the neck and you turned your head around, searching for his lips. 

Your phone rang again and he smiled. 

"Answer."

"But you're still-," 

He grabbed the phone, placing it to your ear and you had nothing else to do than breathe heavily and greet with a shaking and hoarse voice. 

You understood the first three words of the person talking on the other side before Doyoung pushed you on the desk again and started to thrust into you, this time seeking his own high. 

You gritted your teeth and rotated your torso to be able to place your palm on his stomach and push your nail into his shirt. 

The look in your eyes just made him even more amused. 

“Yes, yes, no, could you please repeat that?” 

And even if the voice on the other line kindly repeated itself, your eyes rolled inside of your head and your body moved back and forth on the desk making you not understand a single thing. 

It was so highly unprofessional and inappropriate that it made your blood boil with pleasure. You hung up, making a mental note to call back and use the ‘line went dead’ excuse. 

Doyoung didn���t like that independence a single bit and he made sure to show you as you suddenly found yourself standing, no cock to stretch you out anymore and his hands on your waist turning your around. 

“On your knees.” 

You slipped down in front of him with hands on his stomach then you let them fall on his soft suit pants. 

The veins on his hand were popping when he grabbed his cock and lightly hit your lips with its tip. You let out your tongue and let it bounce on it, leaning in to be able to catch in between your lips. 

Doyoung tutted and took half a step back making your suck on air. 

“When and how I say so,” he murmured and got closer again. 

His other hand grabbed your head and kept you in place, fully controlling the way he pushed his shaft between your lips, slowly smearing his precum on them. 

“I really want to let my cum slide down your throat right now.” 

You opened your mouth eagerly and he smiled wickedly. 

It reached the back of your throat in one go and you gagged, pressing your nails into his thighs. Heavy on your tongue, you couldn’t move so it was Doyoung to slowly thrust his hips, increasing his movements until you started to drool. 

“Fuck, you’re so good-,” 

Short-breathed and fingers tightening in your hair you could feel him reaching his orgasm soon. 

You lifted your gaze up and when he pulled out to make your breath you cupped his balls with one hand and took him inside of your mouth again. 

He choked and started to grunt, meeting your movements with his erratic ones until he went suddenly still and you whined feeling his cum hit the back of your throat. 

You swallowed quickly making him hiss as he thrust a couple of times more and he pulled out slowly, a string of saliva and his seed to connect your tongue to his tip. 

“You’re amazing. You know that?” he whispered with a raspy voice. His fingers caressed your cheeks and lips as you looked up at him panting.

_____

“Do you want me to hit him with my car?” 

Knowing him, it wasn’t a joke so you lightly hit his thigh. “Jeno!”

He chuckled. 

Meeting your soulmate - it should have been electrical, like two magnets meeting each other. 

The first moment you saw his shoulders, you knew it was him. Before you even saw his face and learned his name, you sighed in relief. Finally, you’ve found him and you were at home. 

Then why was it so difficult to just be with Doyoung?

He fucked you good and kissed your lips. He made sure you were okay after fucking your throat and even massaged your feet as you tried to catch your breath on the couch inside your office. 

“Can you please bring us, like, something to drink and some snacks?” Doyoung opened the door and talked to a very mortified secretary. 

“Sure,” he suddenly got up and looked around as if not knowing which planet he was on.

“Why are you torturing that poor boy?” you rolled your eyes when Doyoung plopped back on the couch near him. “Now he’ll want to resign from the job and he was quite good at it.” 

“I think he liked it. I know a post nut face when I see one and he definitely had some fun under that desk.” 

The secretary entered the office and his lips were tight as he placed the tray with coffee on the little table in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled kindly at him. 

“No sugar for you ma’am and one sugar for you sir,” he announced before leaving as quickly as he came in. 

You leaned in and took your mug, sighing when you felt it’s warmth heat your skin.

“How did he know I take my coffee with one sugar?” Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows while doing the same. 

You looked at him and shrugged. “I told you he’s good at his job.”  

And you were thankful that the boy didn’t leave because now as you talked to Jeno in your office, weeks after you’ve seen Doyoung in there, you really needed someone to do your job. 

“I’m just not even concentrating much. I think I caught feelings for him while he only saw this as-- fucking,” you threw your hands in the air once and sighed, sitting down at your desk. 

Jeno hummed pensively. “Well, he strikes me as someone too romantic for that. People who just hookup don’t behave as he does. They just fuck and leave.” 

You rubbed the bridge of your nose. “I just think he was being considerate. You can’t fuck someone’s mouth then leave them there like that.” 

Jeno hummed again. “But he did call you my girl and he called himself your boyfriend.” 

You looked up. “My girl as the girl that I fuck and my boyfriend only to make the secretary let him in.”

Your friend pursed his lips as if considering that side of events. 

“How do you even know all of these details? I don’t remember telling you any of this before,” you chuckled. 

Jeno cleared his voice. “You told me. Are you having a loss of memory too now?” 

You sighed. “Maybe.” 

The young boy cleared his voice again. “Anyway! Plan. Send him nudes.” 

“What?” you exclaimed. 

You could go around your sweet friend Jeno suggesting you to fuck Doyoung when he was the Rabbit boy but suggesting you to send the dude nudes? 

Seeing his pink cheeks Jeno must have suddenly realized what he has just said too and regretted it. 

“Trust me. He’s an air sign. They like sexting and mind fucking and all of that stuff. Now I have to go.”

You looked at him standing up. “Since when are you into astrology? Also, where are you going? We were supposed to have lunch together!” 

“Sext him and send him a good coochie pic. Bye, love you,” he left like the wind and you leaned back in your chair perplexed.

_____

"Do you trust me?" 

"Yeah," his voice was a whisper and it got engulfed by the jingle of handcuffs in your hands. 

You were so beautiful and intoxicating that Doyoung found himself having difficulties breathing when you slowly started to crawl on the bed towards him. 

“I’m glad you wore the lingerie I sent you,” he whispered, hands reaching towards you to feel the material under his fingertips. But you grabbed them with a sudden force and Doyoung groaned, finding himself pinned to the bed instead.  

“No touching,” you purred. 

The young man sighed, feeling his cock twitching on his lower stomach. 

You eyed it and smiled like a cat. “You want me to touch you, babe?” 

Doyoung nodded. “Please?” 

You licked your lips and leaned down, your lips so close to his cock to make him audible whine. A little bit. A little bit more and he would feel-

And then he woke up shaking in his bed. 

“Shit.” Doyoung closed his eyes again, rolling on his back with a certain difficulty. 

His cock was so hard that it was almost painful and he felt short-breathed. 

He looked at his ceiling again and he blinked twice when he realized by the hue of it that his phone lit up. 

With a groan he extended his arm to the side and grabbed it, narrowing his eyes at the bright screen. 

Then he choked and sat up.

“Fuck!” Doyoung exclaimed upon seeing his phone turn dark in his hands. 

With a quick roll of the body, he put his palms on the ground looking for his charger. It took him some other swears and grunts to finally charge it but the phone remained black.

“What the fuck,” he sighed, hitting his head into the pillow.

_____

It was in the way you walked, the way your feet touched the floor. 

Or maybe it was the way the air floated between your fingers when you moved your wrists as if grabbing something in Doyoung’s chest and pulling him towards you. 

The line of your back extended up until your neck, the line of your jaw, your cheeks puffing up when you laughed and your eyes closing for a second. The sound of it making his heart beat faster and a little smile creeping on his lips although he was in a very bad mood that day. 

The people you were talking to stopped looking at you and stared somewhere behind your back instead. 

Mouth still open while explaining to them that blue and red looked disgusting together, you turned around to see what caught their attention and you met Doyoung’s face. 

Your breath hitched and you had to swallow a few times before being able to speak. 

“Hey,” you straightened your back as he approached you. 

“It’s time for a lunch break,” he announced without batting an eye. 

You blinked a few times, trying to process his presence there all of a sudden. 

“You’re dismissed,” he spoke to the creative team and they obeyed him, walking away slowly and chuckling between themselves. 

You waited for them to not eavesdrop and huffed before whispering. “Who do you think you are?” 

“Your soulmate.” 

He slipped his hand in yours and started to walk towards the exit. You let yourself be dragged amused for the first steps then stopped. 

“My bag.” 

Doyoung rolled his eyes and raised his other hand that was already holding it. 

“Come on. I’m starving.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked the back of his head as you were already descending the stairs. “Why are you here?” 

“I’m annoyed,” he replied as if that was a sufficient explanation and opened the passenger seat’s door for you. "So I wanted to see you because it puts me in a good mood."

You looked at him for a few moments then sighed, trying to conceal your flustered emotions. 

“Why are you annoyed? Because you realized that leaving me on read last night was stupid?” you put on your seatbelt. 

When you raised your head Doyoung’s palms were on both sides of your face and his lips on yours. You exhaled softly, not expecting any of it so suddenly, then timidly you rested your hand on his knee. The luscious material of his suit was delicate under your fingertips so you absentmindedly started to draw little circles on it, imitating the pattern Doyoung’s tongue was making yours dance in. When he pulled away slightly you managed to look at his eyes. He placed another peck on your lips, then another. By the time he placed the third one you were giggling. The corners of his mouth raised too and you cupped his face and he flinched imperceptibly. 

“I thought you wanted to slap me.” 

“There are many reasons why I would want to slap you but not today.” 

“Not today.” 

“Be ready anytime.” 

“You too,” he kissed your knuckles before putting his hands on the wheel. “But like on the butt.”

The engire roared as Doyoung turned the keys. 

“My phone died,” he explained. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“I swear.”

The engine roared again and you drove away from the winery's parking lot. 

You sighed, crossing your arms on your chest. 

“It’s okay. Only because you’re sweet.”  

"Am I sweet?" 

"You are." 

"You're sweet too so I can't wait to eat you out again."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Okay, you went there." 

But he didn't do anything you'd expect him to do. Entering his apartment calmly, you both let the shoes at the entrance and you sighed to feel his soft living room rug under your bare feet. 

No bending, no pushing and no hands to knead your flesh. 

You tilted your head to the side amused as he placed your bag on the couch and ventured towards the kitchen. 

"Is Jaemin home?" you inquired. Maybe that was the reason he didn't want to rearrange your guts that day. 

Doyoung took away his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves. Your eyes followed his movements and although you weren't horny one bit before you saw him, now you would have been able to go on for multiple rounds with no rest in between upon seeing just his forearms. You took away your jacket too and expected him to do something already but he turned around and entered the kitchen instead. 

"I'm making spaghetti."

You blinked at his profile as he retrieved a pan and a pot, filling the latter with water. 

"Did you really bring me here for lunch?" you couldn't help but ask as you sat down at the table. 

"Yeah. Why? Is that strange?" 

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've always sought me for other things."

He faked an offended expression. "I fed you dinner last time."

You smiled. "But you also fucked me."

"You want me to fuck you after spaghetti?" 

"Not necessarily. I like just hanging out with you, but only you like it as well."

As if sensing something in your tone, his amusement wore off when he finally started to cut the onions. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I like it?" 

"I mean, we've never really openly discussed this," you gestured between you. "Hell, I fucked you three times before knowing your name."

"You've never asked for it."

"Yeah, well, my mouth was busy doing something else." 

He smiled a little and let the onions fall into the hot pan, stirring a few times and opening the fridge to retrieve the tomato sauce. 

"How do you want to discuss it?" 

His voice got quieter and you had the hunch that he really didn't like having serious talks or emotional ones. Just like, well, just like your supposed soulmate. The thought made your stomach knot up. 

"I know this might sound a little funny, but like, what are we?" 

Doyoung added the tomato sauce and sprinkled salt, pepper and hot pepper flakes on it before stirring. His domestic look made your chest hurt in ways you've never experienced with him before and suddenly you were afraid to know what he had to say. 

"I don't know, but we can be something starting now."

You sighed a little. "Like, friends with benefits?" 

Doyoung's expression didn't change but his throat moved as he swallowed. The water started to boil and he put the spaghetti in, pushing them inside as they softened. 

"You want us to be friends with benefits?" 

No. 

Yes. 

But like no. 

You wanted the friends, you wanted the benefits, but you wanted more. 

Would you scare him away if you said that? Would he retreat just like he did when you mentioned the soulmates discourse? 

"What about you?"

Dancing around each other like two assassins about to throw the first dagger you let the silence be the witness of it. 

"I like you," he hit you first but it was no knife. It was light just like a kiss and your eyelids fluttered. 

"Really?" 

He let out a single soft chuckle. "Yeah. Why are you so surprised?" 

You gulped and looked around not knowing what to say. 

"It's just-- your whole soulmate discourse made it look like you wouldn't be romantically interested in me at all."

Doyoung didn’t speak for a moment as if trying to remember, then nodded. 

"I don't believe in soulmates." 

He placed the lid on the sauce and let it slowly cook. 

"I believe in choices. And I'm choosing you I guess."

"Don't you think that maybe you're conditioned to choose me because I'm your soulmate?" you tried to joke but Doyoung didn't smile. 

"And where would the fun be in that? My freedom? I think the universe might give you a path but you're free to follow it or not."

"Of course. But isn't it comforting to know that the universe is taking care of you that way?" 

"Maybe. Perhaps we're actually soulmates and we've met like ones but now it's our duty to do something about it. I can decide not to see you anymore. What's the universe going to do about it?" 

"Make me get into your way and annoy you?" you smiled and his lips curved too.  

"What I'm trying to say is that I think we're making our soulmates. I decide that you're my soulmate and we mould ourselves to fit each other. No one is a perfect fit."

You didn't know what to say. 

"I tried all of this time you know? I actively sought you out and maybe to you it was fate but we wouldn't be here if I didn't come to you. But you've just been waiting."

His words stung your heart and it felt like a scold. 

"I just--it's not like I don't care. I also like you. A lot. I was just--hoping for it to be soulmate like, you know? Maybe that was childish of me." 

"What did the Lady tell you? As your last words?" 

"To have faith."

"Me too. But to me, faith is putting in the effort and believing in good results. Not waiting for stuff to happen."

"I guess you're right."

"Would you have let me go if you didn't think I was the soulmate you were looking for?" 

You blinked a few times unable to speak. 

Yeah. 

You would have and the sudden realization felt so scary that your spine started to shiver. 

He has been speaking without looking at you and at your silence, he turned his head towards you. When he noticed your glossy eyes he let the pan go and walked towards you.

"Why? No. Why are you crying?" he kneeled in front of you, talking with a soft voice and he placed his hands on your shoulders. 

You shook your head shocked to see a few drops on your thighs and quickly patted your cheeks dry. Then you let out a timid laugh. 

"I don't know what happened. I got emotional all of a sudden. It's fine."

Doyoung sighed and nibbled at his lower lip. 

"What I'm trying to say is, even if someone came to me now and told me that you're not my soulmate and they are instead, I would not care. I'm still choosing whoever I want and that's you."

You felt your chin shake by itself and hated the fact that you wore your emotions on your sleeve like that. 

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" 

You shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I fucked up something." 

Doyoung waited, his fingers gently running your arms. 

"I would have probably made the mistake of letting you go-," you sobbed, "and at first since things have been so weird and not necessarily easy I didn’t try enough-," 

His eyes softened and he pulled you into a hug. 

"You're here now. Why are you worrying about things that could have happened?" 

You wrapped his neck and hid your face into his shirt. His familiar scent culled you and you bathed in his warmth. 

"I feel like I'm very childish right now and the lady told me that my soulmate liked me for being a boss woman-," 

"I like all of our sides, you fool," he pulled you away and kissed your forehead. 

"But you’d like me more if I tied you up." "You’d also like me more if I tied you up." "I actually like it when you're subby." "See? And the lady told me that you liked me being dominant." "I do love it when you're dominant," you timidly circled his chest with your finger. "Hm, maybe I should-," 

"The pasta!" you yelled pointing your finger and Doyoung jolted turning around towards the stove. 

The pasta was completely fine and he sighed closing his eyes. 

"I thought it was on fire," he complained with a whiny tone as he turned the stove off. Quickly he drained the spaghetti and threw it in the tomato sauce stirring it afterwards. With the corner of his eye, he saw you stand. 

"Come here."

You giggled and took a few quick steps back. 

His eyes were furious and paired with his smiling expression he looked like a tornado. 

"Come here," he repeated. 

You shook your head. 

"I said-," he managed to grab you and throw you on his shoulder, "-come here."

"Fuck!" you squealed. "Yeah, fuck, that's exactly what I'm going to do to you now."

One second you were standing and the other you were lying down on the couch with the most aggressive Doyoung you’ve ever seen attached to your neck. 

The whines came quickly as he sucked your skin inside the mouth, not worrying for a second if it might become sore. As you grabbed his belt his iron fingers clasped your wrists together and you found yourself pinned with your arms above your head. Your chest rose and fell fast looking at his dark eyes under the unstyled fringe. 

“Be a good girl and perhaps I’ll think about making you cum,” he whispered through his teeth. You squirmed under him and found yourself breathless. 

“Did you hear me?” his other hand fell back the exact moment he bit down on your clothed nipple. 

“Are you not wearing a bra?” 

You giggled. “I manifested you coming to see me today. And you did.” 

His eyes were dark as they analyzed you and for an instance, you thought he’d burst into tears. 

But then he reached the hem of your blouse and lifted it up in a second, biting your nipple, letting his tongue circle it afterwards, soothing the sudden sweet pain then biting on it again, stretching it out, sucking on it, giving the same treatment to the other one. His fingers intertwined yours when he felt your wrists try to lift up from the couch and he pushed them down even harder than before. 

“Do I have to tie you all up? Huh? I bet you’d like it, right?” 

His breath was hot on your lips and so was his tongue when he took it out and slowly outlined them with his wet tip. You opened your mouth and took out your tongue too with a little moan, trying to catch him into a kiss, but he chuckled lightly and let you feel the air instead. Another whine as you lifted your head to reach him but he was quick to push you down by pressing his fingers on your throat. You choked lightly and he pouted. 

“Bad baby girls don’t get to kiss,” he murmured. "But if you really want it-" he pressed one finger on your lower lip and opened your mouth. Y

our thighs tightened their hold around his waist and you pulled him towards you even more. The trail of saliva falling on your tongue from his mouth added somehow to the wetness between your legs. 

You wanted to be a good girl. You wanted to be a good girl so badly, pleasing him and letting him whatever he wanted to you. 

Swallowing slowly, you opened your mouth for more and he finally shoved his tongue inside, kissing you deeply, grunting as he let your hands go and you were quick to let them slide under his shirt. 

His skin was hot and your fingers icy cold. He hissed when you circled his nipples and bit your lip. 

"Maybe you should warm your hands by doing something useful." He took his cock out and-

"Okay, that's enough!" Jeno threw a cloth on the crystal ball. 

"Ah! Come on! I was having so much fun," the Lady complained, jingling her earrings as she giggled. 

The boy sitting across the table made a throwing up sound. "Also, why are you still looking like that? It's creeping me out," he commented. 

The Lady looked at the mirror on her right and chuckled again. 

"I like it when Haechannie is like this," Jaemin appeared from behind him and playfully kissed his cheek. 

Jeno made another gag sound. "Gross."

Haechan shook his head and as the boys blinked he was back to his boyish looks. "I'll never get used to this," Jaemin murmured as he was not holding long hair anymore. 

"Good job guys. We did it again," Haechan stood up and yawned, lifting his arms in a satisfying stretch. "If Jaemin didn't get back home that time she was over then it might have been quicker," Jeno lifted his legs on the table and leaned down on the chair. 

“This is my first job! It was very tough for me actually,” Jaemin complained. 

“Hard for you? I had to be myself, the winery girl, the secretary-,” he counted on his fingers. 

“I had to be the cashier and I almost lost it when Jaemin said he couldn’t wait to taste your wet pussy-,” Haechan threw his head back and laughed. Jaemin imitated him soon after.

“Did you see Doyoung’s face? He wasn’t into it at all.” 

"I miss being a Gryffindor. This universe is boring as fuck,” Jeno rolled his eyes even if he was also smiling a little. 

"The next one might be as boring as this my dear friends," Haechan sat back down and brought out his book. 

Jeno groaned. "Can't we have a normal life for once? I had to pretend I was a girl. And not only. The thought of Y/N thinking I was doing BDSM stuff with that guy-," he indicated a very amused Jaemin, "-took a toll on my health." 

"I'm sorry I'm not a shapeshifter too. I would have loved to be the girl in this relationship. Also, it was you that told her we were doing BDSM stuff, not me.”

“It’s because I forgot to fully shift my arms! She thought I was-,”

"Quiet."

As Haechan spoke the guys immediately stopped talking and Jeno put his feet down. 

"The next one is going to be a hard one. We're going to a dark place."

He closed the book.

"To hell, boys."

[solalunar-eclipse]

A Gift To Remember

Summary: Shadow receives a gift for his birthday that causes a series of very interesting (and often cute) events.

Word count: about 7500 words

Author’s Note: I didn’t realize today was Shadow’s birthday! At the moment I’m more than a little confused because the release dates for SA2 say everything from the 18th to the 23rd, but this seems to be the one, so here this is!

Also, to that one anon whose question about this fic I never quite managed to answer- sorry about that and I do hope you’re still here to read this!

...

The main room of Team Dark’s home was, on a normal day, at least somewhat clean- which was in and of itself surprising, considering the fact that three teenagers lived there. (It was, of course, slightly less surprising when it was noted that one of these teenagers was a giant robot, one was already a businesswoman, and one had grown up in an incredibly clean environment.)

At the moment, however, said room was currently rather less clean, instead covered in various colorful signs, streamers, balloons, and other such decorations. After all, today was a very special day.

When Shadow and Rouge had discovered they shared a birthday (or creation day for Shadow, technically), they both became infinitely more determined to celebrate it for the other’s sake. This had actually, interestingly enough, also ended up making them enjoy their own festivities more than they had in quite some time.

Omega, meanwhile, had officially decided that this was his favorite day of the year.

Over the past few days, Rouge had already received a few presents from various people she knew in the line of clothes, makeup, or jewelry- but as much as she loved gems, her favorites so far were definitely the ones Omega and Shadow had gotten for her: a laser cutter that could slice through anything and a pair of (stylish) infrared goggles, respectively.

Shadow had just opened his present from Omega, which happened to be a sword that looked very cool...but was also longer than his actual body. This wasn’t actually as big of a problem for him as might be expected, as he’d gotten used to handling weapons several times his size during the alien invasion a little while back. 

He had, however, been told rather quickly by Rouge to put it away ‘before you slice the wall in half, this place does cost money, you know!’.

Next, Rouge placed her present in his hands, but at first all Shadow could do was just stare at it. This was likely because the gift wasn’t actually wrapped, but instead consisted of a box made of wood slats and filled, oddly enough, with paper shavings. There were quite a few ribbons on it, though, in an attempt to make up for the lack of other decorations.

“I couldn’t wrap it, or else the present wouldn’t have worked.” she explained, sitting back down to watch him open it.

After prying off the top and shifting aside some of the paper pieces, the hedgehog froze.

Inside, there sat a single white chao egg.

Carefully lifting the egg out of the box, Shadow held it gingerly, as though he were afraid it might try to bite him if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“Rouge…” he began nervously. “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate this, but...are you sure I’m the best person to be taking care of a chao?”

“Of course, hon!” she said. “You’ve taken care of them before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but…” Shadow protested, “...are you sure I’ll be able to do as well at home? The garden is their natural habitat…”

Omega folded his arms. “YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM. OF COURSE YOU CAN RAISE A CHAO.”

“That’s right!” Rouge added. “The chao are always happy when you take care of them- this time isn’t going to be any different.”

“…I suppose so.” Shadow conceded, taking a deep breath. He began to rock the egg slowly from side to side. “Here we go-”

A crack appeared across the pristine white surface. The split spread rapidly while Shadow sat and watched, making sure not to move the egg about much. Chao had to hatch their eggs on their own- it was the way they first began to strengthen themselves. 

Rouge laughed. “See? You know exactly what you’re doing!”

Shadow studiously ignored her and continued to focus on the egg. Then, suddenly, a chirp came from inside and the whole top half came flying off.

The hybrid looked at his newborn chao...and his heart (though he’d never admit it) immediately melted. Soft, big eyes gazed up at him, an overjoyed smile on the creature’s face. It cooed happily upon seeing him give a small smile back, and he reached out and began to gently pat its head.

The chao broke into an even wider smile as its eyes closed blissfully, the little sphere above its head popping into a heart. Shadow continued to pet it, offering gentle words of praise, and might have continued like that for the next ten minutes had a camera noise from Omega not made him look up in alarm.

“ADDING IMAGE TO FILE: SHADOW BEING SOFT.” he declared, while Rouge looked on with a giant grin.

“You will do nothing of the sort-” Shadow growled, jumping to his feet, before a soft whimper from his chao stopped him. Its eyes were watery, wide and distressed, and the hybrid immediately scooped it up in his arms, holding it close. It relaxed quickly, snuggling into his chest fluff, and he shot Omega one last semi-serious glower before turning his attention back to the newborn.

Omega promptly took another picture.

…

Later that day, at the party that all of their friends had thrown for them, the chao and Shadow were nearly inseparable. It tended to rest in his lap when he was sitting or rode in between his ears whenever he stood up to get something. Eventually, though, the excitement of a new environment overwhelmed its initial nervousness, which unfortunately led to Shadow returning from the dining room with his hands full of plates of food to discover his chao crawling along the precarious edge of a bookshelf.

Suddenly, the chao’s footing slipped, and Shadow froze, unable to move or do anything- but then Sonic of all people noticed and was already there, leaping up and catching the chao before resting it snugly in his arms. “Looks like someone’s already progressed to the giving-their-owner-a-heart-attack stage, hm?” he asked, smirking at the little creature.

“Thank you.” Shadow said as his chao was returned to him, trying very hard to ignore the way his hands and Sonic’s brushed in the process.

(He’d been nursing a bit of a crush on the hero for a while now, but had decided to ignore it until it wore off. Sonic had admirers from all across the globe vying for his attention- it was absurd to think that anything could happen between them.)

…

Over the coming weeks, all three members of Team Dark made sure to rework their schedules so that someone was always home to watch over the chao- no more climbing on bookcases for the little one now. Shadow did most of the caretaking, feeding, training, cleaning, and providing Chaos Drives (mostly green) to the chao. Rouge did, however, occasionally claim she could ‘handle the extra work’ to give him some spare time and Omega even took it upon himself to watch it every so often.

Sometimes, Shadow and his chao would even cook together in the kitchen (a hobby he’d discovered he enjoyed after finding out that Rouge tended to eat takeout all the time- “You can’t live off that day in and day out- you’re not me, Rouge!”). The sight of a tiny pale blue creature determinedly lifting a bag of flour and flying it across the room was awfully cute- especially after Shadow bought it a tiny apron in what he unconvincingly claimed was an accidental purchase. 

Shadow never made accidental purchases.

As much as the hybrid took care of it, though, the chao also seemed to be helping him. He smiled more, glowered less, and generally seemed more tolerant of mistakes than he had been in the past. Nowadays, errors that would once have caused him to go off on a rant or huff about were now met with a calmer ‘it’s okay’ or an offer for help fixing it.

He often laid a hand on it in his sleep or curled around it protectively, and could easily be seen patting its head, carrying it around, or even- when he thought he was alone- nuzzling it gently. The amount of time and care he put into making sure that his chao was happy would have been astonishing to anyone who hadn’t already seen how much he cared about his friends.

It was no surprise then that, before long, Rouge and Omega woke up one morning to find the chao inside a cocoon (and also a very stressed-out Shadow).

The hedgehog promptly called in sick for the entire week- an incredible occurrence for him. He’d originally sworn that since he couldn’t get ill, he’d give his sick days to others when they needed it, but now that was all out the window. He wanted nothing more than to stay home and essentially sit and stare at the cocoon until it hatched.

While the two other members of Team Dark managed to convince him to eat, sleep, and do chores on regular intervals, whenever Shadow had a spare moment he’d stay in his room, watching and waiting. Their friends got so worried that Rouge and Omega had used everything in their power to coax him out of the house twice over those five days, but he refused to do any more. Even then his outings had to come with the promise that they’d both stay home, check it every five minutes, and call him the absolute moment something happened.

On the sixth day of waiting, the cocoon began to hatch while Shadow was attempting to discreetly read out loud to the chao from one of his favorite books. The moment he saw the split, he dropped the novel, jumped up, and shouted louder than he had in months- “Rouge! Omega! It’s HAPPENING!”

He hovered so closely around the cocoon that Omega had to physically pull him back as Rouge reminded him to give the chao more space. Within moments, the split had widened enough for a single black paw to poke out, feeling around carefully for some sort of purchase to pull itself the rest of the way outside. Soon enough, it had succeeded, earning- impressively enough- widened eyes from Omega and a gasp from both Shadow and Rouge.

Frowning light blue eyes were set in an equally grumpy (albeit adorable) face, with two little black ears and three tiny quills on the chao’s head. The ears and quills both had red stripes, as did the arms, legs, and even its tail. A red crescent shape sat on its chest, and two tiny purple bat wings flapped slowly behind it.

In short, it looked a lot like a tiny Shadow.

The hedgehog in question reached out carefully and began to pet his chao, offering some quiet words of praise, but before long it flew up and settled in its favorite spot in between his ears. When Shadow turned around to face his friends, they were met with the sight of a little glowering creature settled on top of his head…which really did look far too similar to the hybrid himself when he was irritated. 

Rouge covered a smile with both of her hands. “Shadow...hon…”

He frowned at her, only serving to make the resemblance more obvious. “What?”

“It looks exactly like you!”

“Not really- it has blue eyes and...bat wings…” He looked up at her suddenly. “Rouge...how much time have you been spending with Spark again?”

“Oh, just a little- wait, Spark?” she said quickly, redirecting his attention.

Shadow flushed a bright green at that. “I might’ve already picked out a name...does it sound alright?” he asked, studiously looking anywhere but at his friends.

The chao chirped at the name and snuggled a little further into the fur on his head, seemingly pleased with the title. 

He began to smile at that. “You like that name, do you?” he asked teasingly.

“It sure looks like it! I think it’s a lovely name, hon.” Rouge added.

The chao cooed, cementing its name with all of the team (whether Omega would admit it or not).

Now, if anything, Shadow and his chao were even more close than before. Rouge even bought it a tiny leather jacket to match his style, which was quickly deemed by everyone (especially their friends, to whom she’d sent about fifty photos) the most adorable thing ever. 

...

One day, Shadow came home from lunch out with Silver and Blaze only to discover a quite unexpected scene- though he really should have seen it coming, considering what he’d noticed after his chao had hatched. Rouge was kneeling next to the sofa, scratching Spark behind the ears and saying in what could only be described as a baby voice, “Who’s your favorite momma? Me, that’s right. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Uh….” he interrupted, feeling more than a little uncertain as to how to respond to this. He was torn between “I didn’t know you had a baby voice” and “I’m glad to see you and Spark getting along” and wasn’t entirely sure which one to go with here.

The bat, on the other hand, jumped a good three feet in the air at the sound before glaring at Shadow furiously. “Don’t startle me like that!” she shouted, more than a little tense...and also a bit worried?

The hybrid didn’t react, instead saying “It’s nice to see you spending time with Spark too, Rouge.” with a smile. 

She relaxed a little at that, and Shadow sighed. “Rouge, I wouldn’t make fun of you- I do the same kind of thing, don’t I?”

“You’re right, you’re right.” the bat admitted. “I just had to! It looks like me- it even has my wings! How could I not?”

Shadow moved to sit down on the sofa at that, reaching out to pat the chao as well. Rouge smiled at him gratefully, and then they both looked down at the cute creature in between them, who was promptly staring up at both with a confused look on its face. After a moment, though, it seemed to realize that everything was alright and nuzzled both Mobians before curling up on the couch happily.

…

Another time, the entire team was out grocery shopping at their favorite store when Spark’s eye was caught by the soft, warm cinnamon buns sitting behind a glass case. After a minute or two of desperate pulling at the seams- to no avail- it flew over to Shadow and began to poke at his shoulder until he turned to look at it.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, giving the chao a little scratch under the chin.

The chao pointed excitedly at the sweet treats, but its expression melted into one of dismay upon hearing him say “No, Spark, that’s not very good for you- and it’s too big for you to finish all by yourself, too.”

It mimed a clock insistently- they didn’t go to the store that often, after all- its frown deepening all the while. Shadow felt a little uncertain- he enjoyed giving the chao treats, but was now really the best time to feed it so much sugar? It could end up flying all over the place, and he really didn’t feel like getting banned from yet another grocery store. (The last one had been because Omega got a little too excited while messing around with the shopping cart and had melted it and twisted it into a knot...somehow. They were rapidly escorted out after that.)

Suddenly, though, the chao shuffled forward, took one of his fingers in between its tiny paws, and stared up at him with the softest, most pleading look it could possibly manage, its eyes wide and mouth quivering. “No...no, come on…” Shadow protested weakly, but already his resistance was melting away. It practically seemed to be saying haven’t I been good all week? Can’t I please just have this one treat? and the hybrid was in no condition to fight back.

Within moments, Spark was holding a cinnamon roll and dug into it with glee, only pausing once to nuzzle Shadow happily and offer him a quick bite as thanks. He accepted the gesture of appreciation easily (even though now his face had sugar on it after the chao’s affectionate thank-you) and was more than happy to see his chao smiling broadly with the treat in its hands.

…

The chao was, of course, still a great help to Shadow as well. One night in particular, it woke up to the sounds of quiet whimpering and began to look around, startled. For a moment, it turned to its caretaker for help- and then discovered that he was the one in trouble.

Shadow was curled up on his side, his brow creased in distress and his whole body shaking terribly. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and occasionally the most terribly saddening sounds would escape his mouth. Once or twice, a tear escaped and trickled down his face.

Spark crawled up to his face gently, licking away the tear and nuzzling his cheek. Shadow shuddered briefly, but seemed to relax almost infinitesimally when the dark chao pressed itself against his chest for a moment. Eventually, the creature managed to get him to roll onto his back, at which point it crawled onto his chest, hoping that this would help him begin to relax.

It really did work- within moments, the small, warm weight on his chest made Shadow’s breathing even out and his shivers ease as the nightmare that was plaguing him began to fade.

Spark curled up, pleased with itself, and fell back asleep not long after.

…

There was just one problem amongst all this newly-discovered happiness that came with the chao. Ever since it had evolved out of its cocoon, Omega seemed as though he were hardly willing to interact with it.

Rouge or Shadow would hand it over to him, only to get it back less than a minute later. He spent the least amount of time with it out of the three, but when he was asked if he didn’t like the chao, he never said as much. 

Omega didn’t tend to lie...but then why wouldn’t he do anything with it?

Once or twice, they’d caught him merely staring at Spark as the little creature sat on the couch, his optics clicking but otherwise utterly silent. The two Mobians hardly knew what to make of it- he’d never acted like this before.

They finally had the opportunity to discover why he was behaving strangely several days later, though, entirely due to an accident on Shadow’s part. Rouge and Omega had been answering a distress call regarding some rogue G.U.N. robots and needed to call in the hybrid to help. He’d driven his motorbike directly to the scene and leapt straight into battle…

...and hadn’t noticed Spark peeking out of the bag he’d left on his bike.

The chao- while fast, to be sure- was in no way prepared for a full-on battle. While at first it had hoped to help its little family, flying about uncertainly in hopes of doing something, it quickly discovered that the only thing it could really do was to hide behind an upended concrete slab and hope it wasn’t noticed.

That, unfortunately, didn’t quite work out.

It didn’t take long before one of the rogue drones spotted a fourth heat signature aside from the three it was fighting and began to stalk towards it, charging its laser cannon in the process. Shadow, confused at first, felt his stomach drop in horror upon seeing his tiny chao shaking in fear as the machine advanced on its hiding spot. He hadn’t thought to bring a Chaos Emerald, believing this would be an easy battle- and Rouge was busy in the air.

The laser cannon on the drone was almost fully charged, and Shadow fired up his skates in a futile attempt to somehow reach Spark before-

A white hot blast lit up the area.

Shadow couldn’t have stopped the strangled cry that came from his mouth if he had wanted to. The smoke began to clear, and he almost couldn’t look…

Something stirred within the haze, and as it cleared away, Shadow felt his whole body sag with relief upon seeing Omega shifting to an upright position from where he’d shielded the chao with the back of his chassis, blocking the full force of the laser. He let out a sigh as he caught a glimpse of Spark held safely in Omega’s hand as the other one retracted to reveal a flamethrower.

“MY TURN.”

Within moments, the drone was just so much melted slag on the floor and the battle’s tide was turned. Shadow and Rouge dispatched the other robots and then rushed to Omega, who had held onto the chao this entire time.

“Omega...thank you.” Shadow said, taking Spark from his friend and holding it tightly.

“IT WAS- zzzt- NOTHING.” Omega said, a sudden staticky buzz splitting his sentence in two.

“Omega?” Rouge asked, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you?”

“NOTHING.” he said hurriedly, his voice still glitching. “WAIT- DON’T YOU D-DARE-”

The three had already begun looking to see what had happened...but then froze when they saw the damage his back panel had taken while shielding Spark from the blast. A giant, smoking hole of warped and fused metal was burned into his chassis, revealing a bunch of melted and sparking wiring that definitely needed urgent attention.

“Omega…” Shadow looked horrified.

Rouge frowned, confused. “Why would you do this to yourself? I know how much you hate having to go get repairs.”

The robot let out a burst of static that sounded almost like a resigned sigh. Turning around, he muttered, “IT’S LI-LITERALLY YOU. AND ROUGE. BUT TINY. THAT APPEARS TO HAVE… STRANGE EFFECTS- zzzt- ON MY BEHAVIOR.”

“Do you...not like those effects?” Rouge asked, now clearly shifting into ‘I’m figuring things out’ mode. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding it so often?”

“I AM A ROBOT OF MASS DESTRUCTION. I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR TINY CREATURES SUCH AS THIS ONE. I SHOULD NOT FEEL ANY ‘WORRY’ ABOUT IT- AND YET-” Omega cut off there with a frustrated crackle.

Shadow still didn’t understand. “You’ve always been a robot of mass destruction, but you never thought it was weird to worry about us before.”

“THAT WAS DIFFERENT!” Omega insisted. “YOU BOTH ARE POWERFUL. IT IS NATURAL THAT RESPECT AND CONSEQUENTLY OTHER THINGS SHOULD COME FROM THAT. BUT THIS-! IT HAS NO DESTRUCTIVE QUALITIES! BUT STILL I...YOU KNOW...”

“It’s official, Omega.” Rouge said at that, a smirk growing on her face. “You’re becoming more and more like us...organics are always weak for cute things.”

“IT IS SHAMEFUL THAT I SHOULD COME TO THIS.” he grumbled.

“It’s not so bad, really.” Shadow said, placing a hand on his arm.

“And that’s coming from the guy who never used to admit he cares about people!” Rouge insisted. “Omega, you know you don’t have to be embarrassed about that kind of thing here- you’d never make fun of Shadow for not being tough all the time, would you?”

“I GUESS NOT…” he said, still seeming irritated.

At this point, Spark flew up to sit in Omega’s hand, looking up at the robot with its little frowning face, before reaching out and patting a single finger solemnly with its paw.

“OH NO.”

“Oh yes.” Rouge answered, grinning. “Let’s get you to Tails now though, okay? Then once you’re fixed up you can come home and pet the chao.”

Omega turned his head away and refused to dignify that with a response.

(He did, however, pet the chao when he got home. Nobody teased him about it, for which- while he’d never say it- he was rather grateful.)

…

It was inevitable, eventually, that Team Dark’s schedule wouldn’t be perfect and that they’d all have to be out and busy at some point. This, of course, meant that Spark would have to be dropped off at the chao daycare. 

Shadow had managed to force himself to reconcile with that fact, but the chao wasn’t nearly as good at that sort of thing.

On the day of, it was sobbing desperately, clinging to Shadow’s jacket with a tight grip as though it’d been handed a horrible punishment instead of a day spent at the warm, welcoming building in front of it. “It’s going to be alright. You’ll be okay, it’s just for a day. See, the Mobians who run it are very nice- won’t you look?” the hybrid whispered in a soothing voice, gently rubbing Spark’s head.

Omega stepped forward. “DON’T YOU...WANT TO SHOW HOW BRAVE YOU CAN BE?” he said awkwardly. Talking to the chao was still taking some getting used to for him, but he was definitely trying his best.

Rouge smiled warmly at that. “Of course! We’ll all be so proud of you, don’t you know that?”

“We can make a cake especially for you when you get home too, alright?” Shadow said, and that was the final thing the chao needed to hear. Wiping its eyes with a final few sniffles, it flew over to the little walkway towards the entrance and stood up tall, its body shaking slightly with leftover stress and its attempts not to cry.

“We love you!” Rouge called, blowing it a quick kiss.

“See you soon.” Shadow said gently, waving with a smile.

“YOU’LL BE THE BEST ONE THERE.” Omega added, shuffling in place a little.

The chao whimpered briefly, but then turned away and bounded into the daycare before it could lose its nerve. 

Throughout the morning, it remained relatively antisocial- a bit like the hedgehog whose appearance it had taken- during the music and karate lessons. The other chao all babbled and played together, being mostly neutral and hero-types, and the few dark chao that were there wanted to cause an awful lot more trouble than Spark was in the mood for.

One thing that it noticed very clearly, though, was the extraordinarily frustrating presence of a royal blue hero and speed-type chao.

This chao didn’t seem to think even once (let alone twice) about anything it did. It banged on the drums until Spark’s ears were sore during music class and then somehow managed to smack it in the face during karate lessons twice, and all the while it chatted away with about five other chao all around it.

Needless to say, by midday, when it was playtime, Spark had just about had enough.

When the blue chao rushed directly through the little sand city that it had been carefully building, swiping everything away with a single dash, Spark growled, picked up the plastic shovel it had been playing with, and threw it so hard it whacked the other creature in the arm.

Snarling, it began to stomp off when it felt a hand on its shoulder. The blue chao darted away and began hurriedly to try and rebuild the city, occasionally glancing up at Spark with an apologetic expression in its eyes.

It...looked awfully sad, actually.

Suddenly, the dark chao remembered how it had quickly stopped banging on the drums when the teacher had told it to, and how it had looked rather guilty when it had smacked Spark in the face, and how excited it was when talking with the other chao…

Maybe it was just a little clumsy sometimes.

Spark sighed a little. The other meant well, it decided, as its anger began to fade. It appreciated the apology...but now the sculptures were gone and it couldn’t get them back. Then, though, its gaze fell upon a pair of toy cars sitting nearby. 

Pulling the blue chao over to a strip of flat, packed earth nearby, it gave one car to its surprised companion and then set its own down at a line that could work quite well as the start of a race.

Soon enough, the other creature worked out the idea and began to cheer with delight, and before long they were racing cars like they’d been friends since the start. Eventually, they even switched to running races themselves, over and over again until they were all worn out and collapsed on the cool grass in a heap. Before long, though, they were up and at it again, only this time they started with a building game, and then had a little fun with the musical instruments, and soon enough Spark couldn’t help but wonder how they had ever fought in the first place.

Eventually, they decided that their next activity would be a race to the top of the jungle gym they noticed nearby. Spark was determined not to lose as it scrambled up the bars. It pulled itself paw over paw up the structure, getting closer and closer to the top, until-

Suddenly, a bar that it had been sure existed in front of it only a moment ago was now clearly just a little too far away, and the mistake caused it to reel forward, desperately clinging to the slippery bar it sat on. It twisted head over heels until it slid and fell all the way back to the ground, the wind slammed forcefully out of its little lungs.

Spark gasped soundlessly, trying and failing to pull air back into itself. After several agonizing seconds, it finally caught its breath- and then nearly got it knocked back out again by the impact of its new friend.

Regaining focus, the dark chao realized with a start that its friend was practically wailing into its chest, the soft blue creature shaking with desperate, panicked sobs. It looked up quickly, its eyes swollen and teary, and then reached out with its paws and hurriedly patted Spark’s body down, as though to reassure itself that the dark chao was still there. 

The creature in question sat up and pulled its friend into a tight hug, feeling nothing less than awful as the blue chao sniffled and whimpered worriedly in its arms. Eventually, it managed to calm down enough to amble over to a small nest made of blankets especially for tired chao and lay down there next to Spark. The two chao curled up together, nuzzling gently as the shaky breaths of the blue one finally evened out.

Spark felt the little ball over its head pop into a heart shape, and noticed briefly that its friend had done the same. They remained curled up like that for the last half-hour or so of their time in the daycare, alternately simply cuddling or talking about their respective owners.

Spark hoped they’d get to spend more time with this friend of theirs soon.

…

Shadow pulled up to the daycare on his motorcycle at closing time, doing his best to smooth out his frazzled quills. It wouldn’t be very good to let his chao know that he’d been nearly as worried about it as it had felt itself. 

He sighed, making his way towards the entrance of the building- and instantly felt the last wisps of his composure vanish upon seeing Sonic standing just inside. Before he could panic and flee the area at top speed, his legs (which didn’t seem to have received the message just yet) carried him through the door and inside.

Almost immediately, the blue hedgehog turned to face him with a bright smile. “Oh! Hey, Shadow!” Sonic said happily. “I didn’t know you brought your chao here, too! I’ve gotta say hi to the little guy again sometime!”

“This is my first time bringing it here. If it’s alright with that…I suppose you may.” the hybrid said, trying his best to sound coherent and cool (but actually just seeming stiff and awkward).

They talked for a little while as they waited for their chao to come out, chatting about their lives and friends. More than once, Shadow had to pinch himself in order to stay focused. His mind kept threatening to wander off into dreamland when he was around the hero, ready to admire his many great qualities (and wonderful appearance) at the drop of a hat.

Eventually, though, he became a bit worried by the fact that chao after chao were wandering out through the playroom door, being collected, and leaving…but neither Spark nor Sonic’s chao had even showed up. Soon enough, the two decided to walk into the room and find their tiny charges themselves.

“Uh, hi, mixter!” Sonic greeted the leopard who ran the daycare. “Didja see my lil’ buddy somewhere around here?”

“Oh, hello Sonic!” they said brightly- clearly the hero had been to this place quite a few times before. “Yes, your chao is over there in that nest there, sorry. I just hated to disturb those two…”

Shadow frowned. Those two?

His question was promptly answered when Sonic whisked aside the blanket covering the nest, only for both of them to stare at the sight inside.

Two purring chao, one clearly Sonic’s and the other obviously Shadow’s, were snuggled up together with big hearts floating over their heads. Even the hybrid’s dark chao, notorious for its ever-present frown, looked completely at peace with a small smile on its face.

He tried his best not to freak out.

“Erm…” Shadow began eloquently.

“Uh…” Sonic replied.

The two chao perked up at this, looking happily at their owners before nuzzling gently together in a manner that made Shadow’s stomach leap into his throat and then crash straight through the floor. In a further twist (both in events and in the striped hedgehog’s internal organs), Sonic’s chao then leapt happily into his arms, leaving Shadow to stare at the tiny version of his crush cuddling into his chest fur.

He sincerely hoped there was a convenient couch nearby for him to sit down on.

“Blu- come on-” Sonic began, looking oddly panicked for some reason, but then Spark sprang eagerly onto his shoulder and the hero rapidly fell silent as the dark chao nudged his cheek.

The two hedgehogs stared at each other for a long time. Shadow tried to move or do something other than just stand there, but it was awfully difficult when the hero was looking at him with those wide, soft green eyes….

“Er…Sonic?” Shadow finally choked out, in an odd, strained sort of tone.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’d like my chao back now.”

“Yeah.”

They each handed over their respective creatures, though Shadow felt rather reluctant to let such a tiny version of Sonic out of his arms. And for a moment he could almost have sworn that the hero held Spark a little longer than necessary, too…

…

Once he got home, the hybrid collapsed onto the couch and covered his eyes briefly with a hand. Spark, who had at first rushed into the kitchen (not having forgotten the promise of cake), came back and began to tug on his arm briefly before realizing that maybe Shadow wasn’t quite up to doing much of anything at the moment.

Rouge and Omega walked in just a moment later, their work having ended a little after Shadow’s. Upon seeing him slumped on the furniture, though, their greetings were cut short and instead replaced by worried questions.

Shadow sighed. “Spark...just spent a bunch of time cuddling with Sonic’s chao. And he noticed.”

“And that’s a good thing, hon.” Rouge shot back, having resisted a facepalm the moment she realized what all this was about.

“It is not!” the hedgehog cried out, before realizing that Spark was more than a little stressed by his tone of voice. “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry, it’s just...I already make enough of a fool of myself around him on my own. He’ll figure it out soon enough if we keep this up.”

“SO LET HIM.” Omega said. “EITHER HE STARTS DATING YOU OR HE’S AN IDIOT.”

Shadow blushed furiously. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“EXCEPT WHEN IT DOES.”

“Why don’t you tell him, hon?” Rouge asked. “I mean…” and here she developed a devious smile, “...didn’t his chao technically also act all affectionate with yours?”

The hybrid’s ears were bright green by now. “He’s nice to everyone, Rouge.”

At this point, Spark- who had left temporarily to get a pencil and paper- held up a drawing it had made of the scene at the jungle gym earlier. Shadow, of course, immediately began fussing over his chao, checking for any bruises or scrapes, but the bat in particular saw something entirely different.

“Kinda...reminds me of what happened on Space Colony ARK.” she mused. 

Shadow’s head shot up at that. “What?”

Rouge smirked, but it was bittersweet this time. “Your fall...it really hurt him too, y’know? He didn’t go out in public for a long time after that.”

“He...he never mentioned that to me…”

“He wouldn’t have!” she said. “Sonic isn’t the type to ‘bother’ others with his feelings.” Rouge explained, doing air quotes at one point.

“HE ALSO STARES AT YOU WHEN YOU ARE NOT LOOKING.”

“He what?!” By now Shadow had been reduced to just looking back and forth between his two friends. 

Spark flew in front of Shadow’s face and began to mime something. First pointing at Shadow, then a heart, then talking, then a hedgehog with all its quills pointed down…

“No! I can’t just tell him!”

“We’re hanging out with his team next week at the park- you should do it then.” Rouge replied, ignoring the last thing he’d just said.

“Did you not hear me, I can’t-”

“YOU WILL NEED SOMETHING NICE TO WEAR.” Omega said loudly over the rest of his sentence.

Spark cheered approvingly.

“So...you three have just decided for me whether or not I’m going to confess to Sonic.” Shadow sighed, beginning to resign himself to the fact.

“Absolutely, hon!” Rouge said brightly, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

He glowered at all three of them, but it lacked any real malice. “Alright, I’ll play along...for now.” he grumbled.

“EXCELLENT. LET THE PLANNING COMMENCE.”

…

One week later, Shadow was standing in the middle of a patch of grass, feeling like his knees were about to buckle as sweat trickled through his quills. He was no longer resigned to telling Sonic about his feelings and was in fact considering jumping into the nearby lake and hiding there for the duration of the hangout. His stomach- along with whatever scraps of resolve he may have had- were currently all the way back at their house.

On top of all that, he was frankly surprised he didn’t just spontaneously burst into flames when the other three Mobians showed up, Sonic in the lead.

“Hey guys!” he said excitedly. “Long time no see!”

Rouge snickered a bit at his catchphrase (it was one of many) but Shadow just felt his ears burn. He was just so cute and cheesy and already the hybrid’s mind was devolving into a mushy mess.

“Rouge, Omega.” he greeted them each, but he seemed to pause for a second on the last name. “...Shadow.”

The hedgehog in question thankfully managed a reply, and then the fun began in earnest. Knuckles and Shadow competed in several arm-wrestling matches with narration from Tails (“...aaaand Knuckles looks like he’s in the lead!”) and commentary from Omega (“YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T ARM-WRESTLE OR ELSE BOTH OF YOUR ARMS WOULD BE BROKEN.”). Rouge and Sonic were busy pranking other innocent people, though once in a while the latter would look over at the competition, distracted.

Eventually, Tails and Omega got bored- which of course meant Knuckles and Shadow had to play the role of caretaker (“No, you can’t blow up trees. No, not even for ‘science’.”) for a little while.

At one point, though, Rouge got bored with the pranks and had dragged the echidna off to a park bench and was now flirting with him enough to turn his face as red as his spines. Tails had promised to behave- which now meant that he was halfheartedly attempting to convince Omega not to modify his cannon to launch ducks from the nearby pond- leaving Sonic and Shadow to themselves. Blu and Spark had been playing in the grass all this time (since both of them had brought their chao without really realizing that the other would do the same), and Shadow had very definitely not been thinking about how lucky his chao was that emotions were easy for it.

He remembered the talk his friends had given him before this outing then and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it could be that easy. Before he could stop himself, he’d already spoken.

“...Sonic?”

“Yeah?” the hero asked, turning to face Shadow.

“I...wanted to talk to you about something.” he said, regretting everything already because look how stupid he was about to seem...yet Shadow Robotnik the Hedgehog had never been one to do things by halves.

“Oh, really?” Sonic said, and now he almost looked relieved, for some reason. “I, uh, was actually hoping to do the same. That’s cool, what is it?”

“No, no, you go first.” Shadow urged him, hoping that he’d take the offer.

Unfortunately, today was not his lucky day. “No, man, you asked first! Go ahead, what was it?”

“Really- it’s fine.”

“No, you had something you wanted to say!” Sonic insisted.

“It’s okay, I swear-”

“Well, I guess-”

“I mean, if you want-”

“Okay-”

“You see-”

“I like you!”

Both hedgehogs shouted the words at the exact same time, before freezing and staring at each other.

“Wait…” Shadow began.

Sonic’s eyes were wide. “You like me back?!?” he gasped, hands flying up to his mouth.

“...yes.” he admitted, looking off to the side in embarrassment. Then it hit him. “Wait. You like me back?”

“Of course! How could I not?” Sonic asked incredulously. “You’re smart, funny, nice-” He’d begun listing off attributes while counting on his fingers, but cut himself off upon noticing Shadow’s confusion.

“Yes, but you’re a hero. The world’s hero.” Shadow began to frown, staring at the grass. “Why would you settle for someone like-”

“No.” Sonic growled, and the hybrid looked up suddenly to see his face twisted in anger. “Don’t ever say that.”

“But everyone thinks it…” Shadow protested weakly.

“Yeah, well, ‘everyone’ isn’t part of my love life.” Sonic assumed a slightly less aggressive stance, placing a hand on his hip. “Whoever’s been telling you that can either leave you alone or get their face introduced to my sneakers.”

Shadow blushed. “Nobody needed to. I just assumed...but perhaps I shouldn’t have.” he added quickly, seeing the hero begin to glower again. 

“That’s right!” he said, zipping over to stand directly in front of Shadow. “No assumptions here- talk to me from now on if something’s worryin’ you, ‘kay?”

Then, he seemed to notice the sudden stiffness in the hybrid’s posture, as well as the green flush slowly creeping up his ears. Sonic leaned forward with a smirk, resting his forearm on Shadow’s shoulder. “Thinkin’ about something?”

Shadow gulped.

For once, he decided that he could do what he wanted. So, he slowly reached up a hand and touched the peach fur on Sonic’s arm gently, like it was the most delicate thing in the world. 

Rather more quickly, Sonic turned a shade of bright red to rival Omega’s paint job.

“So, uh…” he began, his voice shaky. “Erm...do ya feel like sitting under that tree? Together?”

Shadow agreed, and the two walked over to the shady patch, sitting down and resting against each other. Soon enough, though, Sonic turned to face Shadow, a little nervous. “Do we, like, need to talk about this? Figure out...what to do about…us?” He started turning pink again.

“Maybe later. We have a lot of time, after all.” Shadow said, trying to contain the soaring feeling inside when Sonic said ‘us’- until he realized that he didn’t have to any longer.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“You. And me. Together.” Shadow said simply, making Sonic laugh and snuggle up against him, resting his head on a black-furred shoulder.

“Wow. That’s, uh….that’s new. I really like it though.”

Then, the hero looked up at him. “I really like you, too.”

At this point, a loud whistle could be heard from Rouge, who was standing not too far off and had likely heard a lot of what they’d said. Sonic just giggled, while Shadow shot her a death glare. She just winked and mouthed I’ll keep them occupied, at which point the hybrid tried not to show how very much he appreciated that and failed miserably.

And Sonic was purring now. Which of course meant that every single brain cell in Shadow’s head was promptly dead for the next five minutes.

After he’d recovered from that, Shadow wrapped his arms tightly around his...boyfriend? Maybe? He thought for a moment. “Hey, Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel about being my-” Shadow paused briefly to cough, trying to get the words out- “-boyfriend?”

“I think I like that a lot.”

Shadow smiled warmly, feeling the beginnings of a purr rise up in his own chest.

“I like that a lot, too. Almost as much as I like you.”

[tennessoui]

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

[padawanlost]

Something I've noticed recently over the past few months is this trend where people have been diagnosing Anakin with narcissistic personality disorder instead of C-PTSD or BPD, the more commonly seen diagnoses. I personally disagree, but I wanted to hear your "two sense" on the matter if you will, you're one of the best meta-writers on this site.

It’s because people don’t like Anakin as presented on screen. They want Anakin to be as selfish and arrogant as possible so they can blame him from everything that happened. If it’s ALL about Anakin than everyone else can be left off the hook. 

Anakin ‘I don’t want to be a problem’ Skywalker is clearly narcissistic. I mean, he fits all the signs:

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“You would forgo your destiny for Padmé?” Anakin’s brows beetled in anger. “I never claimed to be the Chosen One. That was Qui-Gon. Even the Council doesn’t believe it anymore, so why should you?” [ James Luceno. Labyrinth of Evil]

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Anakin bumped his hand against [Obi-wan]. “Wait. Just—wait.” Embarrassed, he took a deep breath. “Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just—it’s the mission, right? That’s what matters. So—”  “Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s whisper sounded amused. “It’s fine. I was about to suggest it myself when the droids turned up.”  “You were?”  “Play to your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. That’s how a battle is won. That’s how we’ll win the war.”  Anakin had to smile. I should’ve known he wouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah. So—once I’m up and over and nobody raises the alarm, give me a five-count then follow. I’ll give you the best Force boost I can. Not that you’ll need much. Your leap was only a meter and a half behind Master Windu’s. Remember?”  Obi-Wan gave a breathy chuckle. “I remember I had nosebleeds for a week afterward. Don’t ever feel bad for being extraordinary, Anakin. Now off you go. We don’t have all night.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want

“He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.” [Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith]

Exaggerate achievements and talents

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden, ending up with Qui-Gon Jinn and then Kenobi because nobody else would have him. His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them. I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”? Karen Traviss’s The Clone Wars

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

It’s not just Skywalker’s rank that makes us give him one hundred percent. It’s because he treats us with respect, and he puts himself on the line with us.” [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Having worked their way around the village, finding nothing to wake their uneasily sleeping sense of alarm, Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the beaten-dirt square and the charter house. Its doors were open now and a woman who had to be Teeba Brandeh stood on the broad step, hands on her narrow hips, watching the children scatter across the square to play a proper game of kickball. Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own. Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.” Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.”  May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—” Anakin’s amusement vanished.  “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw.  ”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” [Anakin] caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. Then, abruptly, she felt mortified. What was she doing? Weeping like a child all over a man young enough to be her son? Where was her pride? She shifted away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth 

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn.  [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

[Anakin] had worried that Obi-Wan did not have room for him in his heart. But Shmi’s smile rose in Anakin’s mind. Hearts have infinite room, my son. JUDE WATSON’S THE TRAIL OF THE JEDI

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

The fear and dread in her face eased, just a little. “You’re a very sweet young man, Anakin Skywalker.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] humbles me, sometimes. He makes me feel small. He can’t see a broken thing without wanting to fix it. [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

“I’m not giving him to you,” [Anakin]’d told her. “He’s not even really mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I’m a Jedi. I have renounced possessions. I guess that means he’s free now. What I’m really doing is asking you to look after him for me.”  “Look after him?”  “Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He’s a little fussy,” he’d admitted, “and maybe I shouldn’t have given him quite so much self-consciousness—he’s a worrier—but he’s very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat … like, say, a Senator from Naboo?”Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 6 <3. This one takes place IMMEDIATELY after part 5, so I’d recommend reading that one first if u haven’t or else it’s kind of nonsense. Another non episode exploratory bit babey.

~*~

The second that Martin stops the recording, they move in tandem. They remove their headphones, lean back in their chair, and let out something that’s more of a sigh than a word. “Fuck.”

Jon scrubs a hand over his face, while Martin simply stares at the message containing the shoutout. The following silence hangs in the air with a density that makes breathing feel like more effort than it's worth. When the atmosphere makes the transition from 'cloying' to 'actively suffocating', Martin blinks himself out of his trance and asks, "Did you...did you ever look them up? I mean, not when we we first got Here, obviously, but, after?"

Considering his answer, Jon twists his wedding ring back and forth. As far as nervous ticks go, it's by far Martin's favorite, because of the involvement of the aforementioned wedding ring. He'd, however, prefer that Jon wasn't nervous, and hopes that whatever nerves are present are more due to the inaccurate but nonetheless present feeling that they've been contacted by a dead man rather than because he's reading anything accusatory in Martin's question. Instead of answering, Jon asks, "Did you?" which means yes, but he's trying to gauge the direction of this conversation.

Trying to be reassuring despite the fact that he's currently, to put it lightly, considerably freaked out right now, Martin shakes his head. "No. Not for, um, lack of curiosity. I looked for us, first, and when I couldn't find anything, I just sort of assumed that..that none of them were out there either."

"Hmm. There is a logic to that line of thinking."

Martin lets out a weak laugh, and clasps his hands together to stop the shaking he now notices. "Thanks, love, but I think it was more avoidance than logic. That first year we were here was, uh, tumultuous? I think I would've done something, er, inadvisable if I had found any of the other online."

Sucking his teeth, Jon tells him, "I nearly sent out what would've been very confusing emails myself, but other than a quick perusal of public social media accounts years ago, I haven't interacted with any of them."

"Until now."

"Yes. Until now."

They both glance at the shout out, pixels seeming to burn into the screen, before glancing away. Martin opens and closes his mouth a few times before getting out, "Would you be willing to tell me? About- about what you found?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's gonna bother me now, and I'd rather hear it from you than from facebook or, or whatever."

"Basic rundown from about 3 and half years ago? Tim, as you saw, is still at the publishing house. At the time, Danny had taken up pottery, though has likely moved on from that interest since. Sasha is a cyber security expert and had adopted some ferrets recently. Melanie and Georgie still cohost What the Ghost as a youtube show, though it's significantly lighter in tone than Ghost Hunt Uk ever was. Basira, unfortunately, still works for the police, and I couldn't find an Alice or Daisy Tonner on social media that matched ours. Elias Bouchard, presumably not taken over by a certain dead bastard-"

"-rip in piss, you stupid fuck-"

"-may his memory be scorched from the earth and as insignificant as the worm he was, is the head of some prep school. Not a thrilling indictment for the next generation of Britain, but also not something I felt any particular need to get involved in. Did that, um, help things?"

"I..think so? I..it was easier, to act as if none of them were in this reality, but I can't really do that anymore, huh? So, yeah, it's nice..it's nice to know those basics. Raises a few..general existential questions that I don't want to get into right now, maybe, but. Yeah. Okay."

Grabbing one of Martin's hands and kissing the knuckles, Jon replies an infinitely soft, "Okay."

After delivering a deeply besotted smile, Martin adds on, "Still don't know what the hell to do about Tim messaging us."

With a sigh, Jon tells him, "I don't think we do anything. It's just a nice show of support from a fan who happens to resemble someone we miss. Good lord, could you imagine? You send a bit of money to some podcasters you do not know, and they respond by telling you they're so glad you're alive, and also, how's your mental health, and do you have a personal vendetta against clowns, because they're concerned. Utterly ridiculous. Plus..plus no one deserves to be looked at as a ghost, which..is probably the only thing we'd be able to see him as."

Martin blows air through his lips and concedes. "Christ. That sucks. You're right, but it sucks."

A beat passes, then Martin adds, "We're never doing liveshows."

Jon lets out a sharp bark of a laugh that helps re-establish the jovial mindset they try to record with. "Hard agree. Back to the episode?"

"Back to the episode."

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Okay but like I feel like Diego is the kind of person to flirt with really bad pick-up lines and Klaus is just Not Having It

featuring: Diego being a flustered Mama's boy and Klaus being a disaster dumbass and the two of them being completely in love with each other anyway

DISCLAIMER: None of the pick-up lines are mine, but the responses and ensuing shenanigans are :)

(there's fifty of these so buckle up kids :) sorry not sorry <3)

seriously though some of these are really bad

#1: He A Snack

Diego: Baby, you belong in the vending machine because you’re a snack.

Klaus: Diego you know I’m claustrophobic.

Diego: Don’t you mean Klaus-trophobic??? *finger guns*

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I want a divorce.

#2: I’m From Hell

Diego: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Klaus: I’m a veteran addict and abuse victim who can see ghosts, Diego.

Klaus: Everything hurts.

#3: Animal Puns

Diego: *points to TV screen playing the Discovery Channel* Hey Klaus.

Diego: You’re my otter half.

Klaus: Diego those are meerkats.

#4: Stars

Diego: The stars are beautiful tonight.

Klaus: Yup.

Diego: You know who else is beautiful?

Klaus: Ben.

#5: Get Out Your Handcuffs Mister

Diego: You’re under arrest… for stealing my heart.

Klaus: Diego you got kicked out of the police academy like five years ago, just give up.

#6: Bad Boys

Diego: *leaning against the doorframe like a moron* So. I hear you like bad boys.

Klaus: Diego you cried because you accidentally stepped on a bee last week.

Diego: Well yeah but -

Klaus: You held a funeral for it. You made us all speak. You had Allison fly in from California. It was a fucking bee, Diego.

Diego: … I wear leather?

Klaus: So does every other kid who shops at Hot Topic. You’re not special.

#7: Prince Charming

Diego: Your knight in shining armor is here -

Klaus: One, that’s a turtleneck, not armor.

Klaus: Two, you’re covered in blood. That’s the opposite of shiny.

Klaus: Three, you smell like dead fish. Go take a shower.

#8: Chemistry

Diego: Did we have a class together? Because I could’ve sworn we had -

Klaus: Chemistry? Yup. Also English and math and foreign languages and history and like every other fucking thing because we grew up in the same sadistic boarding school, Diego.

#9: The Store Can’t Just Give Away Things For Free. That’s A Terrible Way To Run A Business.

Diego: I like your pants.

Klaus: Thanks. I got them out of a dumpster. And yes, you can have them 100% off.

Diego: *voice cracks* Really?

Klaus: No.

#10: Boyfriend Material

Diego: My jeans are made of -

Klaus: You’re wearing leather pants Diego.

Diego: Okay but -

Klaus: So they’re made of leather and they’re not fucking jeans.

#11: Digits

Diego: I lost my phone number. Can I have -

Klaus: None of us have phones, Diego.

Diego: I can… buy us some?

Klaus: Fine. I want my number to be 1-420-420-4201.

Diego: Baby no.

Klaus: *pulling out the puppy dog eyes* Pwetty pwease?

Diego: Fine, but mine’s gonna be 1-696-969-6969.

Klaus: I love you so much. Marry me. Have my babies.

#12: Love At First Sight

Diego: Do you believe in love at first sight or -

Klaus: If I did I’d have already fallen in love with a lot of hot ghosts.

Diego: - should I walk by again?

Klaus: You’ve been pacing for the past ten minutes, Gogo. I think if it was gonna happen it would’ve by now.

#13: You Have Fine Written All Over You

Diego: Are you a parking ticket? Cause -

Klaus: Diego I can’t drive.

#14: His Eyes Are Green Not Blue You Dipshit

Diego: Your eyes are an ocean, and I’m lost at sea.

Klaus: ... can’t you, like, hold your breath forever?

Diego: *blinks* Baby, I love you, but you’re ruining this with our childhood trauma.

Klaus: Well since you’ve refused therapy I just thought this was the next best option.

Diego: I take back what I said about loving you.

#15: Math Is Dumb And I Wish School Would Stop Teaching It

Diego: Are you a forty-five degree angle?

Klaus: Actually, because humans have non-linear body shapes, it’s impossible for their specific angles to be measured -

Diego: Are you high or have you been defiling Five’s books again?

Klaus: *blinks* Why can’t it be both?

Diego: *rethinking life decisions*

#16: Baby I’m All Yours

Diego: Do you have a name?

Klaus: Klaus.

Diego: Or can I call you mine?

Klaus: I mean I prefer “baby”, but sure.

Diego: *super wide eyes* Really?

Klaus: *melts into a puddle of glitter* Yeah, Gogo.

#17: (Not) Bookworms

Diego: Thank god I brought my library card. Cause I’m here to check you out.

Klaus: *through a mouthful of waffles* God isn’t real. We all die and rot beneath the earth to be eaten by maggots. There is no such thing as a higher power.

Klaus: *swallows waffles and takes a really loud slurp of an orange juice and chocolate milk combo*

Klaus: Oh, and the library’s closed for renovations til, like, Christmas so you’re outta luck, sorry.

Diego: I thought you met god? Little girl on a bicycle?

Klaus: Her? Nah, only Satan’s got that much sass. Plus, that wasn’t heaven.

Diego: And you know this how?

Klaus: *squishes Diego’s face with both hands* Think about it. Do you really think dear ol’ dad’s in heaven?

Diego: Can you let of my face please?

#18: Bad Move, Buddy

Diego: Are you a pre-historic fossil? Cause you’re my missing link.

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you just call me old?

Diego, backing out of the room slowly: What? No! No of course not! No, obviously no, absolutely not -

Klaus: *releases savage war cry*

Diego: *runs for his goddamn life*

#19: I Rate This 0/10

Diego: Are you from Tennessee? Cause you’re the only -

Klaus: I don’t know where I’m from. I’m an orphan.

Diego: Oh… I know, baby -

Klaus: And the piece of shit that adopted me lived in New York anyway. We’re in New York right now actually. Do you need a geography lesson? I think Pogo’s got a map -

Diego: Klaus.

#20: Oh Shit

Diego: If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: *tears up* I’m nothing?

Diego: Oh no. No no no. No, baby, you’re not nothing, don’t cry, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby - oh my god please don’t cry -

#21: You’ve Got Everything I’m Searching For

Diego: Is your name Google? Because -

Klaus: Diego. For the last time…

Klaus: My name is Kimberly Linda Aerealia Ulysses Saffron Hargreeves the Twenty-Fourth. I don’t know why I need to keep explaining this to you -

Diego, kissing him quiet: You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?

#22: Don’t Make Bets You’ll Lose, Luther.

Diego: Luther bet me a hundred bucks I couldn’t talk to the prettiest person here. How do you wanna spend his money?

Klaus: Drugs.

Diego: Baby -

Klaus: *beams* Nah, I’m just kidding. Stuffed giraffes.

Diego: *grins* For Five?

Klaus: *nods* For Five.

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego: He’ll hate them.

Klaus: Exactly. Let’s go.

#23: Deja Vu

Diego: Have we met before?

Klaus: Yes. Obviously. Are you also high?

Diego: No -

Diego: Wait, you’re high?

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: No?

#24: Such An Optimist

Diego: Are you a time traveller?

Klaus: No, that’s Five.

Diego: Cause I think you’re my future!

Klaus: *stares blankly*

Diego: No? Nothing? Nada?

Klaus: In the future we’re all dead dipshit.

Klaus: Because. Ya know.

Klaus: THERE’S A FUCKING APOCALYPSE COMING.

Diego:

Diego: Okay then.

#25: Please Go To The Hospital.

Diego: Are you my appendix? Cause my stomach’s fluttering and I think I should take you out.

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you drink water from the fish tank again?

Diego: *turning green* Luther dared me to okay???!!!!

#26: Suicidal Tendencies

Diego: Hey gorgeous -

Klaus: Let me guess. I should drop dead?

Diego: What?! No! Baby -

#27: Infinitely On The Naughty List (And Not The Good Kind Of Naughty List (If There Is One I’m Asexual I Don’t Know))

Diego: Are you Santa Klaus? Cause you make all my wishes come true.

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: You have five seconds to run.

Diego: *already two streets away* Fucking shit -

#28: You Can’t Use That Every Time We Have An Argument, Tony.

Diego: Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist right?

Klaus: I mean, there’s one in the corner of our living room right now, so I guess?

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: *squeaks* You - you can see dinosaur ghosts?

Klaus: I mean, there’s a chance that thing Ben’s petting is just a super deformed ostrich, but yeah, I think so.

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: *tearing up* That’s so cool.

#29: A Whole New Kind Of Thirst Trap

Diego: I’m thirsty. But guess whose body is 75% water?

Diego: *smirks*

Klaus: *frowns*

Klaus: Hold on, I know this one…

Diego: Klaus -

Klaus: *snaps fingers* Oh, I know! Luther!

Diego: *horrified* What the fuck Klaus why the fuck would you say that -

#30: What A Tragedy

Diego: You must be a campfire. Because you’re super hot and I want s’more.

Klaus:

Klaus: Diego sweetheart, you’re allergic to marshmallows.

Diego: *tearing up* I know.

Klaus: You wanna hug, baby?

Diego: *crying* Yes please.

#31: That Can’t Be Allowed

Diego: Don’t tell me if you want me to take you out to dinner. Just smile for yes, or do a backflip/somersault/counter-spin gymnastics combination for no.

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: *does a triple flip and lands perfectly on the top of the bar counter*

Diego: *turns bright red* That was h-h-hot.

Klaus: *beams and jumps down into Diego’s arms bridal-style*

Klaus: *kisses his cheek* I know, baby.

#32: Merry Christmas

Diego: You’re the reason Santa started the Naughty List.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: *pouts*

Klaus: No fair! He told me last week I was on the Nice List!

Diego: What? Klaus? What does that -

Diego: OH MY GOD KLAUS IS SANTA DEAD???!!!!

#33: I’ll Keep You Safe, Honey.

Diego: I lost my teddy bear. Will you sleep with me instead?

Klaus: *pulls out a stuffed tiger*

Klaus: He got lost in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I rescued him for you.

Diego: *takes soft tiger*

Diego: *voice cracks* Oh. Thanks.

Klaus: *kisses his forehead* You’re welcome, baby.

#34: Excuse Me?

Diego: The only thing your eyes haven’t told me is your name.

Klaus, internally: Shit. What if he finds out I stole like five of his knives and all of the cookies last week?

Klaus, externally: *blinks*

Klaus: Um… Stefonopolis?

#35: I Am Not Apologizing For This One

Diego: If you were a steak, you’d be well done.

Klaus: But I’m so unique…

Klaus: I talk to the dead, Diego.

Diego: Okay…?

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: So wouldn’t I be medium rare?

Ben: Ooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#36: Leonardo Da Vinci Was Arrested Multiple Times For Homosexual Activity.

Diego: Is this a museum? Cause you’re a work of art.

Klaus: *dancing to the soundtrack of High School Musical 3* Actually Five took me back to Italy once. Leonardo da Vinci and I had some fun.

Diego:

Diego: Oh my god. Seriously?

Diego: *looks up picture of Mona Lisa, now titled Mona Klausa*

Diego: How the fuck -

#37: Why Would You Say That Though

Diego: Am I sleepwalking? Cause I’ve only seen you in my dreams.

Klaus: *sitting on the counter and eating a donut in one bite* Are they dirty?

Luther: *chokes on a pickle*

Diego: Oh my god no -

Diego: Well sometimes -

Diego: I mean no of course not -

Luther: *praying to whoever’s up there to just kill him already*

#38: Be Safe Kids!

Diego: Can you hold this for me?

Klaus: Sweetie, you need to wash your hands.

#39: Apocalypse Averted!

Diego: If looks could kill, you’d be a weapon of mass destruction.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I thought that was Vanya.

Diego:

Diego, panicking: Holy shit Klaus you can’t just say things like that -

Vanya: *crying from laughter*

#40: Attractive

Diego: Do you swallow magnets? Because you’re -

Klaus: *shoves him up against the wall*

Klaus: How did you find out? Who told you? Was it Ben? I swear to god I’ll kill him -

Diego: *squeaks* What?

#41: First You’ve Gotta Propose Diego

Diego: Wouldn’t we look cute on a wedding cake together?

Klaus: Diego. Did you buy me a cake?

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: I’m waiting.

Diego: Right sir yes sir right away sir -

#42: He May Not Be A Kitten But He Is As Soft As One

Diego: If I followed you home, would you keep me?

Klaus: I’m homeless, Diego.

Diego: What? You are? Oh no, baby - you can come stay with me?

Klaus: *looks up from Disney Princess coloring book and raises an eyebrow* Is your bed available?

Diego, blushing: Ye-yeah, b-ba-baby. Whe-whenever you-u w-want.

Klaus: *smiles*

Klaus: *takes Diego’s hand*

Klaus: Okay.

Diego: *dies a little bit inside (in a good way)*

#43: It’s Just You.

Diego: Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Klaus, blushing: I -

Five: DIEGO. THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

#44: ‘Scuse Me, Mate?

Diego: You know, penguins mate for life. Wanna be my penguin?

Klaus: Eh. I’ve always been more of an iguana man.

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: What?

#45: You Look Like… Antonio Banderas With The Long Hair.

Diego: How’s the most beautiful person in the world doing today?

Klaus: *buried in a Vogue magazine* I don’t know I’m not Antonio Banderas.

#46: What The Fuck Klaus

Diego: Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.

Klaus: *hands him a Candyland board* Here. I stole it from Pogo.

#47: You Dumbass

Diego: I hate my last name. Can I borrow yours?

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: We have the same last name, Diego.

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: Fuck you’re right -

#48: Okay But Diego Would Make A Great Aladdin Though

Diego: I’m not a genie, but I can still make your dreams come true.

Klaus: *wrinkles his nose*

Klaus: You can get me a pink elephant with jaundice?

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: What the fuck Klaus -

#49: HELLO

Diego: Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?

Klaus: I don’t just have random knives on me Diego, I’m not you.

Diego: So you are happy to see me?

Klaus: I mean you just interrupted a very riveting episode of Sesame Street, so… we’ll see.

#50: It’s Always Best To Start With The Truth.

Diego: I love you.

Klaus: *beams* That’s all you had to say, darling.

[shelby-love]

HARGREEVES SIBLINGS

What Brings us Together: Funerals

Requested: yes [x]

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Word count: 3.5K

Author’s note: I hope this is what you wanted. You didn't specify what kind of interaction we should have w our siblings so I just went off what was most realistic. Luther is a b of course, that's just how he is at the beginning lol. Don’t think I hate him though! p.s. so is diego we know he wasn’t really nice to vanya in the beginning :(

~

You sighed heavily through your nose, gathering your brows in distaste at the building standing tall in front of you. The Umbrella Academy looks as imposing as ever, making you remember just how much it once scared you when you were a kid.

Time went by and you became an adult. Someone with common sense, living an ordinary life far away from your once bright future that suggested money and luxury. Of course, when you’re informed of your father’s passing through a TV screen, it’s mandatory to show up and pay your respects.

You snorted at the rogue thought. “Bastard.”

Seeing your siblings after so many years of being apart made you feel anxious. Your father and his ashes weren’t the cause of your sweaty hands. It felt weird. Too weird.

But you ignored the feeling and called out your inner adult, placing one foot in front of the other and walking straight through the two-winged doors.  

Your eyes fell on every surface of the academy, sweeping over every object while doing so. The number of memories, good and bad, that this place held was uncountable. But life, alas, is too short.

Your father a true example.

You gazed at the portrait with no emotion, looking at the picture of your father and siblings with a crooked smile of sadness. The tips of your bare fingers flickered with energy, and you fought the urge to curl them into a fist and punch a wall.

But your father's voice rung through your head, what you've been taught all your life bucking into instinctive actions. "You must know self-control Number Eight. You lack of it will be your downfall. Now put your gloves back on!"

You were 4 when those words big words started to leave his mouth, and you never heard the end of it. Not until he died.

You uncurled your fists, took a deep breath and felt the energy cave in.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

The sudden sweetness of a voice that belonged to your sister travelled into your ears, so quietly you almost didn't hear her. Your eyes widened slightly, and when you turned around – for a moment you didn't know what to do. The girl had turned into a celebrity, and you wondered if that had changed her in any way.

"Allison?"

She took a few sharp steps your way and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug you returned immediately.

"You're not wearing your gloves," she took note, looking tentative to touch you for a second after pulling away.

"I don't need them anymore," you stated proudly.

Your father graced you with leather gloves at the age of 4, telling you to never take them off. That in a way, you and the powers you possessed were a danger to your siblings. The dark leather gloves weren't comfortable, in fact, they felt suffocating every time you wore them. Because that's how silencing your powers feels like. Suffocating. For a second too short, you had wondered what Allison felt like. Not being able to use her voice for what it was made for.

"Well, I'm happy for you," said Allison, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You never really liked them."

"No," you agreed with a mumble. "No, I didn't."

The two of you walked out of the hall and into the living area, legs paired with pace.

"Where is everyone?" You asked her quietly, your eyes inspecting an antique you knocked over as a kid more times than you could count.

"Diego is here, somewhere," she mused, and you raised your brows ever so slightly in surprise. "He has this weird hero complex, so he's out saving the world, I guess. Apart from us three, no one’s here yet."

"Do you know when he'll be coming back?" You wondered out loud, watching her give you an odd look a second later. "I haven't seen him in years, Allison. He's my brother."

A part of you wanted to tease her about Luther by saying that not everyone is into what they were, but you withheld it and instead locked your eyes onto your other brother.

Number Five.

"I missed you Y/N."

You smiled at her quiet voice, "Missed you too Ally."

***

"You know if I was murdered, and if one of my sons...adopted sons... happened to be able to commune with the dead, I might think about, I don't know, I don't know...manifesting!"

You attempted to stifle your laughter as you watched Klaus prance around your father's ashes in an attempt to talk to him. He wasn't sober, so you doubted it would work.

But it was pleasantly nice to see him try at least.

"I don't think he wants to talk," you interrupted him mid-vent.

You watched as his pacing stopped, his demeanor switching from crazy to collected in the seconds it took your voice to be heard. Klaus turned around slowly, beaming from one ear to another. "It's you! You're alive!"

His scream of joy brought a wide smile to your lips, and you rushed to his arms. Both of you screamed like little kids, telling how much you missed each other and how tragic life has been without one another. Making jokes on your dead father's account was overly present too.

"And you're high!" You squealed in delight, ruffling his crazy looking hair.

Klaus pulled away at that, swaying in a matter that looked like he was stretching before a run. He pointed his thumb at the ashes, "Dad's too stubborn. He won't talk to me."

"Did you try begging?" You asked amused.

"I-I guess…" He mumbled before groaning. "I'm too sober for this!"

Then his eyes snapped to you and a pout drew on his face. Klaus went to stand in front of you, grabbing your hands in his and placing them on his chest. "Y/N…"

You rolled your eyes but didn't remove them, "Yes, Klaus?"

"I was just wondering if you," He said gingerly. "You know…"

This time you did pull your hands away but placed them on his face. Teasingly you squished his cheeks like you used to when you were kids. "You want me to give you money, so you can go get high because your childhood trauma of being locked in a mausoleum catches up to you every time you're sober? Of course, I will. How much do you need?"

It took him a second to process your words. "Oh my God really?" Klaus whispered, almost as if he didn't believe that was happening.

"I tried it your way when I left -" you explained, pulling out your wallet and glancing at his stunned expression. "- to suppress my powers. It didn't work, and I continued to suffer. If that's what it takes for you to not suffer from them, I'll gladly help."

You handed him a wad of money but when he tried to take them you pulled away, "Just…be careful Klaus."

"Yeah of course I will," he replied absentmindedly before he turned his head to the side. "Shut up."

You furrowed your brows, "Did you say something Klaus?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," said Klaus quickly, a little too quickly. "I didn't say anything."

You hummed but swore you had caught him swing his leg at something too.

"Well, if that’s all…" you murmured, "I'll leave you to it then, I gotta go see Mom. Don't say hi to dad from me, okay? Don't you dare Klaus."

The sibling only saluted, turning around to get back to trying to reach your dad, securing the money into a pocket in his skirt.

"Hey! Wait!"

You stopped and turned back around. Klaus waved his hands at the big lone fireplace. "Can you do that thing, please?"

By that thing, he meant to say start the fire. You shrugged and walked back to the fireplace. The amount of time you lit it up for your siblings was infinite. It felt weird to do it now even though you light your fire at home with your powers all the time.

Fire comes out of your hands quickly and with ease in the shape of a golden ball, igniting the lone fireplace within seconds. You watched the inferno you created in a daze, only breaking out of it when Klaus came to stand in front of the fire to warm up.

"Love you Klaus."

"Awww I love you too sis."

You shook your head, turned and left the room.

***

"Heard you came from the moon." You mused, "Thought I'd stop by and see for myself."

When word spread that Luther was on the moon, you didn't quite believe it. Then you found out that he too came back to send your father off to the lands of the dead, and you just had to see him and ask for yourself.

It was no surprise to find him in your dad's office of all places, although at first glance he did look like an intruder. You felt yourself stiffen at the sight of a big man in a coat, looming over your father's desk imposingly. Power surged through your veins, and it took everything in you to stop it from overflowing in fear.

When your brother met your face, you exhaled in relief and a single candle lit in the room as a result.

Luther seized it, looking impressed. "You've gotten better."

"Cut the crap Number One," you snapped suddenly, the tone mainly coming from the fact that your powers activated because of the fear that came from seeing a completely new version of your brother. "First of all, what happened to you? I thought Diego would turn out like that, not you."

He shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Second of all," you began. "What are you doing in dad's office?"

"Nothing," he said quickly.

Luther might look big and dangerous but the creases in his face give you all the answers you need. "You haven't changed a bit," you mused, leaning against the door. A part of you still felt young and that made you respect your father's words a little more by staying put. "Save for the…" You pointed to your torso for reference.

Luther noticed the way you eerily stood at the doorstep, contemplating whether to enter and break his word. "He's dead you know."

You shot him a look, "I know that."

"So, why don't you come in?"

You contemplated to come in, but in all honesty - nothing was of interest. You would much rather like to interrogate Luther and his whims. 

"Is Allison really the only person you care about?" You asked him instead, the bubbled feelings you've been holding inside threatening to spill. It was rather hostile, the way you two met after years of not seeing each other. A big part of you felt angry at him for not calling you when things obviously went wrong somewhere. His body wasn’t a result of something natural, and you knew it. "I mean this as a sibling. Let's ignore the weird thing you two have for each other."

"We don-" he started, your seizing eyes stopping him mid-sentence. "Is it that obvious?"

You sighed, "Look Luther, I'm just trying to say…"

"No, you're accusing me."

"Of what?"

"You left. All of you."

You snorted, "You really want to do this right now?"

"I don't see why not."

"You're looking for something," you said instead, completely ignoring his words. "I won't help you find it nor will I try to lie if you ask me if I have it."

His ears perked, "Dad's monocle."

You chuckled, "That lame thing he always wore?"

Luther nodded.

"Why do you need it?"

"You said you wouldn't lie."

"I'm not lying Luther, I just asked you a question!" You told him. A thought washed over you when his eyes pinned you in, and you could barely even grasp it. "You think I killed him, don't you?"

"I didn't say that." He tried to reason, although he didn't move from around the desk to try and soothe you.

"You didn't have to," you said quietly, feeling tears gather in your eyes. "I see the way you look at me, brother. Ever since I hurt her-"

"Don't talk about her," he stopped you.

"Why the hell not?!" You exclaimed, "She's my sister you know. Our sister. You keep forgetting that."  

Luther stayed silent after your outburst, probably contemplating whether to apologize, but you cut him from speaking before he could even start. "We were 7 Luther. I didn't know what I was doing. You think I wanted to take the air out of her lungs? She was going to rumor me Luther. I was scared."

It didn't really matter how much you repeated it to him, he never understood. His love for her goes beyond siblingship, as weird and disturbing as it was. Whoever hurt Allison became a monster in his eyes. "But anyway. I didn't steal that ugly thing. You can cross me off your list."

You looked around the office, ignoring the way Luther stood silently. The lack of light was obviously making it difficult for him to sniff around. You raised your hands in the air, watching as the tips of your fingers turned into flames. A satisfying sight, but a sight you didn't want to look at currently. With a swipe of your hand, you controlled the small blazes until they broke apart and landed at the candles, lighting up the room, so Luther can see. "Hopefully this helps."

You walked away from the office after that, not daring to look behind yourself in fear of breaking down.

***

You stomped across the academy, anger flowing off you in waves. Having your emotions tied to your feelings was never fun. The chandelier above you swayed under the wind that came from your anger and candles burnt out, the fire that came within them disappearing into your body.

"Y/N?"

Suddenly, the wind stopped, but your lip started to tremble instead. "Vanya?"

When you turned around, she stood awkwardly at the door. With hands in her pockets she glanced between the shaking chandelier and you.

It was obvious that she was uncomfortable, at least until she saw your relieved smile. "Is that really you?"

She smiled, "I-I guess."

You outright laughed, the outcome of Luther and yours argument disappearing from your mind completely when you hugged her. "I missed you so much."

"You did?" She asked surprised.

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked her, confusion crossing your features. "You're my sister. Come here."

You brought her into the hug again, feeling her hug you tighter this time.

"You're not mad at me?"

Remembering what she was talking about had you cringing ever so slightly in discomfort. You scratched the back of your neck, "I mean… I was. But not anymore, Vanya. I'm all passed that now."

"You are?" She asked, hopeful.

"I am," you nodded in confirmation. "We're here to say our goodbyes to Dad. You have every right to be here, no one can tell you otherwise."

Vanya stayed silent, so you quickly added, "And the book was good. Exposing, but good. I like your way with words."

She snorted, "Yeah I thought you would."

Beaming, you slung an arm around her shoulders just like Allison did when you first came. Unfortunately, in your dysfunctional family, no one has peace for long. Diego came striding down the stairs in his black spandex suit, looking as he just came out of an action movie.

Seeing you had his smile growing by a mile, but upon glancing at Vanya the easy smile vanished and was instead replaced by a scowl. "You're still here? I thought I already told you. You don't belong –"

"Diego," your hand raised in the air to halt his mouth. "Now's not the time."

He let out a humorous laugh, walking up to you to give you a kiss on the cheek. You didn't fight it, instead letting him kiss your cheek and squeeze your shoulder as a greeting after not seeing each other for years. "Good to have you back sis."

"Enjoy it while you can," you said. "Because I'm leaving the moment dad's ashes are spread."

"Oh, I bet," he mused. "I'm leaving too. You should go now Vanya, save us the trouble."

"Okay Diego that's enough," you interrupted, standing closer to Vanya this time round, hoping she sees your support through mere change of standing. "Why don't you run along and go save lives? I heard that's your life's call."

He rolled his eyes before glancing at your outfit. "That's an awfully bold color for a funeral."

"That's because I'm not dressed yet," you rolled your eyes. "Now, if you don't have anything nice to say, I suggest you leave before I boil you."

Knowing you don't give out empty threats, Diego nodded grimly and disappeared upstairs, not giving Vanya a glance of acknowledgement. "You know, maybe he's right… I should just go."

You shook your head immediately, "Absolutely not. Look Vanya, your book might've not been the best thing that's happened to us, but it certainly isn't the worst. He's just being snappish. That's Diego's factory setting."

She laughed, this time giving you a smile. Not a fake smile, but a real one.

You felt victorious as you wrapped your arm around her again, leading her into the living area for a catch-up.

***

"Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?"

You and Klaus held to each other like little kids, not believing what, or who, stood in front of you. The little carbon copy of your long-lost brother swore under his breath, shocking you to the bones with the word ‘shit’. "I'm not high, am I?"

"I-I don't know," said Klaus awkwardly, "Do you feel high?"

"Klaus she's not high," Diego interrupted, standing in front of the group with Luther.

"You never know with her," Klaus tried to explain.

"Five is that really you?" You asked, ignoring the bickering that went all around you.

"Of course, it's me!"

"Oh God Klaus they even sound the same," you whispered, clutching Klaus' hand tighter.

"Look I don't have time to explain this all to you," the boy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like an old man.

"The hell you do," Diego mumbled, eyeing him with menace.

Number Five (if that was even him) rolled his eyes and tried to push through and walk right past you. No 30-year-old - despite how shocked and curious they were - tried to stop him.

Save for you of course.

A lone vine flew from the wall under your command, wrapping itself around your brother's wrist in a vice-grip. Five eyed it nonchalantly, as if the sight amused him rather than intimidated him. "You do know I can walk right through that?"

You dared him with your eyes and mocked him with your mouth, "You do know that you've been gone for 17 years? I've evolved little man."

He bunched his brows together, almost as if he didn't believe you. To test his theory out, he urged his body to travel through space. You all watched as he walked straight through the air, coming out on the other end in a different part of the yard, not being able to move due to the vine's grip despite having travelled through literal space.

"Cute!" Five called out, walking back toward you using his power. "Now let me go."

"And why would she do that?" Luther asked, the inner Number One in him surfacing.

"Because I've got work to do."

"Five you're a kid literally," Allison objected, gazing over your brother's tiny body.

"You don't understand…"

"Maybe he needs a nap," Klaus mumbled next to you.

"I don’t-"

By not literal smoke was almost coming out of his little ears, his face reddened from anger, and he looked annoyed beyond understanding. "They're too young… I knew it."

You creased your brows, not understanding why Five was mumbling weird things into his chin. "You alright Five?"

He glared at you, "I will be… Once you get this thing off me."

You shrugged with a sigh, mumbling an okay and hauling the vine away from Five who shook his head in irritation. He wrapped a hand around his sore wrist, massaging it with his thumb to get read of the soreness. "Can't say I missed you and your crazy plants. Although you would've been a great addition to my adventures."

"What adventures?" You asked confused. "You’re 13."

Five sighed, brushing you all off with a sway of his hand.

Klaus was the first one to dash back into the house mumbling something about not being able to handle the weather, Allison following behind him carefully. Luther, who looked like a lost puppy, followed after your sister until it was just Vanya, Diego, Five and you left.

"I'm going to head inside," said Vanya awkwardly, disappearing inside quickly.

Diego gave Five a sideward glance but shook his head and left too.

"Elemental manipulation is exactly what we need to fight it."

You rolled your eyes, not quite believing that he forgot how elemental manipulation isn't your favorite thing. "Fight what Five?"

"The apocalypse."

"I'm glad you're back bro, seriously I mean it," You told him sincerely, "But you're crazy. I'd say get some help but…"

MASTERLIST

~

Here is the link to my tag list masterpost! If you want to be added to one of my existing tag lists (or perhaps new ones) let me know! :) 

✭ GENERAL TAGS (all WIPs): 

@fofisstilinski @short-potato @miranda0102​ @httphiddlestan @caromichaela @xx-missunicorn-xx @jemmakates @theravenclawmarauder @tclaerh @chefdoeuvre @just-arather-veryconfused-being @crazy0lu @thirstykpophoe @abimoon @sofiasamps @princxss-fia @theletterhart 

 ✭ THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY: /

[camslightstories]

Tolerate it - Part 3

Notes: I wanted to thank all of you for the love and support, it means a lot. I don't think my writing is very good, but I been improving and I'm really glad you guys liked it. I will be updating tomorrow. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it

I added a prompt list to my page, so if you have any request you can use that for your idea, or if you have already one then its okay. I write for everything. If you have any request just tell me I will gladly write it. I receive any type of feedback, comments and request. Have a great day.

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers. 

The afternoon came around and the sunlight illuminated the house. Boxes of Christmas decorations were piled in the living room. The soft Frank Ocean music was heard in the background. The smell of chocolate occupied the house.

A few hours after you left, your mom stood in the kitchen. With the phone on her ear as she waited for your sister to pick it up. Her eyes ranked over the entrance of the house, as she remembered how weirdly you were acting. 

The hand dribbling in your thigh, the way you didn't talk more of a sentence. Your constant staring at the beach is the same thing you did without knowing as a kid when your father died. The silence as you worked putting the boxes away, was another giveaway since every time you would be doing anything you would hum a song. 

The way you awkwardly answered when she asked you about Lena, and you didn't fangirl over her as you always did, even though the two of you were in a relationship. The way your glance painfully glanced at certain places and tears would threaten to come out, as you immediately brushed off. 

She knew you enough to tell you were different, and that is why she was calling. She knew one of your sisters would obviously know something about it. The long phone rang a few times before Alex picked up.“Danvers, speaking”

“Hey sweetie, how are you? How is Maggie?” Your mom responded.

The redhead said as she smiled. After a time, their relationship grew stronger. “Hi mom, we're both good, today is our day off, and you?” 

Eliza mentioned as she took a sip of her chocolate.“That's great honey, I'm good, your sister came to visit me today”

“Yeah, Kara told me she was going to go since she needs an interview for the girl she is mentoring after New Years'. But I thought she was going on Saturday” Alex responded as she nodded to Maggie to not stop the TV.

“No honey, Y/N. She came to put some boxes away in the storage.” Your mom responded as she put her mug on the kitchen island.

“Ohh I thought she had to work on the pastries for the DEO gala tomorrow and the classes,” Alex said confused. You guys told each other everything, from you having a dumb thought to you accomplishing your dreams.

“No, she didn't mention it. She seemed different to Alex, she just didn't seem as herself” Your mom mentioned.

“What do you mean mom?”Alex said as she sat up on the couch, Maggie stopped the movie and stared in worry at her fiance.

Eliza said “Well she put at least 12 boxes away and she was just not herself, she kept staring at the ocean. And when I mention Lena she just awkwardly answered trying to avoid her”

“That's weird” Alex commented after mouthing to her fiance ‘Y/N’ after Maggie asked what was wrong.

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you if something happened. Because Alex she hasn't been like that since Jeremiah” Your mom said as she glanced outside to see where you sat.

“Nothing has happened that I know of. But I will go check on her. Don't worry okay mom? I will call you later” The redhead responded as she got up.

“Be safe, Sweetie and I love you, say hi to Maggie for me” Your mom concluded as she walked outside to see your drumsticks on the storage.

Your sister said, before ending the call, as she turned to Maggie. “I love you too, okay mom” 

Maggie stared at her fiance, as she asked “What's wrong with baby Danvers?”

“Mom said she was different, she said she was acting like when Dad died,” The redhead said with tears. You had felt in a silent depression when Jeremiah died, and it left slowly after a few years. 

She had told you when you were born she was going to protect you at all cost, and when Kara entered the Danvers family the blonde did the same. And you as the baby of the family you promised yourself you were going to protect you as they did to you, and you were going to sacrifice everything if it meant for them to be okay and happy.

Maggie knew that the bond between the three of you was strong, and she had witnessed it various of times. When Alex was kidnapped, while she and Kara were fighting you were talking to Alex the whole time, and even offer yourself to change places with the guy’s father confessing to a murder you didn't do.

Or when Kara had solar flares you were helicoptering around her, you would check out what she would eat, or where she was going, everything. And when both of them got into a Life or Death situation with Cadmus you had yelled at them until exhaustion. And cried for the next week clinging to them from waking up to sleeping.

And when you got hurt, Kara and Alex would stop everything just to comfort you. When Barry broke up with you, she, Winn, and James had to stop Kara and Alex from going to beat him up because he broke your heart as he chose Iris over you.

Maggie and Alex were walking down the street, before entering JJ’s, one of your workplaces. The redhead furrowed her eyebrows when she noticed a new girl at the counter doing her job. Maggie noticed Amelia on the register working and signaled Alex to talk directly to the manager. 

“Hey Alex, Maggie. How can I help you guys?” The brunette said as she noticed the couple.

Alex responded as she looked around “Hey Am, I'm looking for Y/N, I thought she had an afternoon shift, or is she at the school?”

“She didn't tell you?” Amelia commented surprised.

Alex recountered worried “Tell me what?”

“She was fired from the school two weeks ago since they found a ‘better fitting music teacher’ and well JJ fired her this morning after she slept in here last night” The brunette mentioned.

Maggie and Alex begin surprised and worried about the newfound information. Alex started to think about the trust and abandonment issues you had. Maggie noticed her partner going into deep thought so she decided to take over the conversation.

“Wow, that's weird. Do you know where she might be?” The Latina asked.

Amelia answered as she pointed to a jewelry store at the front of the street.“She had me put some of her checks in Mr. Rogers name, she might be there”

“Thank you, Lia, see you,” The couple said as they nodded. The brunette nodded with a smile and kept working.

The streets in National City had always been busy, cars honking up and down the road, some people would often compare it to New York. The daylight of the afternoon illuminated the streets. The cold air and breeze still accompanied people even when the sunlight was up. 

“Good afternoon, to my favorite couple,” The old man said behind the counter with a smile, as Alex and Maggie entered.

Alex responded as she smiled and hugged the man. She had his help to find the perfect ring for Maggie, and now he was making their wedding bands “Hello Mr. Rogers, good afternoon”  

“I was going to call you Danvers” The man commented. 

Alex responded with a worried glance. “Why?”

“Well, your sister paid for outrageous engagement right, and then she came by this morning saying she didn't want it anymore and that I could donate all the money to the orphanage,” He said as he reclined on the counter, Maggie and Alex sharing a look of surprise. 

“She did what?”Alex dropped her jaw in surprise, making Maggie roll her eyes as she softly hit her fiance on the shoulder. Alex came out of her shock, just to speak up almost yelling.

“Yeah a $25 thousand ring, she paid in the last 2 years” Mr. Rogers commented, making your sister and Maggie enter in shock, not being able to say anything. 

“Let me get it for you so you can see the piece of art,” The old man said as he laughed going inside the back of the store. 

“Did you know she was going to propose?”The couple looked at each other before, asking millions of questions with their glances. Maggie recuperated herself first, before speaking up. 

“No, I knew she was in love with Lena but not that she was going to propose” Alex mentioned, as she clenched her jaw. 

How could you not tell her?, What other thing were you hiding? Weren't you supposed to tell her about things like this?, Weren't you supposed to trust her with everything?

“Here it is ladies”. Mr. Rogers said as he put in the counter a black box, Breaking Alex out of her thoughts, opening it when the couple came closer. 

Both of the women stared at the silver ring. The ring was simple but sophisticated. The diamond was but between a small infinite form. Alex and Maggie exclaimed at the same time. It was small, simple, and perfect for Lena. 

“Ohh wow,” Alex said.

Maggie commented “That looks so much like Lena”

The old man said, breaking them out of shock. Giving them 5 envelopes, “Do I still give the money to the orphanage? She also left this for you”

“Yes sir, thank you, I will see you around Mr. Rogers,” Alex responded before sighing as she checked the letters, no daring to open the one with her name. There were five letters in total, with your handwriting. One for Lena, one for Maggie, one for your mom, and the other two for each of your sisters.

The man said with a wave, making the couple smiled.“Bye girls”

After a few minutes, of silence and thinking. Maggie started to think as a Detective recurring every single thing you did. “Okay let's go back and think, She was fired two weeks ago from begin a music teacher which was her primal income, she didn't tell anyone”

“Yes, then last night she slept at the bakery when she had a shared apartment with Lena, her girlfriend. And if they had fought she would have asked Kara or me to spend the night at our apartments.” Alex responded, stopping, seeing her fiance working technique.

Maggie said as pointing out each action. They knew you would often make decisions on feelings but this was out of your league. Leaving is not something you would do, your trust and abandonment issues making sure of that. “Because she slept overnight at the store, JJ fired her today, which she didn't tell anyone, then she canceled her perfect engagement ring order for Lena of 25 thousand dollars and told Mr. Rogers to give the money to the orphanage. Which was at least 2 years of her work” 

“Then she gives five letters to Mr. Rogers and asked him to give it to us and then she went to Mom's, with enough boxes to put away all of her things. Acting differently like when my dad died.” Alex said as she finished, taking a big breath, she knew something was wrong and now she didn't know what to do. She was mad at you but she was also scared of everything that has happened, and how haven't break.

“You don't think it has to do anything with Kara don't you?” Your sister said after Maggie and she shared a knowing look. Kara was also in love with Lena, her best friend. 

After 2 years of seeing you two together, the blonde had figured out. And she knew the blonde was hurting, when she saw Lena with someone else, better said with you. Alex didn't want to think about the fact that Lena somehow loves Kara too, and that if something happened you would be heartbroken, lost, and more. 

She couldn't think like that because she knew you would give up anything so that they could be happy and okay. And if you were hurting, Kara would be hurting too, knowing she hurt you. And she would have to stand at the side, as both of you were hurting because she couldn't do anything.

But why the letters? Why not a text, a call something? Why did you ask someone to give them? There was something that wasn't adding up.

The redhead was pulled out of her thoughts when her phone started to ring again, hoping it would be you. But was greeted with your sister's name on her screen. The redhead shared a look with Maggie before answering the phone.“Kar?”

The line was silent for a few seconds before the blonde blurted out. Making the redhead sighed, there it was.“Yesterday, I told Lena I love her”

[ace-trainer-risu]

what are your fave diana wynne jones books that aren’t howl’s moving castle??

Oh whattt a lovely and fun question which I was definitely not secretly hoping someone would ask!!!! Yay!!

Hm okay so, not specifically in order, probably my top fave Diana Wynne Jones books would be:

Deep Secret! Deep Secret is not just one of my favorite books by DWJ but one of my favorite books full stop! It’s so good. Basically, the premise is that there is an infinite series of interconnected worlds, some of which have magic and some of which don’t, at the center of which is a vast interdimensional magical empire. Magic in the multiverse is overseen by an organization of magicians called Magids and there must always be a specific number of Magids in existence. When Rupert, a young Magid living on Earth, discovers that his mentor has died (ish) he becomes unexpectedly responsible for finding and training the next Magid, which is extremely inconvenient timing for him because the aforementioned magical empire is on the brink of civil war and chaos and its his job to stop it. And also almost all of this takes place at...a science fiction convention. It’s amazing.  I have read this book minimum four (probably more) times and every time it’s absolutely delightful and hilarious. I would like to go to the sci fi convention in this novel more than anything. It’s such a good read and its one of her few novels which is specifically aimed at adults, so I would EXTREMELY recommend it. Plus the romance in it is extremely good...not exactly enemy-to-lovers but more like ‘annoys-the-shit-out-of-each-other’ to lovers.  (**One note about this one...there’s a few very briefly mentioned side characters who are gender noncomforming and even tho they are actually portrayed very positively, it’s not necessarily ideal and 100% respectful (basically the protags comment on them being very beautiful and nice but also keep trying to guess their “real” gender). Additionally there’s a different briefly mentioned side character who is fat who isn’t portrayed very nicely. Both of these are brief incidents, just wanted to provide a warning for them)

Dark Lord of Derkholm - Okay this one is weirdly hard to summarize but it’s about this magical fantasy world which has been taken overy and is being used as a tourist destination by a non-magical world (heavily implied to be Earth) for people who want to role play at being in a classic high fantasy story, including fighting and killing THE DARK LORD...who is really just a random magician pretending to be evil. The inhabitants of the fantasy world do not enjoy this and are trying desperately to stop the tours, but unfortunately according to a magical oracle, their best hope of stopping the tours is this year’s Dark Lord, a hapless farmer magician named Derk, and his, um, eccentric family consisting of his glamorous wife, seven children (of whom five are griffins and one is a bard) and a simply improbable amount of magical animals. And also there is a very good dragon.  I think Derkholm is so great as a novel b/c it’s a very funny, loving but sharp, parody of high fantasy stories...but a lot of the time parodies only function as parodies but not as good stories in their own right, you know? But this novel completely functions as a story too, and in fact the first time I read at maybe age nine or ten, the high fantasy parody went completely over my head...but I still loved it. I also really love that this novel is very accessible to all ages, I think I enjoy reading it as an adult just as much as I did as a kid, which is rare.  For anyone who has read Howl’s Moving Castle but nothing else by DWJ and isn’t sure where to start, I think this is a great place to start. (TW: There’s a brief, non-explicit scene which has implied sexual assault.) 

Fire and Hemlock - This may be the most controversial one since it features a romance with a significant age gap where the two characters meet when one is a child and the other an adult. And I fully agree that that’s :/ and normally that trope is NOT my thing but it doesn’t come off at all creepy in this story imo, and if you think you can deal with that then this is a very weird, atmospheric, cool book about storytelling and fairy tales and growing up. The short summary (this is another hard to summarize one) is that as a child, Polly encounters and strikes up a friendship and correspondence with a young man, Tom, which mainly consists of the two of them jointly making up a silly, ongoing fairy tale type story...but things get weird when parts of their story start to come true in real life.  I’ve only read this one twice but it really stuck with me and in fact just describing it here...really makes me want to read it again!

The Chrestomanci Series - So all of the above are either specifically aimed at adults or a general audience whereas the Chrestomanci series is aimed at children, mainly a middle grade type audience. And tbh I started reading them as a kid (fond memory - I bought an omnibus of the first two with my allowance money...b/c it had a cat on the cover!) so I don’t know what it would be like to first read these as an older teen or an adult. BUT. Honestly they are really good and would be a quick read so I do still recommend them. There’s seven overall, with th seventh being a collection of short stories, and they’re only semi-chronological so the reading order isn’t vital. My recommended order (b/c this the order I read them in, haha) is Charmed Life, The Lives of Christopher Chant, The Magicians of Caprona, Witch Week, The Pinhoe Egg, Conrad’s Fate, and then Mixed Magic you can read whenever you want so long as you read it after Charmed Life and The Magicians of Caprona.  So the very core premise of it is not dissimilar to Deep Secret - there’s an infinite series of worlds/universes and there’s a magician, called the Crestomanci in this case, who is responsible for making sure magic isn’t abused across the multiverse. The Chrestomanci is an extremely powerful enchanter who has nine lives, and the novels are various semi-connected stories about the adventures of Chrestomanci as an adult and child. Chrestomanci is a title so it’s not always the same person, but for the majority of the stories it is the same guy and he’s...the best/worst...He’s this extremely handsome, charismatic, powerful enchanter who is very good at his job, loves his wife a lot, wears very beautiful clothes and makes, um, questionable life choices and is very annoying to everyone. I’ve thought about this very hard and I believe that he’s what happens when you take a fundamentally chaotic good person and make him do a fundamentally lawful good job; yes, he’s going to do it and do it well, but he is going to do it in the most chaotic, ridiculous way possible, and he IS going to die at an ALARMING rate, doing things that would not normally kill a person, such as playing cricket and trying to catch stray cats. He also, as previously mentioned, frequently wears very dramatic silk dressing gowns with elaborate embroidery, which the protag of Charmed Life finds deeply alarming.  It’s very odd to me how these books don’t seem to be well known, because the Chrestomanci books were some of my absolute favorite books as a child. I still have my omnibus editions of the first four novels and they are very worn and very beloved. And it’s so WILD to me that I don’t think I have ever talked to someone who also read those as a kid! Like I’m not saying those people don’t exist, I’m sure I just haven’t met them, but that’s so weiiirddddd to me. If I bring up Tamora Pierce or Garth Nix or other authors of weird, eccentric children’s fantasy novels to other avid childhood consumers of fantasy, people usually know what I mean, but Chrestomanci and its just..crickets. Is it b/c she’s British? Anyway all of the Chrestomanci books are very degrees of good, but if I had to pick a favorite, I think, controversial choice here, it would be Conrad’s Fate. Particularly in terms of recommendations to others, Conrad’s Fate works as a standalone and, unlike the other books in the series, it’s aimed more at a YA audience, so if you wanted to read a Chrestomanci novel without getting into the whole series, that’s a good way to go. It’s about a boy, Conrad, who is told that he has a terrible, possibly fatal Fate awaiting him unless he goes to work as a servant at a wealthy, and weird, estate neighboring his town, at which place he encounters things including color changing livery, an extremely annoying teenage Chrestomanci, and the greatest liminal space house EVER. It’s like a combination of an upstairs/downstairs Downton Abbey type social drama with bizarre fantasy shenanigans. How could that not be good??

Also as Honorable Mentions - A Sudden and Wild Magic and The Time of the Ghost. A Sudden and Wild Magic is fun b/c it’s one of her few works aimed specifically at adults and it’s (gasp) a little bit NAUGHTY which I was very surprised and delighted by when I read it. (This may seem like an unfair statement considering that Deep Secret fully has an orgy in it, but Rupert is so fundamentally unnaughty of a character that he completely unnaughtifies the whole novel, whereas Sudden and Wild Magic embraces being a (little bit) naughty.)   The Time of the Ghost on the other hand is weird and haunting and creepy and atmospheric. I only read it once but it’s one of those novels you just think about periodically and go “wait what the fuck that was a weird novel” (Also known as the “Garth Nix” effect) 

[grimmywrites]

So, about Infinite Darkness...

I’m gonna try to be as succinct as I can (I failed) about all the problems I had with it, but my list is pretty long... Yes, this has spoilers. Let me state upfront: if you’re not a hardcore RE fan, you can skip the show. Below I’ll tell you why.

Story: What a mess. Honestly, they turned me off right at the beginning with all the military stuff. It’s the same reason people didn’t like Chris’ campaign in 6; didn’t they learn anything from that? So, the story wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, it had more plot holes than anything and so many points where I went: “I don’t care about this.” Again, it was a jumbled mess. Capcom, hire me and I’ll do better, I swear. Let’s just sum it up by saying it’s a rehash of things we’ve seen SEVERAL times in the series before. If you’re gonna do it AGAIN let’s make the story unique and interesting. Oh, there are shady people in the military that want to use bioweapons in war? Okay, we’ve known that since the first game. We’ve seen it time and time again. Look to re8′s ending for example: the BSAA are now starting to use engineered soldiers - THAT was a reveal that was far more interesting. The way it was addressed and overcome in this show was just... so lackluster. Ultimately, it just felt like this entire thing didn’t need to happen. It changed nothing, it impacted nothing, and I’m aware that it really couldn’t since it was after re4 and before re5. There was just no lasting point and all the ‘themes’ (if you can call them that) made absolutely no sense, but I guess I’ll get into that with the characters? Pacing: Absolutely god awful. One minute we’re in the White House fighting zombies then I blink and it’s over and I’m like: Oh, we’re done? Another we’re in a sub and then I blink. Oh, that’s over, too. Also, the creators must’ve taken a page from the last couple of seasons of Game of Thrones (which is an abysmal idea, don’t fucking do that) because with a few cuts here and there we went from Guam to China back to DC. Guess everybody learned how to teleport so they got exactly where we needed them to for the “climax”. Let’s talk about that climax: There was none. Let’s look at Degeneration and Damnation (no I won’t talk about Vendetta). Both had their weaknesses but Leon and the climaxes were BADASS. Leon doing parkour in Degeneration? Leon going against Lickers and the huge Tyrants in Damnation? Those were amazing scenes. He did a few cool things here and there but nothing that got more of a laugh out of me. My man is coming off re4 where he rampaged through a village, a castle, and an island of mutated creatures to save one girl. C’mon now. Characters: By now (if anybody is even reading this rant), you’ve noticed that I’ve talked a lot about Leon. But what about Claire? Yeah, they lied to us about them working together. She got sidelined again. A lot of people are upset about this -- and yeah, it sucks because I do love Claire. Leon has just happened to be my favorite since 1998 so I wasn’t as heartbroken. That doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed, I’m just not very surprised. Leon - My main problem with Leon is Nick, his voice actor. I’m so sorry for all those who like him, but he just isn’t good enough for me. Paul Mercier (re4, Degeneration, Darkside Chronicles) and Matt Mercer (Damnation, Re6, Vendetta) would have been more appropriate. Nick tries his best, but he’s just too soft sounding to be post-re4 Leon. This is a man who is quipping one-liners left and right a couple of years ago. Now he’s barely smiling and doesn’t feel confident at all, and I think a lot of that is because of his portrayal. There are times where the lines hit, but more often than not they fall flat. I never felt that way with Paul who is my favorite Leon or Matt who gave emotional performances every time. Also, his decision at the end? I can understand it, but explain to Claire! Claire - I like Stephanie as Claire, I have no problems with her. She makes her sound tough and ready to do what she thinks is right. Unfortunately, the story completely sidelines her and makes her role obsolete. Everything she uncovers (because that’s her role apparently, just there to Nancy Drew) is already told to us through flashbacks and other characters. Why even have her? Was it just to show us WHY her and Leon don’t talk often? A waste. Shen Mei - I don’t care. I felt nothing for her. They tried really hard, but they just failed to flesh these new characters out and when her time was up I once again went: Oh? That’s it, then. ‘Kay. I think I laughed a bit, sorry girl. Her whole plotline was to get that chip in Leon’s hand, nothing more. Jason -  I don’t care. A character I thought I felt sorry for with his ptsd but nope. Once his story unfolded - messily, I might add (I hate the REPEATED flashback shit. Tell me once and stop teasing me.) I just went... okay, what the hell is your plan? To spread fear? ‘Kay. It was dumb and made no sense. What, he wants everyone to feel terror so they know? It needed to be clarified. It’s like they couldn’t figure out more synonyms for fear and terror. So, what? It helps keep Leon from going public with the chip and that information? Because he knows it’ll just cause mass hysteria? And then you’ve got Claire’s side - she’s not an agent and she believes the people have a right to know. They’re both right, but there’s no goddamn communication between ANYONE in this show. I just felt exhausted by it, nothing else. Not to mention it’s useless angst because of the plot of Degeneration. Wilson - Our bad guy. Let’s just sum up really quickly in case people were confused by the plot: He was putting infected soldiers into war zones so that even after they died they’d kill anybody involved, then he’d bomb the area and clean up the evidence. These soldiers didn’t show any symptoms because they had inhibitors that kept the virus at bay until they died, so they had to take regular shots to stay human. He’s the one who gets the zombies into the white house so that he could blame it on China and get the US into a war with them. That way he could send in his soldiers and infect the populace. From there, he’s the only one with the cure so he could rake in LOTS of money selling it to the world. AKA: he wants to use the US military to infect everyone so he can make a profit. He gets infected by Jason and gets away... then meets up with someone who gives him an inhibitor. This someone is working for Tricell, the big bads of re5 who work under Wesker. So it leads right into the fifth game. That’s all he is, a tie in and yet another example of someone in power trying to profit off the viruses of the RE world. Honestly, nobody else is worth mentioning. Animation: They’re getting better at it. Leon and Claire looked especially pretty, but there’s still a stiffness here and an issue with everyone’s mouths while they talk. I want to praise how different SOME of the characters look - the president and his aides all look appropriately aged and grizzled and distinct. Same with Jason. Other characters (side characters mainly) kinda look generic. Shen Mei for example isn’t very distinct. I mean, her grandpa and brother (both one scene wonders) were more realistic looking than she was. Even Claire - they gave her a bigger nose and made her look more in line with her Revelations 2 model (thank god I love that model). Movement was pretty fluid, I wish we’d seen more fighting and cool action -- though not to the extent of Vendetta. Maybe that’s what they were trying to avoid, but it didn’t make it any fun to watch. Enemies: This is the last thing I’ll comment on. The zombies were fine - they always are. I heard a ton of reused sounds from remake2, as well, but I thought of it as an Easter Egg more than anything. They looked good, their gore was good, all set there. Problem was, they were basically the only bad guys. That’s a huge fucking disappointment. I know people recognize this series as ‘the one with the zombies’ but that’s not true. Every game (save 7) had MULTIPLE enemy types all created through bio engineering. In this show we see three types. THREE. Zombies. Zombie rats - a one-scene wonder that Leon dispatches fast and easy. I’ll admit, they looked cool but there was nothing else to them. “They’re a bioweapon” and then Leon fries them all with some electricity and we’re done. Jason’s mutated form. Okay, I have to admit, I really loved his design. He was cool, I liked that he could talk and emote. But, other than that? He didn’t DO anything cool. He mutated once and hopped around a lot. That’s it. I mean, a bioweapon that keeps his mental capacities? C’MON! We could’ve done so much more with him. Again, this goes back to why the climax was so bad -- he and Leon didn’t fight. One jumped, the other ran around to catch up and fired a few bullets and a rocket at him. Then he used an acid bath to finish the job. (Also, explain to me WHY he mutated into a tyrant-like creature while everyone else with that specific virus was another form of zombie? We see Jun (Shen’s brother) mutating almost crystal-like at one point but... what? You leave them off for a while and they turn into crystal zombies? Make it make sense.) I’m sure there’s more to say, but honestly, unless you’re a hardcore RE fan like me, I’d say you can skip it. It wasn’t a fun ride, there weren’t any stakes, it wasn’t emotional... it just... was. I will end on one good note that made me smile, though: I loved seeing the Ashley Easter Egg.