#anyways. hope you had the loveliest day and that you got to spend it just the way you wanted to. may this next year be a blessed one and
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꒰ 🌧 ꒱ ┄ ❛ dark academia ；caeruleum ❜
* pairing: vampire!heeseung x afab!reader
* tags: smut, fluff, romantic, human!reader, degradation (m. receiving), praise (m. receiving), mentions of free use, handjob (m. receiving), overstimulation (m. receiving), bratty!heeseung / switchy!heeseung if you squint, cunnilingus, body worship [kinda] (f. receiving)
* summary: because you two were loud last time, rumours have been spreading around about you two, causing you to receive a lot of unwanted attention from your peers.
* word count: 10k
* a/n: hello babes !! omg i almost forgor about this- but i DIDNT SAUR ENJOY THIS REPOST <3333 tysm for all ur support i wish u the loveliest days ahead c: and if you wish to come drop by my twitch streams, you can dm me and ill gib u my link ehheeheheheh ok thanks baiii
Even on weekends, you'd typically spend all of your free time cooped up in your tiny dorm, studying. Your timetable consists of waking up, getting ready, going to classes, studying and sleeping. You don't really do anything else and you don't really go outside much either.
It's not that you're in love with learning, although you do like learning — it's just that you don't really have anything else to do. Nothing interests you and oftentimes, you'd get so bored that you just end up thinking, well, the books are right there. Might as well do some studying. At least it'll give me something to do.
You thought about going outside and seeing the world; the world that is so unknown to you and many other humans out there, the world that any human would be extremely lucky to see… yet you can't bring yourself to step outside of your dorm unless it's for classes. You wish you had more courage to do so but after your first day here, you decided that it's best to lay low and not bring any attention to yourself. After all, your existence here is already controversial enough.
Thus, you live your life like this. It's boring and repetitive… but it's not like you're doing anything to actually change it. Plus, being here is something that you've always wanted to do ever since you were a kid, so it's not all bad and despite the less than ideal treatment you've got during your time here, there's still nowhere else you'd rather be at.
Besides, the isolation, gossip and rumours don't bother you much anyway. It'll never be as bad as the first week and you're thankful that everyone here usually lets you be — that is, usually.
Lately, you've come to notice that people are gossiping about you again but you're not sure why. You can't really hear what they're saying nor can you really ask someone about it… but you doubt it's because you're human, they've already gossiped about that on your first week here.
Maybe it has something to do with your lab partner, Heeseung. After all, the gossip did start right after the day you hooked up with him. But you doubt it.
Speaking of your lab partner, you wonder where he's been all this time. It's been a couple of days since you last saw him, he didn't even come to class two days ago. You hope he's okay.
You don't think you'll see him today either. After all, you both only share one class together, Intermediate Alchemy, and you don't have that class today. Even so, for some reason, there's a part of you that hopes to see him today anyway, maybe because he's the only person who's actually kind to you here. Everyone else would just ignore you.
As you walk down the hallway to go back to your dorm, the faint sound of an unfamiliar melody stops you in your tracks. You do a double-take, is what you're hearing what you think you're hearing?
It is.
It's the piano.
Someone's playing the piano, and beautifully so. Such beautiful and delicate melodies played with such grace, you can't help but think to yourself, a complex piece like this must take days to learn how to play. Who's playing it? And what piece is this?
Thus, you follow the faint sound of the grand piano, hoping to find the talented person playing it. Besides, you're in no rush anyway.
After a few seconds of walking, you find yourself standing in front of a closed classroom door. The sound of the piano is still a bit hard to hear properly but you don't want to open the door and disturb the person playing so you press your ear against the door, trying to listen to the piano piece as discretely as you can.
Thank God the hallway is empty or else there'd be more weird rumours about me, you can't help but think to yourself while silently chuckling.
But all too quickly, like less than a minute or so, the melodies stop playing. You wait for a few seconds to see if they'd continue but instead, you hear the faint sound of footsteps coming closer to you. You barely have enough time to detach yourself from the door and look unsuspicious before the door suddenly opens and an annoyed looking Heeseung peeks out.
However, his expression quickly changes to a surprised one as he sees you standing there like a deer caught in headlights. Now with his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised, he opens the door a bit more as he looks at you. A moment of silence passes by until you awkwardly clear your throat to break the silence.
"Um, hi," you say to him, hoping that he's not annoyed at you for listening in on him.
"Ah… hi…" he shyly says. His left hand scratches the back of his head as his eyes move away from you, but only for a moment. "Sorry, I, uh… I thought you were... one of those people."
His tone is sharp and annoyed and he rolls his eyes as he says the last two words but then he looks at you again and gives you a smile that reaches his eyes.
You reply, "No, no. I'm sorry I… kinda listened in on you."
"Kinda?" He asks with a teasing tone, his smirk is evident.
You laugh in response. It's short but the lightheartedness of the laugh still manages to dissipate the awkwardness between you two. Heeseung leans against the door frame with a smile and softly says, "It's okay."
And then he pauses. It feels as if some words are meant to be spoken here, right at this moment, but there's only silence as he stares at you. A couple of seconds later, he continues, "Um… do you wanna come in?"
Hell yeah. You've never seen this room and you're curious.
It seems that your facial expressions tell him your answer loud and clear. He gives you a bigger smile, the kind of smile that one can't stop from appearing even if they tried, and takes your hand in his to pull you into the room with him. His hand feels slightly warmer than yours and something that surprises you is the fact that his hand feels like it fits you more than your own. It makes you feel strange... knowing that even your own hands, hands that were created to fit perfectly into each other…
All your life, you've always thought that there's no way someone else's hands would ever fit into yours as perfectly as yours do but as his hand holds yours, guiding you to take a seat in front of the grand piano, you think to yourself, maybe I was wrong.
Brushing your weird thoughts away, you pull your hand away from his and look around the room. It's a bit dark in here because the curtains are closed but you can still make out what's inside the medium shaped room; some bookcases at the wall, a whiteboard at the front, some musical instruments at the left side and this grand piano at the right. Other than that, it's pretty empty which makes it appear more spacious than it actually is.
After putting your sling bag down on the floor beside you, Heeseung, now sitting next to you, starts playing a different tune than before and you watch as his pretty hands gracefully move from one key to another, you listen to the unfamiliar yet beautiful piece of composition.
Soon, the music grows in pace and intensity, you can feel the composer's passion as it goes on. Then it slows down to a soft and romantic pace, somehow reminding you of the beauty of nature despite being in a dark room with none, and then a moment later, it grows again until it eventually comes to a really slow and soft tune that reminds you of the gentleness of a mother bird singing to its nestlings. As you listen to him play, you feel like you're being kept at the edge of your seat, following the music as if you're a leaf in a stream of water. It's exhilarating, really. You didn't know music could do such a thing.
By the time he finishes playing, you're in awe of his talent in playing the piano, fully knowing that playing such beautiful composition takes a lot of time and effort. Before you could compliment him, he's already speaking, "Do you like it? It's called Dreams of Love by Franz Liszt."
"Yeah," you say, a bit breathlessly, just now realising that you've been holding your breath. "Wow, you're so talented."
His laugh is soft in your ears. "Thank you."
Turning to him, you look him in the eyes and say, "I didn't know you could play piano so beautifully."
Your words make him blush a bit; a soft shade of pink dusts his ears and cheeks — it reminds you a bit of the intimate moment you shared with him a couple of days before. As he murmurs a shy thank you, it becomes a bit awkward between you two again. Heeseung starts fiddling with his fingers and he opens his mouth as if to speak but he closes it back after a second or two.
Eventually, he does speak but his voice is devoid of all lightheartedness from before and his face shows a sorrowful expression. "Look," he sighs and turns to look at you. "I should apologise for the… uh… well, the last time, um, you know." He then gives a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands at his failed attempt to communicate his thoughts to you. "I'm sorry, I- We… we shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."
You can only stare at him in disbelief. "What?" You say, your tone sounding a bit too harsh for both of your likings.
Truthfully, his words hurt you, more much than you'd like to admit. In a way, you kind of gave him a part of you, you showed him your vulnerability and you let him touch you in ways you'd never let strangers or even regular friends do... and now he tells you he regrets it. It hurts and you feel a bit embarrassed. You enjoyed your time with him but unfortunately, you guess he doesn't feel the same.
Suddenly, Heeseung realises that what he just said is probably the worst thing he could ever say to you. He quickly tries to take it back, "Wait- nonono, I meant-"
But you're already standing up to leave, not really wanting to hear whatever else he has to say. As you move, he gets up with you, his tone starting to sound desperate as he calls out to you. "No wait, please, please don't leave. I don't think you understand me."
And to think that I thought we could actually be friends.
You might sound a bit dramatic but you can't help what you feel. Now your relationship with him feels weird and awkward. You just want to quickly leave.
Right as you're in front of the door, he grabs your arm as a last attempt to stop you. Calling your name again, he pleads with you, "Please listen to me, it's not what you think. I-"
With wide eyes, his breath hitches as he stops himself from continuing, a bit mortified at what he almost blurt out. You only give him a confused look with an eyebrow raised. After a moment of just staring at each other in silence, he finally breathes out a worried sigh and surprisingly rests his head on your shoulder while intertwining his hand with yours. But what's more surprising is the fact that you don't have the heart to push him away.
What a weird person, you think. First he tells me he regrets having sex with me and now he does this.
"I'm sorry. I'm a mess when I'm with you," he murmurs, his face heating up at the confession.
As much as your heart beats faster at his words, you can't help but ask yourself, why? You're just a human. Heeseung can't possibly like you, could he? He has many other suitors that would be more than elated to be with him. Maybe he means that you just make him nervous — you wouldn't be surprised if you do since you make many people here nervous by just breathing.
Just as you're about to say something, you hear footsteps coming near you both, along with the sound of people talking... surprisingly about you. Although you're not new to people gossiping and spreading rumours about you, it does pique your curiosity; you've always wondered what people say about you behind your back.
On the first week, you heard people saying that you came from a rich family that had relations with the university's administrative staff or that a supernatural family adopted you or that you're not really human. Those were only the light rumours. Sometimes, when walking to class, you'd hear people say that you're working undercover for the human government, that you're only here to destroy the supernatural space and that everyone should be wary of you.
It makes you a bit sad, to be honest, because those words couldn't be further from the truth. However, you don't particularly blame them; humans haven't exactly been nice to the supernaturals, so you try to not take offence.
This time, however, the rumours are something else and it seems to involve not just you but someone else too.
"There's no way that happened," someone irritatedly says. If you could see them right now, there's no doubt in your mind that they'd be rolling their eyes.
"I'm just saying what everyone else is saying," another person says, their tone more nonchalant than the other’s.
"God, I swear, rumours are so dumb, like Heeseung and Y/N fucking in the dorms, really?" Your eyes go wide at the revelation, is that what everyone's talking about? But how did they know? And why is it a huge deal if I get laid? It doesn't make sense to you.
The same person continues, their voice growing louder as they walk closer to where you're standing, "This sounds as ridiculous as the time when everyone was saying that Jake fucked 100 people."
"Ah, but this one could actually be true," the other person thoughtfully says.
"What? Don't tell me you actually believe-"
"There are people who said they heard them," they say as a matter-of-factly, their voice now growing fainter as they pass by you but you can still hear the change of tone in their voice, now sounding more intrigued, "They say she edged him a couple of times and he wouldn't stop begging her to fuck him." Chuckling, they continue, "Must be a fun time."
Heeseung buries his head deeper into your shoulder as they say that, his hair tickles your neck a bit but you don't mind. Plus, you're more focused on their conversation, so much that you almost don't feel his hand tightening his hold on yours.
At the same time, you hear the former laugh and say, "You're so fucking weird."
Their conversation doesn't stop there but that's all you're able to hear, they're too far for you now. However, you're pretty sure Heeseung can still hear them — after all, his hearing is better than yours could ever be. But now that you know what everyone's talking about, you understand why he said what he said. He's surely not fond of the gossip about you two. You feel a bit sorry about it and despite knowing that it's not really your fault that people gossip about you, it doesn't really make you feel better.
A while later, Heeseung finally speaks again but he still doesn't move away from you and his voice sounds grim, a contrast to his usual demeanour, at least from what you've seen. "Sorry. It's my fault. I should've been more careful."
You try to look at him, a bit confused at what he's saying but he's hiding his face from you so you instead simply ask him, "Huh?"
He takes a deep breath as if trying to gather his confidence. Then, he pulls away from you and you're now able to see his face clearly. Ah, so that's why he was hiding.
With an obvious blushing face, he says, "It's not that I regret it, of course not, it's just that I think we should've done it elsewhere because obviously, people could hear and it was so stupid of me for not thinking about that." He gives out a frustrated sigh and continues, his voice soft and sad, "I guess I got carried away... I'm sorry."
Another moment of awkward silence as you try to make sense of what's going on. When you finally do, you can't help but question him, your voice almost as soft as his, "Why are you apologising?"
Giving you a surprised look, he pauses for a moment as he contemplates his answer. "D-doesn't the gossip bother you?"
He looks so sad that you just can't help but tenderly hold his face, making him look at you as you reassure him, "Heeseung, people always talk about me. It's nothing new. If anything, I should apologise since you got dragged into it."
Quickly objecting, he blurts out, "No, it's my fault! If I would've been more careful- if I haven't been thinking with my dick instead of my brain, this wouldn't have happened and you wouldn't have hated me and everything would've been fine and-"
You've never seen him look so distraught before. Seeing him being so uncharacteristically talkative worries you because despite knowing little of him, you do know one thing; he's not the type to word vomit, he always thinks things through before he speaks his mind and when he speaks, his words are fully thought-out. He may stutter here and there but they'd still seem thought-out and planned. Now, seeing him not able to do so and just desperately speaking, trying to convince you that he's at fault... it just doesn't sit right with you. How long had this issue been on his mind? And to what extent does he blame himself?
"Heeseung, calm down."
But he doesn't. He seems to be fully inside his mind, blurting out words as much as he can as if he's blurting out days' worth of worries. You're not sure what to do to calm him down but in a state of panic and with your hands already on his face, you pull him close and kiss him, hoping that the shock would be enough to stop him from overthinking.
Fortunately, it works. He gives a soft muffled sound as your lips touch his and then everything gets quiet. Still, he doesn't kiss you back, most likely too shocked at your actions. The kiss itself isn't long, you don't let it nor need it to be — you pull back a few seconds later. Looking into his almost teary eyes, you apologise for the sudden kiss, "Sorry, I didn't know-"
You're pretty sure he wasn't listening to you because now the tables have turned; now, he's kissing you and the kiss he gives you is way different than your attempt to get him to calm down — it's intense, messy, desperate and so intoxicating that you almost forgot to kiss him back.
When you do kiss him back, his actions only become more desperate. His hands constantly move; first from his sides to your shoulder, then to hold your face, then to your arm as he pushes you against the door, then to your waist, almost as if he's trying to make sure that you're really here. His lips never stop moving to press open-mouthed kisses to yours and as he does so, a small part of you can't help but feel like he's offering every part of him to you through the kiss, stealing your breath away in the process.
Eventually, you both pull away, needing to breathe. For a while, you both stare into each other's eyes. Heeseung rests his forehead against yours, his lips a bit swollen as he pants and his breath feels hot against your lips.
After a moment of intense silence, he speaks, his voice sounding a bit hoarse and it's as if he's talking to himself rather than to you. "You don't hate me."
You reply, "Of course not. How could I?" Gently caressing his cheek with your thumb, you whisper, "You're the only person here who's been kind to me."
Something in his eyes changes — you're unable to pinpoint exactly what it is but you don't ask either. He gulps, still breathing heavily, still looking into your eyes and then asks you with a soft wavering voice, "Why did you kiss me?"
It isn't his question that catches you by surprise but the look in his eyes that make him seem like he's expecting or hoping for a certain answer. If you were to look away, you could answer him honestly; "it was to help calm you down" but you can't look away, not when he's staring at you so intensely, not when he looks like he's begging you to say something specific as he waits for your answer. Your breath hitches as you think, unsure of what to say to him.
But it seems that you were silent for way too long. Breaking eye contact with you to look at the ground, Heeseung takes a step back and his hand rubs the back of his neck for a short moment.
"Did you only kiss me to shut me up?" He chuckles after he says that but the slight bitterness in his voice is evident.
"I'm sorry, I panicked. I was trying to calm you down," you eventually say.
He simply stares at you as if you just said the most absurd thing ever; eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. After realising that you're actually serious, he grabs your hand and slowly brings it to rest on his chest, giving you the chance to pull your hand away at any moment if you wish. "Can you feel it?" He softly asks.
You know what he's talking about — his heartbeat right underneath your fingertips... but you can't feel it nor hear it. Thus, you replace your hand with your ear, resting your head on his chest as you try to at least hear his heartbeat.
Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.
It's faint but you can hear it... and it's beating quite fast for a vampire. You've heard that vampires have a slower heart rate than everyone else's and right now, you'd say his heart is beating pretty fast, just slightly above an average human's. You can feel his breathing too, it's a bit laboured.
When you pull away to look back up at him, you're greeted by a blushing Heeseung who asks you with a small smile, "Get it?"
Is he trying to say that you make him nervous?
Shaking your head no at him, you're still a bit confused as to what he's trying to convey. At your response, he sighs, runs his hand through his hair and then whispers to you, "How am I supposed to calm down when you're kissing me?"
That's when the realisation hits you. "Oh..." you whisper, now getting it.
"Yeah..." he whispers back then lightly chuckles. Placing his hand on the door behind you a moment later, he leans into you and continues in a low voice, "You wanna know how you can calm me down?"
That low voice makes you feel weird things, you just can't resist entertaining him when he speaks like that. "What?" You ask, your voice also low.
"You can hug me." Raising an eyebrow at him, you hum for him to continue, a bit surprised at the answer. "I like hugs," he continues with a boyish smile.
"You want a hug?"
With the same smile, he softly says, "Yeah."
"If you say please, I'll give you one."
He wastes no time. "Please," he says with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.
How could you say no to him when he looks so cute? So you hug him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head on his shoulder. He immediately hugs you back, his grip on you a bit tight but you don't mind, not when he feels so warm and comforting.
After a long moment of just hugging each other, you can't help but playfully ask, "Are you calm now?"
"I don't know," he starts. "Maybe you can check my pulse to find out?"
You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he says that. You're not sure what he's hoping to get out of it — maybe he just wants your hands on his neck... or maybe he just likes to tease you. Whatever it is, you can't help but roll your eyes.
Suddenly, a fun idea pops up inside your head and you nonchalantly reply, "Okay."
Grabbing his face with both of your hands, you pull his head back to look at his neck. As your hands move to make him look up, your eyes take in every millimetre of his neck, specifically the spaces underneath his jawline, trying to find a pulse. Fortunately, it doesn't take you a long time.
"W-wait wait wait wait-" He gasps as your tongue probes at his pulse, his hands now moving to grip your shoulders. You only did it to tease him — you like it when he's flustered, but surprisingly, you can actually feel his pulse underneath your tongue. Intrigued, you pause your actions to count his heart rate, as weird and funny as that sounds.
You're not really surprised when you feel it beating rapidly. After a few seconds, he gives out a shaky exhale and says, "Is this a normal thing humans do?"
You chuckle at his words and then quickly bite down on the spot. He gives out a choked moan in response and further tightens his grip on your shoulder. "Aw, is baby flustered?" You tease him, unable to help yourself.
He can only whine your name as your tongue starts swirling around the same spot.
"You're so responsive... I love it," you whisper to him, your voice making him shiver. "And to think, I'm only playing with your neck. Is it that sensitive?"
As you start sucking on the small bit of skin in between your teeth, his jaw moves in an attempt to answer you but you don't hear his voice at all — he doesn't speak, not even when you're done giving him a hickey, not even when you're done giving him three. Pulling back, you take a moment to admire the small bruises on his neck but as time goes by and nothing changes, you begin to realise something.
"Why aren't they disappearing?" You comment, a bit alarmed.
However, Heeseung doesn't seem that concerned. He shrugs it off and replies with half-lidded eyes, "Ah, it's fine, it'll go away eventually."
"Is that normal?" You ask, still a bit hesitant.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry."
Deciding to take his word for it, you continue leaving hickeys on his neck. He hums in approval, his breathing hot and heavy and you eventually lose count of how many you actually gave him. When you pull back to look at his neck again, it's already half-covered with small bruises; all of them still bright red.
Just the sight of it makes something inside you snap and you can't help but ask him, "You don't mind me touching you right, Hee baby?"
With his head a bit dizzy, Heeseung struggles a bit to speak, "N-no, you can... you can touch me all you want."
"I can touch you anywhere?" You smirk, already knowing what you're going to do to him.
"Anywhere you want," he softly replies.
At his words, your hands waste no time moving to his torso, touching every part of it from his shoulders, then to his collarbones, then to his chest. His breath hitches when your hands move across his nipples but you don't stop to play with them — you continue moving your hands down to his abdomen. As you do so, you ask him, "I can touch you here?"
"Mhmm." His eyes automatically close as he says that, wanting to focus on your hands touching his body.
Seeing him relaxed and full of anticipation at the same time only spurs you on and so, you move one of your hands to squeeze his ass. He gasps and jumps in response, not expecting that to happen.
"What about here?" Your teasing tone only seems to make him melt.
"Y-yeah," he breathlessly says as he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands now gripping your waist.
Further teasing him, you slowly move your hand from his ass to grip his dick through his pants. "Even here?" You ask him with a raised eyebrow.
He can't stop himself from moaning and pushing back into your hand at the contact. But before he could reply, you're already talking while feeling him up, "Wow, you're already kinda hard. Does this turn you on, hm? Being groped like a whore?"
Giving out another moan, he starts grinding into your hand as if to show you how turned on he is. He doesn't say anything but you can practically guess what he's thinking right inside his head; feel it, feel how hard you make me. You push your hand against his dick harder and he hisses in response. "You like that? Being my whore? Letting me play with your dick however I want, whenever I want?"
"Yes," he moans. "Just use me."
"Now, now. Where are your manners?" You ask as your other hand starts playing with his left nipple through his shirt.
At first, he stays quiet for a while, not wanting to answer you but as your fingers pinch his nipple, he jumps and squeaks out, "Please!"
"Please what?" You can feel his dick getting harder through his pants and just to tease him further, you play with his tip, pressing and swirling your thumb against it over and over again.
With a groan, he relents surprisingly quickly, "Please use me how-however you want. I really need your hands on me, please."
"I'm already touching you though?"
"No..." He trails off with a hiss. "Can I please take off my pants?"
As you feign thinking, he hurriedly continues, "Please, I need to feel your hands on my dick, please? I'll do whatever you want, I'm your whore. Just please touch me, it feels really good. I need it so much. Please."
"Needy today, huh?" It's a bit surprising, honestly, you were expecting him to give more of a fight based on the last time you hooked up, but nevertheless, he's still cute. Plus, it makes your job easier.
In response, he just hums, simply agreeing with whatever you're saying without a second thought. Satisfied with his pleas and answers, you tell him that he can take his pants off and he quickly does so, his movements hurried and sloppy, desperate to get it off as quick as he can. Once his pants are discarded on the floor like a metre away, you pull him into you by gripping his hips and then you pin him to the door right behind you.
Immediately, he leans against it and his hands go to grip your waist again but you quickly grab his wrists and pin them right beside his head. Leaning closer to his ear, you sternly tell him, "Keep your hands there, got it?"
He gulps and nods at your authoritative tone. You then take a good look at his dick since you didn't really get to last time — you notice that it's lanky, average girth, with a slight curve to the left and circumcised. It's also hard but that's already obvious. In a way, it suits him and you think it's pretty, just like him.
When you look back up at him, you can't help but smile at the shy expression he gives you. Whispering into his ear, you say, "You have such a pretty dick... but do you know how to use it?"
Biting his lip, he slowly shakes his head no. As your right hand go to unbutton his shirt, you continue, unable to mask the excitement in your voice, "Well that doesn't matter. I can always teach you how." You let your fingers brush along his shaft, your touch barely there as you continue, "And when you do learn, I might let you fuck me one day." The response he gives you is cute; he quickly nods his head and pleads with you. "Would you like that?"
"Yes," he gasps, trying his best to not buck his hips. "Please."
"Alright, baby." Finally deciding to give him what he wants and put him out of his misery, you spit on your hand and start stroking his dick. Your spit makes your hand move easily and after a few moments of stroking, he gives out a loud moan, throwing his head back when you suddenly squeeze his dick — hard.
"You want people to hear us again?" You teasingly comment.
He nods and replies, "Yes... wanna... let them know... how... good you make me... feel."
"How dirty." You can't stop your smile of fondness from appearing or the chuckle that comes right after.
"I'm... your whore... remember?" Despite being paired with gasps and moans, his remark still manages to come out playful.
"Go ahead then, baby." He whimpers as your hand starts stimulating his tip. "Let everyone know who's making you feel so good. Your voice is too pretty for you to be quiet anyway."
Your right hand finally finishes unbuttoning his shirt. Without wasting any second, you touch his bare skin, running your hand all over his torso. His body's response intrigues you; everywhere your fingers go, his skin beneath you twitches and you're just using your hands. Imagine using your mouth — luckily, you don't need to imagine since he's right there.
The sound of his moan is so loud this time that it almost echoes across the room if it weren't for the room having many carpets. And to think that all you did was lick his chest. Granted, you did pinch his nipple while tightly squeezing his balls as you do so but who cares? He's so fun to play with, you just want to keep him like this for hours... but unfortunately, you're pretty sure that class is about to start soon, which means many people walking through the hallways.
Thus, you pick up the pace, trying to get him to quickly reach his high. Your left hand quickly moves up and down his shaft, your right hand goes to fondle his balls and your mouth starts sucking on one of his nipples — you doubt he's going to last long since his body is so sensitive. And based on his constant moaning and twitching, you can tell that you're right.
As you continue, he suddenly speaks, "I... I can't get our first time out of my head. I-it's like- it's like you're... haunting me." He moans when you lightly bite down on his nipple, his hips accidentally bucking into your hand. "Every time I close my eyes... I remember it again... I see it vividly... and I... I want to do it again with you... Did you... put a love spell on me... or something?"
As he continues to talk, a small uneasy feeling makes itself known to you — the kind of feeling that makes you feel as if something is wrong. It makes you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion as to what it could possibly be... but as you look at the man in front of you, you quickly understand. Just one look at him and you can tell that he's not in his right state of mind and you're pretty sure that he's just blurting out whatever's coming to his mind at this time. You can't shake away the thought that whatever he's saying right now is too private. You don't believe you should hear this, at least, not right now.
Worrying that he might end up regretting whatever he's saying, you tell him, "Heeseung, I don't want to hear anything else come out of your mouth except those pretty sounds you make, okay?"
And just to be safe, you insert two of your fingers into his mouth. As your fingers press against his tongue, he hums in response, closing his mouth and then he starts sucking on them. His tongue swirls around your fingers as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes.
Your hand goes to abuse his tip, your thumb swirling the precum around and pressing down on it again and again while your other hand continues to keep his mouth busy. His body shakes at your actions and suddenly, he quickly pulls your hand away from his mouth to say something.
"I'm gonna cum, what if-"
"You can cum, Hee baby. Go on, cum for me. You can do that for me, right?" Your voice sounds so sweet that he just wants to do whatever you say.
"But it- it's gonna get messy..." he whines and trails off. Despite his worries, his hips start bucking uncontrollably into your hand, trying to catch his high anyway — he doesn't want to stop but a small part of his conscious brain still worries about how he'll clean up his mess.
"Don't worry, baby. We can clean it up," you reassure him. "Go on, be a good boy and cum for me. And keep your hands back up."
"Okay- I..." He puts his hands back up and sucks in a deep breath as he feels himself reaching his high. That conscious part of him from earlier disappears and now, he's almost chanting, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank-"
The moment you start harshly sucking on his neck again, he's gone; with a loud and long moan, his hips thrust into your hand and streams of cum messily come out of him, getting all over your hand, onto your pants and even onto the floor. His body is shuddering and his eyes are rolled to the back of his head as your hand starts milking him for all he's got.
You coo at him, "Good boy, baby. Such a good boy for me."
"Please-" He squeaks, head thrown back against the door. You don't stop touching him though, not even when his streaks of cum stop coming out, not even when he starts uncontrollably trembling at every touch of your hand. One of your hands continues to quickly stroke his dick while the other fondles his balls, alternating from left and right. As you squeeze them, he gasps and whimpers your name.
"You're being such a good boy, baby... just taking whatever I give you." You start licking his chest, from his navel to his nipple. Heeseung shuts his eyes tight as his body continues to tremble against his will, his hands now in fists beside his head. As you play with his nipple, sucking on it and swirling your tongue around it, his back arches and he can't stop himself from thrusting in and out of your hand.
"You can cum for me one more time, right?"
He groans in response, nodding. "A-a... any... thiiing... f-for... y-you."
Letting go of his nipple to whisper in his ear, you say, "Right, you did say that you're my whore."
"Y-yes, yes, yes." He gasps.
So you continue touching and stimulating him until he cums again. Throughout it, he doesn't speak at all, only making pretty noises while his body trembles. It doesn't take long before he cums again. This time, it comes as a surprise — he didn't tell you that he's close. Perhaps he, himself didn't know that he was or maybe he wasn't paying attention, too busy being lost in his own bliss. Either way, based on his reaction, it seems that he's also surprised; he cums with a scream, his voice echoes throughout the room, his eyes tightly closed, and his hips stop moving but he's still trembling all over as another shot of his cum comes out of him.
So gorgeous.
You slow down your movements, not wanting to push him too much, until you eventually stop. Heeseung pants in front of you, looking helpless and blissed out.
"See, I knew you had it in you." As you slowly coax him back to reality, you slowly become aware of how uncomfortably wet your panties are. But you push that aside for now.
It takes him a moment to come back to reality and when he does, he still feels a bit dizzy. His hands go to grip your shoulder and waist for support and you hug him to soothe and comfort him, rubbing your hand on his back — the hand that's cleaner than the other. A moment later, he breathes out a soft thank you, feeling a bit spent.
"I'll... clean everything up," he breathlessly says while hugging you. You pat his head while his arms wrap themselves tightly around you.
"That's okay, baby. I have tissues in my bag. We'll clean it up together, yeah?"
He doesn't answer you and instead, asks for a kiss. Of course, you give it to him. How could you ever say no to this man? The kiss is unsurprisingly hot, heavy and messy, your tongues intertwine together just like your breaths. He moans into it and then pulls back to kiss your neck.
"Your turn?" He whispers into your neck, his breath hot against it. You close your eyes as he starts kissing and licking your neck, his tongue hot and wet swirling on a certain spot. You grab his shoulder as he continues, and then, a moment later, you feel his sharp fangs graze against your neck but before you could make sense of what's happening, he quickly pulls away, stopping himself.
"Sorry, can I-" He gives out a shaky breath. "I wanna... make you cum." He whispers out the last part. It was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it.
"You wanna make me cum?" You whisper back, your eyes still closed, now fully aware of the tension in between your legs.
"Yeah." His hands tenderly touch your body as he says that, going down from your shoulder to your breast and finally coming to rest on your waist.
"Sure."
He kisses you again but compared to your last few kisses, this one's short. Pulling away from you, he says, "We should- uh... change positions? Would it be easier for you?"
"Ah, yeah, okay." Despite your voice sounding nonchalant, your pussy throbs at the anticipation of finally getting the attention it craves. After you both change positions, with you now leaning against the wall and him in front of you, his hands go to unbutton your shirt and unhook your bra as he kisses you.
Gripping his hair, you pull him away from you — which earns you a moan. "Go fast, I think it's almost time for class."
"There's still tons of time," he reassures you. "Barely anyone has class in this building anyway. Don't worry."
Trying to reassure you, he gives you a smile and goes back to tenderly kissing your neck. It seems that there's a clash of wants — you just want to cum while he probably just wants to take his time with you. You're about to protest but his hands and mouth on your body make you change your mind, at least for now. With his hands kneading your breasts and his mouth slowly moving from your neck to your breasts, you give out a defeated sigh.
"Fine."
With a triumphant smile, he mumbles a thank you into your skin. His mouth is now sucking your left breast, his tongue swirling around your areola and the nub, making your pussy wetter by the second. The urge to touch your pussy grows as he continues his actions. One of his hands plays with your right breast while the other goes to unbutton your pants.
All of a sudden, he lightly bites down on your breast and you jump in response, unable to stop your moan from coming out. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."
He moans too but his moan comes out muffled against your breast. After a while, your hand grips his hair and he hisses as you move his mouth to your other breast. "Keep going baby, you're doing so good. Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"
The praise only spurs him on, his movements now getting bolder. Wasting no time, he begins to kiss it and then lick it, until finally, he takes it into his mouth, harshly sucking on the mound. You hiss and arch your back in response. With your pants now on the ground, your legs start to feel cold but your core is still hot and wet, demanding attention.
Eventually, he finally moves on, leaving your breasts to kiss down to your navel. Every kiss he leaves you is tender yet hot against your skin, just like his hands on your body. Once he reaches your navel, he kneels down and as you let him put one of your legs over his shoulder, his face is now very close to your crotch. Even so, he still doesn't give your pussy any attention yet. Instead, he starts at your inner thighs, specifically the one on his shoulder, slowly licking up closer and closer to your heat as his hands continuously move up and down your thighs. He stops where your thigh meets your groin and starts taking a small bit of your skin into his mouth to suck and bite on it.
You let him leave a hickey there — it's not like you can't hide it anyway. After he's done, he pulls away to admire his mark on you with a small satisfied smile but just as you thought he'd finally start eating you out, he starts the same thing over again, except this time, on your other thigh. You groan, beginning to get frustrated.
He seems to find it amusing, given by the fact that you can feel him softly chuckling into your thigh as he kisses it. "Heeseung." Your stern yet breathless voice only makes him smirk.
"Hmm?"
"You're being a brat," you hiss at him.
Pulling away from your thigh, he looks up at you with a defiant smirk and coyly says, "I'm only taking my time."
But as he moves to continue his actions, your authoritative voice makes him pause and shiver. "Heeseung, I will literally slap you." You're in no mood to take things slow, you just want to cum. That's all you want — to finally release all this built-up tension in your pussy.
"Kinky," he mumbles with a pout. It's not because he doesn't like being slapped — it's actually something he's willing to try especially during sex as long as you like it, but he's just pouting because he didn't get to-
Giving a frustrated sigh, you say to him, "You can leave a hickey there after I cum, damn it."
His face lights up as you say that and his hand grips your thigh. "Promise?"
"Yes!" You hiss. "Now be a good boy and make me cum."
Wasting no time, he hums and nods at your command, moving his mouth to your clothed pussy. He buries his nose and mouth in your heat, you can't stop a moan from escaping at the contact. His mouth starts kissing you, over and over again as his nose bumps against your clit.
"Fuck," you mutter, your hands gripping his hair tighter as he starts licking a long strip. It's relieving honestly — your pussy finally getting the attention it so craves... but it's not enough. You want his mouth on you, without anything else in the way. Thus, you tell him to take it off and he hums, acknowledging your command... but after a while, your panties are still on and he hasn't made a move to remove it, he just keeps on slowly eating you out with a smirk. When you finally realise that he's doing this deliberately, you snap.
"Heeseung!" Your voice is louder than you expected. "Take them off, for fuck's sake." Then, as if your mouth is on auto-pilot, you continue, "Do you want me to fucking slap you, huh? Is that what you want? You want me to fucking snap, don't you? Want me to pin you down and fuck you till your brain doesn't work anymore?"
At your words, Heeseung feels a bit intimidated but he can't help but also feel turned on at the same time. He moans into you and as he pulls away to pull down your panties, you continue, "Finally starting to take me seriously, huh? You're such a fucking brat, I swear to God, Heeseung. You just want to get punished, don't you?"
"God, you're so wet," he moans into you when he finally buries his face into your pussy again, without your panties this time.
Finally feeling his mouth on your heat, you moan in relief, pushing his head closer to your pussy while leaning against the door. His tongue starts licking up all your juices while his nose continuously bumps against your clit. Then, he starts sucking it, causing you to arch your back. "Fuck. That's right baby, keep going," you say, your tone now way calmer than before.
He hums into you as he continues to eat you out just the way you like, swirling and pressing his tongue against your pussy, sucking it, slurping up all of your juices. Your free hand now goes to play with your breast, massaging it while stimulating your nipple at the same time. His cums smears on your breasts as you do so but you couldn't care less about being clean right now.
When he inserts his tongue into your core, you loudly moan, your hand squeezing your breast tightly. And as he continues, sliding his tongue in and out of you, your pussy starts tightening around it and you gasp, "Fuck, I'm getting close. Don't you dare stop, you little brat, you hear me? I know you're thinking about it."
Gripping his hair tightly, you grind his face into your pussy, using him like a toy as you keep up a steady rhythm. He doesn't mind, of course he doesn't. He did say that you can use him however you want. And to help you reach your high, his hand moves to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles.
Here it comes, the release you've been seeking; there's that familiar knot in your stomach and with the help of his mouth and hand, you finally reach your climax with a moan, cumming all over his face as you bask in your release. Heeseung continues eating you out throughout it, taking in all of your juices in his mouth, not letting a single drop escape. His movements grow slower as time goes by until he eventually stops and pulls away, only to leave that hickey he so wanted on your thigh.
By the time he's done, you've gained your consciousness back. Still breathing heavily, you caress his head and softly say, "Thanks."
He licks your thigh one last time and then gets up to kiss you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug while doing so. You let him, not really bothered by the taste of you in his mouth. But the kiss doesn't last long since you're still breathing heavily.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you say after pulling away from him.
"It's okay," he says, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing also still heavy. Your hands move to cup his face and with a swipe of your thumb, you collect your cum on his face and feed it back to him. His lips part when your thumb touches them, and he obediently sucks it without protest.
"Good boy," you praise.
You pull your thumb away from his mouth. As his arms unwrap themselves from you, you lean against the door and give out a heavy sigh. Looking back at him, you say, "We should clean ourselves up and get dressed."
With a nod, he agrees, going to get the tissues from your bag that was by the piano. When he comes back with it, you both clean up the mess you both made; first, you both clean yourselves — although Heeseung prefers to clean you more with his mouth than with the tissues, then, you clean the floor and the door that still had streaks of his cum on them, and finally, you clean your clothes.
It's when he buttons up his shirt, you notice something strange.
"The hickeys are still there," you mention, now alarmed again.
Heeseung also gets alarmed, quickly taking out his phone to see himself but then chuckles a second later when he sees how he looks through the screen. "Damn, I looked fucked up," he mumbles.
His hand grazes the still bright red bruises on his neck and his eyebrows furrow at them when he doesn't see them healing. He turns to you and asks, "Did you drink something?"
"What?" You question as your hands are buttoning your shirt.
"Did you drink a potion or something today?" He asks, still looking at himself through the screen, his eyes looking slightly dark.
You pause your actions as you try to remember.
Potion...
Oh!
You remember now. It was during Tuesday's alchemy class where Heeseung unfortunately wasn't there. You remember that your lecturer taught the class about a new potion. Apparently, it's a consumption potion which means it only works if you consume it and he so kindly let you drink some of it after he finished explaining its properties. The colour of it was a very rich shade of blue and it smelled like the ocean... but the taste was... unpleasant, to say the least.
His voice rings across your mind, "So what it does is that it drastically slows down someone's regeneration ability, not yours but anyone you touch. Use with caution, alright. Don't be killing anyone. That's against the law."
"Oh... yeah, yeah I did. During alchemy class yesterday," you say, continuing to get dressed.
"Was it blue?" He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues buttoning his shirt.
"Yeah."
"Ah... no wonder."
You expect him to continue speaking but instead, he keeps quiet and simply tries to smooth out the wrinkles on his shirt. Eventually, you ask him a question that's on your mind, hoping that he's not annoyed or angry at you for leaving too many obvious hickeys on his neck. "But what are you gonna do?"
Please don't be angry at me.
"Oh, for these?" He shows you his neck, tapping the bruises on it. Then, with a smirk, he continues, "I'll keep them. Thanks."
"Are you sure?" You stare at him, surprised at his response.
Nodding, he reassures you, "Yeah, It's no problem. It'll go away eventually."
For the second time today, you decide to take his word for it. However, you can't help but wonder how long the potion's effect will last — maybe a couple of days? Hopefully not.
When you both finally finish making yourselves look presentable again, the comfortable silence you both share suddenly turns tense and awkward. You're unsure why but the reason makes itself known to you as you make your way to grab your bag.
Heeseung calls out your name. He sounds a bit nervous as he softly asks you, "What are we?"
Grabbing your bag, you think about it for a couple of seconds. "Hm, I guess... friends with benefits?"
"Oh..." He slowly nods, looking down at the floor.
"Unless you don't want that. This can be a one-time thing if you want."
"Nono, I-" He quickly says. "I just..." Taking a deep breath, he brings his head up to make eye contact with you and continues, his voice soft and a bit unsure, "I want something more..."
You look at him as soon as you hear that; he stands there, still near the door, with his posture straight and his face serious as he looks at you. "What?" You can't help but say.
Gathering all his courage, he nods to himself and continues, "I want to date you."
Surprise is the only word that describes how you feel right now. Never in a million years would you ever think that someone here actually likes you, much less want to date you. You've never even thought about dating a supernatural before either. And although you do like Heeseung... you're still unsure if you like him more than just a friend or not. Unsure of how to reply to his sudden confession, you end up just staring at him.
At your lack of response, his cheeks begin to turn pink again and says in a shaky voice, "If that's... a bit too much then it's alright." He gives you a reassuring smile, hoping that you don't feel pressured to reciprocate his feelings. "I don't mind just being friends with you."
"Heeseung, I'm sorry, I'm not too sure," you begin. "I mean, you're the only person who's been kind to me here. I'm not sure if I like you that way... and I wouldn't want you to fall in love with me, only for me to realise later that I never really liked you more than a friend in the first place."
Silence fills the air again as he takes in your words.
"Would you... give me a chance, at least?" He finally says. "Like at least let me take you on a date? Please?" As he looks at you with such cute and innocent eyes, you find yourself smiling at him. "I can show you the world if you want..." and ever so softly, he says his next sentence, "If you promise to show me yours."
His voice sounds melodious as he says that — you could hear the genuineness and hopefulness in his voice. And as you both stand there, just staring at each other, you begin to think to yourself; why not?
"Where would you take me?"
His face immediately lights up as you say that and you can't help but laugh at his cuteness.
"Anywhere you want," he replies with a bright smile, the kind of smile that could make the whole world stop and stare.
"Okay," you softly say, walking closer to him and giving him your hand.
For the first time in your life, you find yourself feeling excited about leaving your dorm, you find yourself anticipating to explore the world that you were so hesitant to get to know. It's as if your worries about laying low suddenly don't exist. And even though you're not really dating, you still can't stop the wide smile on your face as he meets you halfway, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together.
"Thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on it.
"Thank you," you reply.
"For what?" He looks at you with a smile, slightly confused at your words.
Many things — for being kind to you, for being your friend, for not judging you just because you're human, and honestly, many more. But what comes out of your mouth is a simple, "Not every human has the honour of having a potential vampire boyfriend."
His laugh is bright and rich, music to your ears. His eyes crinkle as he laughs and his smile is wide. Just the sight of him laughing wholeheartedly makes your heart feel full. When he finishes laughing, his demeanour changes a bit to a playful one, leaning closer to whisper in your ear with that low voice and that signature boyish smile, "I can be much more than a vampire boyfriend."
"I have no doubt about it," you say to him as you try to calm down your beating heart.
Grabbing your bag from you with his other hand, he says, "Let me walk you to your dorm."
"Okay."
As you both reach the door, you take a look back and scan the room, just to make sure that everything's as it should be. You look back at him when you're done; he has his hand on the door as he asks you, "Ready?"
Nodding at him, you let him open the door and walk you to your dorm, your hands entwine together the whole walk.
#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#supernatural au#college au#enhypen hyung line#vampire#dom!reader#sub!enhypen#sub!idol#vampire!heeseung#heeseung smut#enha smut#heeseung hard hours#kpop smut
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omg hi i just stalked your entire profile, i love your writing so much!! and i look forward to seeing your future works as well~ i've noticed you interact with a lot of people, so i wanted to ask if you could maybe ship your moots with an atz and what their trope would be :>
hello anon ! thank you so much for enjoying what i write, it means a lot to me~~ <333 and hehehe, sure ! i thought about this a lot and decided to do it with the people i feel like i've talked to enough to get a feel of their personality !! also i am sosososo sorry that i took so long in answering !! uni is terrible and i just redid this multiple times because my lovely moots deserve the most detailed description of whatever i conjure up for them and who i ship them with 👿🤞🏼🙌🏼
@ad0rechuu and yunho — opposites attract ! zerooo is such a lovely person!! she's so supportive and she honestly reminds me of home! she reminds me of when i would wrap myself up in a blanket during winter tbhh hehehhehe since i've noticed zero is pretty calming and chill (but you have a goofy side as well! im always laughing whenever you send your memes HAHZHAJSJ). and yunho is such a goofball, not like absolutely crazy energetic/chaotic. but the two of you have differing personalities (but not like 100% different!) that would compliment each other so well like puzzle pieces!! (ZERO MY WIFEEEE ILYSM MWAH MWAH MWAH 😓🫶🏼)
@sanhwaism and seonghwa — childhood friends to lovers ! MY CUTIE PATOOTIE DEAREST AND LOVELIEST RIA 😓 i love ria smsmsmsmsm !! ria is such a sweet and lovely and caring person ughhh she is someone that you would want to protect and keep in your pocket at all times !! from the the times we've spoken, i felt like i had known her for a long time and that's why childhood friends to lovers trope would fit her and seonghwa ! seonghwa and ria would have those inside jokes that would make people go all like ?! what are they talking about ?! after seeing them start laughing,, and they'd be the type to suddenly appear at each other's door at one in the morning with takeout and be all like, "hey! i got us some breakfast!" so goofy and cute 😭
@jaehunnyy and san — academic rivals to lovers ! CHIPPIE MY LOVE MY EVERYTHING 🤍 you and san give academic rivals to lovers ! i feel like you and san would have a healthy dynamic though, like you guys would try to one up the other, tease each other and whatnot ! you guys wouldn't hate each other, but you aren't exactly friends either~~~ until many study dates/hang outs later san confesses to you while you're about to fall asleep in the library (it happened, your honor. i saw it WITH MY OWN EYES) !! anyways. you and san give healthy academic rivals to lovers vibes and i approve of it. youre so cute and funny and cheerful, and san would just look at you with heart eyes whenever you talk. HEART EYES. CUTE CUTE CUTE 🤞🏼🫶🏼
@dairyminki and san — next door neighbors ! ELLE, THE APPLE OF MY EYE, HIII (i miss you sosososo much; i hope you're doing well my dear) !! you and san would be next neighbors for foreverrr ! to the point where each other's parents would make you walk next door to give them food that your family that day 😭 and you and san would be like polite to each other, walk to and from school each other (it's an unspoken agreement!), just super like... unofficial friends IJFIA and honestly it just naturally turns into more from just being neighbors to friends, friends to best friends and then best friends to lovers! all giggles and shy glances at each other, holding hands and talking and literally spending your time with each other because hello you guys are literally living next to each other
@seonghwaddict and yunho — second chance romance ! LILOOOO MY BAEEEE 🫶🏼🫶🏼 you and yunho are very second chance romance as in you two had a very nice relationship during high school but broke up because the two of you got into two different unis NAURR 💔 BUT DONT WORRY ! years later you visit your hometown and bump into yunho ?! and you keep bumping into him ?! it's like the universe wants you back together ?! and maybe you two never dated anyone after each other because you two still have feelings for one another ?! and then one day you find yunho at your parents' doorstep ?! and he's professing he's undying love to you ?! and then it's like you two never broke up in the first place
HELP ME I REALLY WROTE WHOLE ASS SCENARIOS FOR THIS 😭 the way i've had this in my drafts since august... AUGUST.... goodbye.
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So, the first month of the year has passed! For Ukraine, it brought multiple bombings and some large-scale tragedies. On January 14, Saturday afternoon, a holiday when most people are at home, one of the Ruzzian missiles hit an apartment complex in Dnipro city. About 50 people died; even more were hospitalized. Many pets died as well, with only some of them being rescued. There are videos with people screaming under the ruins; videos of rescue and devastating findings. And this is just one building in one city.
Cities like Kharkiv and Zaporizhia; destroyed cities like Mariupol and Severodonetsk - this same tragedy happened there repeatedly. Just like in other cities of Ukraine, including my own. People lose everything, and over what? No one can give a satisfying answer because there isn't any. This war takes the descriptor "senseless" to a new level.
This is why every air raid makes my blood go cold. All you have left to do is sit there, listen for explosions, and hope that your own home won't become your grave.
Good things happened, too: Ukraine got great help from other countries. For myself, I reunited with my father: we spent some lovely days together. And despite Ruzzians' attempts to ruin our January holidays, my family spent them happily - as much as it’s possible in times like these.
I caught a new pigeon back on New Year: she's feeling better now, so here's a pic. (She’s also shy, so it’s difficult to take a good picture of her!)
As you see, the poor baby has a split beak, which complicates her ability to eat; one of her legs wasn't working and she had pneumonia. Fortunately, the latter two issues are half-gone! The meds are helping and she's feeling much better now. I hope she makes full recovery.
As I will always do it, I want to thank every person who keeps supporting me. Through comments, asks, Patreon, messages - it's all so valuable to me and I'm really grateful. This inspired my writing by a lot, so I managed to write more this year.
Patreon in particular helped me get an idea: for the first time since the war started, I decided to make a long-term plan. I want to have 2 weeks of vacation with my Mom this summer - to spend them outside of Ukraine, in a safe country where I wouldn't have to worry all the time. I really, really need to rest mentally and physically, but even more, I found that having a plan like this, for a distant future, helps a lot emotionally. My city is currently safe from active war actions, air raids are the biggest threat, but the fear is always there anyway, along with the thoughts about death. So having a date for my vacation in mind, the city I'd like to visit, the show I'll re-watch with my Mom when we get there - this makes me feel like my future is less vague and like I have something solid to look forward to. I'm very excited about this plan and I hope I'll be able to realize it!
Thank you all for being here again. And here's a pic of two of my idiot boys, Laoriy and Tom, to end this post on the loveliest possible note)
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Humanity's strongest, loveliest, and tiniest (Levi Ackerman x Reader) » Part II
Word count: 5 560
Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes
Part I
Humanity's strongest, loveliest, and tiniest (Part II)
After that night, days went by pretty quickly.
The next morning you found out what happened – the Scouts got surrounded by an unusually large horde of Abnormal Titans. Too many of them lost their lives in an attempt to defeat the enemy. After that, Erwin gave the order to retreat. A lot of soldiers were badly wounded, and continuing the expedition would end up killing them.
Everyone was devastated because the preparations for this expedition went on for weeks, even months. And now everything was in pieces. Even Erwin kept to himself for a day or two, not talking to anyone and mostly staying in his office. It made you worry, but reaching out to him did nothing. He needed to work his way through all of that alone.
Levi seemed to be fine the morning after. Well... mostly. He didn’t talk to you about what happened, but that wasn’t that unusual. You just had to wait until he was ready to open up or ask for help. Or just let the entire thing go completely.
„Are you planning to stay in bed all day?“ he asked one morning after you didn’t show any interest in getting up.
Your health wasn’t the best for the last couple of days. Fatigue, moodiness, almost extreme food aversion, dizziness, nausea, and frequent vomiting kept you company every single day. You’ve never felt this sick and weak. Never in your entire life. Because of that, it was almost impossible to keep it from Levi. But you tried anyway and hoped that the loads of work he had to face every day would keep him occupied until you get better.
„Not all day, just a few more minutes. I barely slept all night, couldn’t get comfortable.“
„I know, I didn’t sleep much either.“
You outstretched your hand towards him, putting a lot of almost nonexistent energy into a small smile. „Why don’t you come and lay down for a bit? Work can wait, it’s still pretty early, Erwin will understand.“
„You know I hate just lying around.“
„I know, but you need to rest, Levi. You are working long hours every day and after that last expedition... I just worry about you, that’s all. You’re being too hard on yourself.“
That night still haunted you. His bloodied uniform and torn cloak, him collapsing right there in front of you, the still healing cut under his eye. From what you heard it was a miracle he made it back that day. And that made you feel horrendously sick while you cried your eyes out for long hours during the times he wasn’t around. Because how could you ever again live in a world without him?
„My work keeps me sane, love. I need to do something or I’ll go crazy.“
„You could just spend the time with me,“ you teased your husband, still waiting for him to come closer and take your hand. „What if we left the HQ for a couple of days?“
„What do you mean?“ he asked and came closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Levi gently took your hand and brushed his thumb over your wedding band. It was a small gesture he did quite often. As if he still couldn’t believe you were his wife.
„We both could use a vacation somewhere quiet. The next expedition won’t be happening anytime soon, we should use this time wisely.“
The little smirk on his lips surprised you. But in a good way, his eyes always lit up a little when the corners of his mouth curled upwards. „That sounds lovely if I’m being honest. We didn’t have proper time off since our wedding. And that was a long time ago.“
„We should go up to the mountains again.“
„To the cabin, we spent our honeymoon in?“ You nodded, biting your lower lip playfully and squeezing his hand lovingly.
Memories of your honeymoon were some of the best you had. It felt like you and Levi were living a totally different life for those couple of days. All your worries melted away the second he put the wedding band on your finger. Suddenly, you had everything you ever wished for. And even more.
„Should I ask Erwin for permission?“
„If you don’t mind...“
„No, of course not. I’ll do anything for you to be happy.“ Another tiny smile settled on his lips as he leaned closer and kissed you. This was the true Levi Ackerman. A loving and caring man. A brilliant husband. „I’ll talk to him later, okay?“
„Okay.“
He was about to get up, but you quickly grabbed both of his wrists and pulled him back to bed. His disagreeing growl made you laugh before you found his lips again and shut him up in the most gentle and loving way. He stayed for a couple of minutes, held you tight against his chest, and made your morning sickness a little more bearable.
You slowly got dressed after he left for Erwin’s office and got ready for the day. The morning training was almost over, but you just couldn’t be bothered to go. You were sure Hange will understand.
„Good morning,“ you said to Petra with a bright smile when the two of you met at the HQ courtyard. All of your closest friends thankfully made it back from the tragically failed expedition. With a couple of scratches and injuries, but still. They were alive and safe, that mattered the most.
„Good morning, it’s so good to see you again,“ she replied happily and draped her jacket over her small shoulders. „Are you feeling better?“
„Yeah, a lot better,“ you lied. The two of you haven’t seen each other since the expedition, but since Petra was in your husband’s squad, she knew about some more personal things. You trusted her, she was one of your closest friends for a couple of years now. Even before the relationship between you and Levi got serious. „It was nothing, just nerves, and tiredness.“
„You can be just as stubborn as Levi, both of you should learn how to relax.“
„It’s too late for that, I’m afraid,“ you laughed a bit nervously, looking over her shoulder. Moblit was talking to some cadets just a few feet away. „Can we meet up later? For tea, maybe? I have to talk to my brother now.“ You nodded in his direction.
„Yeah, sure. We should finally sit down and catch up.“
„Great... around five, maybe?“ Petra eagerly nodded, gave you a quick hug, and went her own way. You felt bad about lying to her but had zero energy to talk about what was really going on. What you really needed was to talk to your brother and then to Hange.
Moblit saw you walking his way, quickly ended his chat with the cadets, and turned his full attention to you. „Good morning, beautiful,“ he said with a huge smile on his face, opening his arms so you could slip into his embrace.
„Hey, good morning.“
„Don’t take it the wrong way, but you look awfully pale. Have you seen that doctor yet?“
You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. „I didn’t sleep well,“ you mumbled into his shoulder and closed your eyes for a few seconds. It felt so good to lean against him and not have to carry your own body weight. „That’s why I skipped morning training. I hope Hange is not angry with me.“
„You weren’t the only one, don’t worry. Everyone is still shaken about what happened, a lot of people mourn their friends or are still recovering.“
„I’m really glad you and Hange had to escort me back that day, I can’t imagine...“ You couldn’t even finish that sentence.
Thinking about your younger brother or your best friend getting hurt made your stomach twist. Yes, being in the Survey corps came with a lot of danger and even more death. But you promised yourself that you would always protect those closest to you. Even if it meant sacrificing your own life to save theirs.
„Don’t think about that now,“ he said rubbing your back.
„It’s pointless I know, but... you didn’t see Levi when he came back that night. He never looked so devastated, I was seriously thinking that he was the only one who made it back.“
That expedition was a huge blow to the whole Scouting regiment. Nothing as gruesome happened in a long time. Yes, all expeditions beyond the Wall brought a few casualties, but this was something else. Something much worse. Almost half of the Scouts died that day. And that took a heavy toll on all of you.
„Be glad that he came back unharmed, and leave it be, please.“
You nodded, lifted your head, and kissed his cheek. „The other day you said something about going to the city library, right?“ you finally asked what you wanted to discuss with him. „If you’re still going, could you pick me up a couple of books?“ With a sweet and innocent smile, you pulled out a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of your pants. „I will be eternally grateful.“
Going that far was beyond your measures right now and since Moblit was always eager to help you with anything, you sometimes took advantage of it. But did the same in return when it was he, who needed a little help with something.
„If that’s all you need...“ he laughed and took the piece of paper from your hand. „I’ll get them, don’t worry. But maybe not today.“
„That’s fine,“ you assured him. „Thank you.“
„Anything for you.“
You exchanged a couple of more words as he walked you to your Squad leader’s office but then left to tend to his own responsibilities. Shear panic was spreading all over your body as you knocked on the door and waited for Hange to permit you to come in. You needed to talk to her for a couple of days now but kept putting it off.
But you were so tired of keeping secrets from Levi. It wasn’t fair, he trusted you and shared everything with you. And if your suspicions were true...
„Hey, do you have a minute?“ you asked your best friend and closed the door. Hange’s office was always a mess, but today especially. Science papers, mission reports, and various similar things were tossed all around the place. You couldn’t even see her desk under all those files.
„Yeah, just a second. Sit down until then, I’ll be right with you.“
„Sure...“ you said hesitantly and scanned the office with your eyes once more. There was no place to sit down, so you leaned your back against the door and crossed your arms. You still felt awful, waves of nausea coming and going every other second, while your head hurt like hell.
Hange was running around for a bit, mumbling under her breath and unsuccessfully searching for some papers she didn’t find in the end. For a short while it looked like she forgot about you, but then shot you a bright smile and hopped on top of her table, sitting down right on her papers.
„I’m all yours now, what’s up?“ she asked and took off her glasses for a short while, rubbing her eyes.
You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. Nothing was sure yet, but a lot of things started to come together. Even more when you thought about the last couple of weeks as a whole.
„I think...“ you said, but stopped almost immediately. You knew Hange was the right person to talk to about something like this. There was no one you trusted more. No other friend, to be precise. „I think I might be pregnant.“
Hange first laughed at your words, but when she saw the serious look on your face, her smile vanished. There was nothing to smile or laugh about, not if your suspicions were true.
„I’m not sure, but I’m... I’m really scared. Like really, really scared, Hange.“
You and Levi haven’t talked about starting a family. Not seriously. The topic of having kids came up a couple of times, but both of you just brushed it off. You were still young and living in a world where nothing was guaranteed.
Bringing a new life to a reality like this...
You felt a little selfish when thinking about having children with the man you loved. How would their life look life? With both parents in the Survey Corps, the poor child could end up an orphan in a blink of an eye. You weren’t ready to give up on your life in the military. Not yet.
„Okay...“ she breathed out and looked to the floor, gripping the edge of the table. „Why do you think you’re pregnant? What symptoms do you have?“
„I feel really tired and weak for a while now, I can barely eat because of the worst nausea I’ve ever felt. I’m always throwing up, feeling dizzy...“
„Okay,“ she said again firmly, gripping the table even harder. Her knuckles started to turn white. „When was the last time you had your period?“
You opened your mouth but closed it immediately. It was a simple question, you should have known how to answer it. But nothing came to your mind and that made you panic even more since the moment you realized it. Your period was never regular, so freaking out about it being late wasn’t something you did often. Not when you and Levi were careful and did everything to prevent you from becoming pregnant.
But now... with all the other symptoms...
„I don’t know, but it’s late. Even more than usual.“
„That still doesn’t have to mean anything.“
„Yeah, I know. But...“
„But there’s a pretty good chance that you really are pregnant, it would all make sense.“
That is what you were so afraid of – everything making perfect sense. How would you announce something this serious to Levi? How would he take it? Having kids is an enormous responsibility, were the two of you ready? Did he even want to be a father? He never knew his own dad, lost his mom as a little boy... he never had a parental figure in his life. What if he didn’t want kids because of that?
And what about you?
You trained really hard to become a Scout, it has been your dream for many years. And you loved it, despite everything. You couldn’t think about giving up on going outside the Walls and experiencing the freedom you felt there. Not yet, not so soon. The last couple of years just weren’t enough, you wanted more. Much, much more.
„It’s Levi’s, right?“ asked Hange in a quiet almost scared tone. She didn’t even dare to look you in the eyes as she asked the question.
„Of course!“ you assured her right away. „Why would you even ask such a question?“
She shook her head, hopped down, and went over to you. „I’m sorry, it’s just the look on your face. I’ve never seen you this scared.“
Maybe because you’ve never felt this scared. Not ever. Not even during some of the most brutal expeditions. Not even during your first one, when you got separated from your squad and had to face two Titans alone.
All sorts of emotions were squirming around in your head as your eyes started to fill with tears. You tried to fight them off but lost when Hange pulled you into a tight hug. The two of you’ve been through a lot since the days you were little. And she never let you down, not even once. Besides Moblit it was always her you could turn to when something was wrong.
„It will be fine, you know? You would make a great mom if you ask me. And Levi... well, he’ll learn. Someone like him is not going to be intimidated by a baby,“ she laughed, but her words made you cry even harder. „Look, you should see a doctor first, and plan the rest after you’re sure about the pregnancy. Maybe it’s something else. Maybe... maybe you’re just dying.“
„Hange!“ you cried out and rested your forehead against her shoulder in frustration. This was really not the time for her weird sense of humor.
„Are you okay, Mrs. Ackerman?“ You almost jumped hearing that question and finding a red-headed girl sitting next to you. She was one of the new cadets... Nifa, if you remembered correctly. One of the few that made it back from the last expedition. „You seem really distracted today.“
„What? Why?“ you shook your head and looked around. Since Hange had a lot of her own work, you agreed to watch over the new cadets during their evening training. But you barely showed any interest in what was happening around you. „I’m fine, sorry. Did all of you run twenty laps?“
„We finished about ten minutes ago.“
„Yeah, right. So...“ All of them were watching you, waiting for new orders. But you didn’t have a clue what to do with them next. Other times you trained with them as it helped in getting to know them and forming important bonds, but today you just sat aside and proceeded to lose yourself in your thoughts.
The whole world was falling apart right beneath your feet.
You were pregnant.
Two doctors confirmed it because you didn’t trust the first one and wanted a second opinion. Somehow you were hoping the first doctor was mistaken. But no, he was right. You and Levi were expecting your first baby.
Hange was the first person you shared the big news with. She proceeded to squeal with excitement so loudly, that the whole HQ surely heard her. The smile on her lips grew so wide you were afraid she was going to break her jaw in half. Not to mention the baby names she started to suggest to you for both genders.
„We can call it quit for today, go get some rest. Dinner will be served soon anyways,“ you said finally and smiled at the young recruits.
They seemed different from the last time you’ve seen them. Before the expedition. A lot of them were missing... and never coming back. Was it maybe your fault as well? Did you not help them adapt well enough? Was there something you could’ve taught them that would ensure their survival?
Maybe.
And maybe not.
You always did your best. At least you tried. That’s why everyone liked and respected you. Even before you got together with Levi. Being his wife just made things a little more... official?
„You all did great today. Any questions?“
When none of them responded, you waved your hand at them as a signal that the training was over. But none of them moved, all eyes were focused somewhere behind your back. You wanted to stand up before looking over your shoulder, but your legs were suddenly too weak to support your weight. Feeling horribly lightheaded you dropped back down on the bench, making some of the cadets jump to your help immediately.
„I’m fine, I’m fine...“ you assured them, trying to steady yourself and stand up once more. This time an arm firmly grabbed you around your waist and helped you up. Your husband’s light grey eyes were watching you worriedly while you leaned against his side.
„Training’s over for today, brats. Get lost!“ he ordered them in an unnecessarily harsh tone, but none of them questioned. Not even Nifa, who was still by your side. You gave her a tiny smile and waved to the other cadets.
„Being rude wasn’t necessary, darling,“ you said to Levi when it was just the two of you.
He shrugged and gently kissed your cheek, helping you sit down again. He sat beside you, hugging you around the shoulder and bringing you closer to him. „You should be in bed if you’re not feeling well. Or at the doctor, you should’ve seen days ago, because something is going on. This isn’t just nerves or tiredness like you always tell me.“
„I was at the doctor today,“ you whispered almost inaudibly, blindly grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers. Levi almost instantly froze in place which made you, even more, terrified to tell him the truth.
„And?“ he asked after a moment of painful silence. Your whole body tensed up, shivers running down your spine.
It was nothing that horrible is what you kept telling yourself. And Levi loved you, he would never be angry about something like this. Maybe he would be happy. Maybe he wanted a family with you. And maybe not. What if this was a good reason for him to leave you? What would you do in that case? Without your husband and a with his baby on the way?
„Talk to me, please.“ He seemed even more scared than you.
„Well, I’m not dying,“ you said and tried to laugh it off. But tears started to build up in your eyes again. You couldn’t even look at him, it was better to close your eyes and rest your head against his shoulder.
You suddenly felt sick to your stomach – but pregnancy wasn't the one to blame. Emotions were flooding your mind and making you want to stand up and run away. Hide somewhere and cry for hours to end.
Levi waited for a couple of minutes and rubbed your back for comfort as he planted a few kisses on top of your head. His hand was gently clenching your own, his thumb going back and forth over your wedding band. He was dying to know the answer but didn’t pressure you in any way.
„You forgot about the tea with Petra,“ he said finally, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles lovingly. The sudden change of topic surprised you, but you were glad. Wrapping your hand around his torso, you kissed his neck and closed your eyes to stop the tears from spilling. „She was looking for you.“
„I totally forgot about her,“ you mumbled, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
The sun was slowly setting, another day will soon be over. Summer was long gone and chilly fall nights were just around the corner. You loved the colder weather, it was the best for training. But not everyone agreed. Your husband hated the cold, especially on those mornings when getting out of your shared bed was hard enough on its own.
„We’ll make up tomorrow, I’m not really in a mood anymore.“
Levi nodded and suddenly stood up, carefully pulling you to your feet as well. He left one of his arms around your waist to make sure you can stand steadily on your own. Hand in hand you walked back to your room. It was just a short walk but you felt exhausted, ready to fall into bed and not move for another month. Overall, it was a pretty difficult day. At least emotionally.
„We can eat dinner here if you want,“ suggested Levi when he closed the door behind you. His work desk was covered in mission reports. That was always a sign of a long, sleepless night. Sometimes he let you help him, but today you were already sure that nothing like that is going to happen. „I’m not really in the mood to see anyone, had enough for today.“
„Rough day?“
„It’s more about the overall atmosphere, everyone is still loathing than cursed expedition.“
„Well, nobody was prepared for such a disaster. It’s natural to feel hopeless. The latest recruits seemed like completely different people today than a couple of days ago.“
„They should get used to it, being a Scout will never be easy. They should be aware of what they signed up for.“
„It’s not about that, Levi,“ you protested and sat down on the small couch next to the bookcase and the door leading to your shared bedroom. „You can never be prepared for something like that. Even you came back more shaken than ever before. For a while I thought you were the only one who made it back because you weren’t saying anything, you were covered in blood...“
And so on. Memories of that night still haunted you every time you looked at Levi’s face, where the cut under his eye was still healing. When it came to injuries, he paid just a small price that day. And you were more than grateful for that. But that didn’t help you forget about his bloodied uniform or about him just collapsing from exhaustion and grief right there in front of you.
You waited for his response but it never came. Levi just sat down at his table and got back to work, not looking in your direction even once. You sat there uncomfortably, anxiously tapping your foot and playing with your wedding band. Finding the right words seemed impossible. The worst part was that you didn’t have anyone, who could assure you that everything will be okay. Yes, Hange tried her best, but even your brutally intelligent best friend didn’t know everything.
You contemplated talking to Moblit first. He almost always had the right words for any kind of situation. But as you looked at your husband, you changed your mind. He deserved to know first. He was the baby’s father and the love of your life. Keeping something so important from him any longer would be unfair.
Yes, telling the truth and not knowing the outcome was scary. But was there really a reason to be this scared? Levi truly loved you, he made sure to tell and show you every day. He would never abandon you in a situation like this.
No.
He would not abandon you in any situation.
You took one last deep breath and came closer to his desk, standing behind his chair. Your hands slipped to his tensed shoulders gently massaging them. Levi let out a little sigh before leaning back and grabbing your hands from the front, pulling you closer.
„Should I go get us dinner?“ he asked and looked over his shoulder right into your eyes.
„Actually... could you come to the bathroom with me for a second?“ you asked with an innocent smile, brushing your lips against his ear.
He was genuinely surprised but didn’t say anything. His lips found yours in a quick kiss before he got up and let you lead him to the bathroom. The last rays of sunshine were illuminating the small room, reflecting off the full-length mirror in the corner. The one you needed for your little plan.
„Can you unbutton my shirt, please?“ you asked him, guiding his hands to the top button of your white shirt. Levi’s breath got caught in his throat, his hands shaking a little. It surprised you because he never was nervous in situations like this. He wasn't shy or hesitant when it was just the two of you.
You smiled at him, cupping his cheeks lovingly, and tasted his lips for a short moment. As you were about to pull away, Levi leaned closer and kissed you again. His fingers started to blindly unbutton your shirt – one little button after another. He didn't stop kissing you until your shirt was undone and your lungs were burning from the lack of air.
„Thanks, darling,“ you whispered and grabbed his hands, turning around. Facing the mirror you wrapped his arms around your waist and put his palms directly on your stomach. Nothing was out of the ordinary. For now.
„What are we looking at?“ Levi asked, kissing your shoulder. The two of you were almost the same height, which you found super adorable.
„As I said earlier... I was at the doctor today,“ you started carefully, leaning against his chest. His light grey eyes were carefully watching the both of you in the mirror. Your silhouettes joined in one in the rich orange hues of the setting sun. „And I’m okay, it’s nothing serious.“
You wanted to keep him calm and concentrated. Even more, as you could feel his heartbeat picking up against your back. But it still wasn’t pounding as hard as your own.
So many things could go wrong.
So many.
„But he told me something that... that...“
„You are pregnant,“ he said calmly, kissing you behind your right ear, his thumbs drawing small circles on your stomach. „I suspected it for a couple of days now but didn’t want to say anything. It wasn’t my call to make.“
You instantly turned around, meeting his eyes directly. „What? How?“ Levi smiled a little, sliding his hands into the back pockets of your pants.
„I’m not stupid.“
„I never said you were, Levi.“
He furrowed his brows, resting his forehead against yours. „Then why are you so surprised?“
It felt like you could finally take a breath after the whole day. Fear was slowly melting away, disappearing somewhere in the corner of the bathroom. Your husband didn't seem upset or annoyed. Not even irritated.
„Because even I didn’t think about pregnancy right away. Just then, after all of my symptoms started adding up.“ Levi carefully turned you around, both of you facing the mirror again. His hands came to rest on your stomach just like a couple of moments ago.
It all felt so right at that moment. His content expression, the love you could see in his eyes. And just him being there with you. Having a baby was a big thing, and there was no one else you could imagine doing this with.
„Were you scared to tell me?“ You nodded, leaning against his chest again. But more relaxed this time. A tiny smile started to form on your lips when you saw Levi grinning and shaking his head.
„Can you blame me? We never really talked about having kids and with everything that happened just a few days ago... I didn't feel like it was the right time.“
„There is no right time, my love. And there’ll never be.“
„What do you mean?“
„We can die any moment, you know that. And I do as well. Waiting for the right time would mean accomplishing nothing in this life.“
He was right. You knew that. It was never the right time. For anything. Just a year ago it wasn’t the right time for you to get married. So much was happening during those months and weeks. But the two of you did it anyway. After what happened in Shiganshina just shortly before, you didn’t want to waste more time.
Because if being a Scout meant dying for humanity at any given moment, you wanted to leave this life behind as Levi’s wife.
„Look, I’m internally freaking out, not gonna lie. And I suppose you are too.“ Levi slowly pulled away from you and made both of you slightly turn to the side, so you could still see your reflection in the mirror. While looking directly into your eyes he knelt, resting his forehead against your stomach. „But we can figure it out, right? We still have... how many months?“
Tears rolled down your cheeks without you even noticing first. But they were happy tears for sure. The weight of the world was slowly lifting from your shoulders as you looked down at your husband, sliding your fingers into his thick dark hair.
„Uhm... at least seven for sure, I’m about six or seven weeks now.“ If your calculations were at least a little bit correct. „But... anything can happen. Mostly these first few weeks.“
Yes, you were pregnant and your husband seemed delighted. But there was still no guarantee that at the end of this journey, you will hold a healthy baby in your arms. Your mother was pregnant once more after Moblit was born. You were six at that time, and your brother was just three years old. He was too little to remember the sibling that was never born. But you did and sometimes wondered how different your life would be if you had two younger siblings. How different your bond with Moblit would be.
„I’ll take the best care of you. Both of you, my love. I swear that on my life.“
„Levi...“
„We’ll both do our best so nothing bad happens. And if something comes up... well, then it was destined to be that way.“
You slowly sank to your knees before him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. Tears were still running down your cheeks, all of the emotions becoming just too much. Happiness. Fear. Anger. Disappointment. Excitement. All of them hit you simultaneously so you ended up like a sobbing mess on your husband’s shoulder while he was doing his best to comfort you.
Levi was silently whispering sweet nothings to you, rubbing your back and finally sitting down against the wall, cradling you into his warm embrace. Your shirt was still unbuttoned and your abdomen showing. That’s why you immediately felt him place his warm palm on your stomach, rubbing it carefully.
„I love you,“ he whispered as the last bits of the setting sun left the bathroom. Darkness was growing thicker all around you, but there was no need to fear.
Not when your husband was by your side.
To be continued...
Part III
#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x female reader#hange zoe#moblit berner#petra ral#aot x you#aot x reader#attack on titan#aot#shingeki no kyojin#snk
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Hey im not good with words or english, but its ok to feel burnt out or tired. Youre not obligated to provide anything to us. You are an author who writes for free. Maybe to have fun maybe to express yourself. You have your own life and thats a good thing. I havent been playing genshin in a while because theres so much work i need to do there like building characters. I havent watched link click s2 because i cant bring myself to sit down for that long. Im sure everyone has something like this happening to them and i just remind myself that it doesnt matter that much. Post unfinished things, make your character builds crap, dont finish a book youve started it doesntmatter. Its about having fun. Its about forgetting your problems(at least for me) or its about spending time with your online friends. Taking a break is necessary. Spending time for yourself is necessary. Taking care of yourself is necessary. I hope i could get my message across. I cant even take my own advice seriously as im too scared to post this without anon but i hope i was able to make you feel better somehow. I also want to say i really love your works even if i dont know who the person you’re writing about is. Ive been following your works for a while and i dont regret it one bit. I would be pretty sad if you were to stop writing for certain people but if it makes you feel happy then i dont mind and im sure others wouldn’t mind it as well. Youre free to do whatever you want ( as long as youre not intruding on other peoples freedom obviously) thank you for reading my wordvomit written in an attempt to comfort you.
dearie anon,
to have you in my inbox is already a blessing enough for me. thank you so much for taking the time of your day to cheer me up, you have no idea how much this means to me (brb crying i dont deserve you sob)
first of all, your message got across. i'm not sure about your english being not good part, but really, your message resonates with me on a level deeper than language can ever explain, truly.
i appreciate your kind reminder that i shouldn't feel obliged to write for anyone. i honestly feel like it's eating me out because i put myself in the equation as well. i had been a writer before, back when tokyo revengers (anime) was still in its first season since i'm more of a manga reader. if you were in that era, you might came across my work. alas, things happened. what used to be good memories (including writing) turned into very hurtful ones and i stopped doing what i love because they're causing me so much pain. nonetheless, i still slowly died inside. it took me a while to be at peace with my past and understand that writing is what makes me the person i am. so i'm determined to start again and keep it up. but when life gets in the way and hold me back from writing (again), it depresses me. (including not playing genshin). honestly, i'm feeling lonely. what and who i used to know and love seemed to only exist in the past. people moved on, topics became irrelevant, relationship broke. which i don't blame, but it still makes me cry once in a while.
sorry for the traumadump uh- i feel like i should explain myself a little. i hope that didn't scare you too much. but anyway, you're right! i should do whatever i want. maybe i need to reframe my perspective. i love that you mention about reading book thingy because i have the same issue and yes, i'm a reader through and through. but it's been so long since i read.. the irony. maybe all i need to do is start. and love myself a bit more to stop torturing myself with unnecessary thoughts..
you know what anon? i love the past me. i dont remember exactly what i love about her, but she used to be so at peace. i'm trying to find my way back to her, and i think you're helping me set my way there, so thank you. i dont know about your problems, but if you're willing to share, i'm more than happy to listen. don't forget to take care of yourself too okay? i hope your days ahead are the loveliest yet!
also, thank you for appreciating my works! when i started writing again, i told myself and whoever that's willing to take the time of their day to consume my content that i don't need anyone's attention or approval (shadowban be damned. if it happens, it happens). i did it solely for myself. but god knows how much your kind words and others' fill up the spaces in my heart.
i'm not going to ask anything from my works. your support is something i could never repay, but i'll always appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.
(btw yes, you did send this on anon hehe i got a hunch on who you might be but if you prefer to keep it a secret, then rest assured, your secret is safe with me!)
#no seriously anon#are you an angel????#also link click 2 is a pain to watch#please take your time to watch it#thank you once again anon for sending me this ilysm mwah mwah mwah!!#yoru's mailbox
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Dearest one, how are you today? I'm mostly well, possibly because I received some really good news from work - the last of my projects is in the green and almost done anyway. And of course, spending a big part of the day outside in the sun helped too! Glad to be back to work, but I admit, spending most of my day dozing and dreaming about you next to me, in my arms, your cheek upon my chest - it was a very pleasant way of spending time indeed, and I'm a little sad it's over. But! Not to worry, I still think of you as often as I can during my day, my boy!
Send me a song that's been on your mind recently, to keep me company and to feel you near me, if you wish, my boyfaun? - HWA
oh, sweetest love, i’m well, thank you!! i’m back at the flat just for a few days, which is nice after being away for so long :) it’s quiet, what with so many of my flatmates coming and going from home themselves, but it’s a joy to see those i’ve crossed paths with!! my journey was lovely, too, very peaceful. i’m currently drinking white wine in the sun, and thinking of you— i was just wondering if i’d be lucky enough to receive a love-letter today, and here you are, like magic 💓 oh, lover, that’s wonderful news, i’m so happy for you!! i know how worried you were about these projects, so it lights me up with joy to hear this :) and back at work, too, that’s wondrous to hear— i’m so glad the cold did not keep you bedbound for long, my loveliest one, my field-spirit!! how i wish i had been dozing at your side, heart, it has been a beautifully hot june day here, and i’ve been tempted to nap in the sunbeams more than once. did you really dream of me? oh, lover!! what an honour to appear in your dreamscape 💓 ah, a song, sweetest? certainly— ‘father neptune’ by connie converse has been on my mind for quite a while, it is a song that was dearly important to me a few months ago when i was still sorting out how i felt about being a pagan. the lyrics “i’m not a pious christian, and i do not go to mass / but i pray to father neptune to let him safely pass / i sing to the god with the three-pronged rod, and the whiskers wild and free / that i’ve got a man with a beard and a tan, and a passion for the sea” are so gentle to me :) i hope you enjoy, dear heart, how i treasure you!!
#answered#dearest love!! you always seem to write just when i’m thinking of you the tenderest 💓#herb wine anon
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‘tis the season
Description - the evolution of Christmas time with Harry
A/N - i hope this gets you in the festive spirit! hope you all have an amazing Christmas and i'm so thankful for each and every one of you for taking the time to read, comment and vote - it means a hell of a lot to me. so thank you and merriest of Christmas' xx <3
warnings : pregnancy, swearing
December 24th 2014
Every year it surprises you at just how busy the pub gets on Christmas Eve.
This year it was absolute chocker and you wondered how you'd ever gotten a table in the first place. It was so busy that crowds of people had to stand in the middle of the room just to have a drink. There were six bartenders behind the bar tonight and even that wasn't enough.
Electric is the only word good enough to describe the atmosphere in the room this evening. It was amazing. The sound of 'Last Christmas' by the infamous Wham! was echoing off the rugged, wooden, walls. It was buzzing in here and it made you beyond excited for Christmas Day.
Christmas Eve was always reserved for having a drink with your friends. It was family on Christmas Day and friends on Christmas Eve - at least that way the way your town did it. Your family normally end up coming to the same pub anyways, 'The Red Lion', but you'd be sat with different people. This year you were here with a group of girls from university, having graduated with them just this past year. They were your all-time best friends and people whom you would cherish in your life for decades to come. You'd already planned on returning to this pub when you're all married and have kids. It was going to become your thing.
Gavin was the pub owner and he was the loveliest guy around. He was best pals with your grandad, so it meant you often got free drinks on the house - no complaints there.
"I'll have a beer, again, please Katie." Grace ordered politely, seeing as Katie had offered to pay for the next round of drinks.
Out of the little group of you Katie was the kindest, always putting herself before others no matter what. Then there was Grace - the borderline alcoholic Irish - whom was a whole bunch of fun regardless what mood you were in. Last, but not least, there was Cara. Cara was, a bit like you, quiet before getting to know her and then out of nowhere she's an absolute crackhead. You wouldn't want them any other way, though.
You'd invited your girls up this year to spend your Christmas Eve traditions with you. You always raved on about your Christmases to them to the point where they wanted to come and experience one themselves. Grace had even postponed her plane home just to spend Christmas with you - now scheduled to fly out at 3am tomorrow.
"Yeah same here please Katie." You nodded, downing your current pint of beer.
"Sure. Cara?" Katie turned, knowing that Cara wasn't a beer drinker and she might want to slow down on the vodka if she wanted to remember Christmas.
"I'll just have water please. Think my mum would disown me if I was hungover on Christmas day." She laughed, causing the rest of you to join in. "Thanks, though, Katie."
And Katie was off to the bar in a jiff.
"Any plans for the new year, then, girls?" You asked them, taking the final swig of your drink before pushing it aside for the waitresses to take away.
"I'm going to the Bahamas with my family in January." Cara mentioned and suddenly you were very jealous of her. It's not like your family were poor or anything, but more that they like to spend their money on house renovations, and barn conversions, rather than going to a hot destination. Hot, beach, holidays weren't your thing either. You'd rather stay in cold England, feeling all snug next to your industrial fireplace, with a cup of your mums homemade hot chocolate and the best, new, book you could find.
"Kept that quiet, didn't you?" Grace teased, this being the first time you'd heard about her little excursion.
"Well I only found out a few days ago. In fact, it was the day when you were off with your boyfriend so I wasn't exactly going to interrupt your fun to tell you i'm off on me hols'." Cara responded back.
"Oh shut up, you." Grace stuck her middle finger up at her - everyone knowing it was just playful banter though.
An hour or so later and you'd all bought a round of drinks. Yours had been the first and Caras the last, and it was safe to say you were all buzzing now.
Whilst Grace and Cara got up to dance with a couple of guys, you and Katie stayed sat at the table chatting. Nothing too deep - just about how you were both going to be single forever. Katie had recently broken up with her girlfriend and was feeling sorry for herself, so you were her wingwoman for the evening. Unfortunately your town was only small and you couldn't think of anyone who'd be Katies type.
"Guys, c'mon dance. It's so fun!" Grace came stumbling over to the table, being the lightweight she is, and cheered in yours and Katies faces.
"In a bit, you absolute lightweight." You laughed at her, shaking ur head at what a mess she is.
"Promise?" Grace held out her pinky finger.
"Promise, Grace." Katie joined her pinky finger for you both, confirming that you'd be up on the dance floor in a bit. You weren't too thrilled, however, since your whole family was basically here. Your dad would never let you live it down if you started dancing. You had to carry on living here after tomorrow, unlike your best friends.
After Grace had left, you and Katie gave each other a look which meant that you definitely weren't getting up on the dance floor tonight - making you both laugh.
"Alright, i'm going to get another drink. You want anything?" You asked Katie, knowing that she was reaching her alcohol limit now. For Katie her alcohol would hit her all at once and she wouldn't even feel it coming, so she had to be careful with how much she drank.
"No i'm good thank you." She smiled, pulling out her phone as entertainment for the next five minutes whilst you were gone.
"Okay. Be back in five." You grabbed your purse and walked over to the bar, through the crowded room.
The bar wasn't too busy, but it was still a squeeze to get to the front. You managed to find a free barstool to sit on whilst you waited for a bartender. You knew they were very busy so you were perfectly happily waiting until they were ready.
This year had been a good year and you were very excited for Christmas tomorrow. You'd done last minute Christmas shopping today and eventually bought everything you needed. It had been a last minute scram to find a present for your mum, but she'd have to make do with the new Chanel perfume you bought for her. There was barely anything left on the shelves so perfume it was.
"Is anyone buying you a drink or can I do the honours?" You heard a voice from beside you. It intrigued you that someone was offering you a drink, normally you would have to buy the guy a drink to grab their attention.
You turned to your side to see who was offering and to say you were absolutely shocked was an understatement. This old town of yours rarely got any passers by so it was obvious to spot one if there was. This passer by in particular was a delightful surprise, however, because he just happened to be Harry Styles and you would be lying through your teeth if you said you hadn't romanticised yourself with him at some point.
Harry Styles was the most, if you were being old-fashioned, eligible bachelor in the entirety of the world and to have him asking to buy you a drink made you go slightly weak at the knees. You had to compose yourself to not look look mildly creepy, however.
You wanted to stare longer and ogle at his hypnotic eyes, his rosy lips, his blushing cheeks and his luscious curls, but you would definitely scare him away if you did. Therefore, unfortunately, you had to look away and internally scream to yourself - not wanting to make this a big deal in front of him.
"Well, actually, you're the first to ask me." You answered, putting what little bit of your ego you had to good use.
"I find that hard to believe, really." Harry emphasised.
He really did not understand how no other man had not swept you off your feet yet. He was half-sure that he'd walk over to you and then your husband or wife would pop around the corner. You were just lovely and gave Harry a warm feeling that he'd so deeply craved. He was so beyond glad that no significant other appeared, because that meant he got the open opportunity to flirt and get to know you.
"Oh I don't know." You laughed, not finding it that hard to believe.
"So is that a yes?" He cheekily smirked, saving buttering you up for later, nudging your arm with his elbow lightly making you chuckle.
"Yes, Harry, you can buy me a drink." You nodded and smiled at how relieved he looked. He pushed himself off the bar to turn around ready to order. Luckily the number of people ordering at the bar had decreased and it wasn't as swamped as before, making it easier for Harry to order.
"Oh so you know my name?" He smirked and raised his eyebrows. No one had yet recognised him in this pub so he wasn't expecting you to either. It was quite refreshing having barely anyone recognise him.
"Um, yes?" You slightly questioned, wondering whether he'd have preferred you not to know his name.
"You sound unsure." He teased, and you had every right to friendly punch him in the arm for being annoying. However, you didn't really want to go up against Harrys lawyers in court for physically abusing him, because god knows you'd lose and end up paying him thousands.
"I know who you are," You smiled, before coming up with your own witty reply, "unfortunately." With that comment he was gasping, surprised at how well he was playing you at your own game.
"Wow i'm hurt." He sarcastically said, resting his hand over his chest as if you'd just stabbed him through it.
"You still want to buy me a drink?" You asked, slightly nervous that you had maybe peeved him off. Yes, you knew Harry was a chill guy but how chill exactly he was was still unknown to you.
"And what does the lady drink?" Harry asked, waving his hand to catch Phil's, the best bartender you knew of, attention to come and serve him.
"Whatever you're having." You replied, watching as he inwardly bit his lip and shake his head at you.
"You're impossible, you are." He didn't take his eyes off yours as he spoke, allowing you to delve in to the depths of his mesmerising eyes.
"So i've heard." You bite back. Harry laughed before turning back around to Phil, who was now waiting for you both to order.
"You alright mate?" Phil asked, throwing a dirty tea towel over his shoulder that he'd just used to wipe down the bar area in front of you.
"Glass of Scotch Whisky each please." Pointing between you and him, which earned you a wink from Phil that didn't go unnoticed by Harry. He was going to question it, but thought it might be an inside joke between you and Phil.
"Any particular brand?" Phil asked.
"Surprise us." Harry gave his most charming smile.
"Coming right up, boss." Phil nodded and walked away to bring the order together. He walked over to Adam, who was another bartender that had been here for a long time, and you watched as Phil made it aware to Adam the interaction happening between you and Harry. Adam and Phil watched as you and Harry talked to each other, harmlessly flirting with each other.
You were worried for the moment when Harry would bring his girlfriend out from somewhere. Surely Harry wasn't single - not with how good he looked at such a charming age. He hadn't said anything that would put you off him, as of yet, and you thought the way he had with words was quite endearing.
The way that Harry kept eye contact with you whilst you were talking was both polite and intimidating. He never interrupted you when you were speaking, but it never felt like a one sided conversation either. He was just all round delightful.
"You can go sit back down if you want, i'll come over when i've paid for the drinks." Harry mentioned to you.
"I am sat with a bunch of girls though." You pointed out, wondering whether he'd even be comfortable with sitting with other people. He seemed like he was happy with anyone and everyone, and everyone seemed to like him the same.
"That's alright. I'll bring my lads over and we can all sit and chat together?" He offered, watching you climb off the bar stool and prepare to go back to your girls.
"Okay sure." You nodded in agreement and walked away from him, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.
As soon as you'd left him you let out a minor squeal, not being able to contain yourself any longer. You'd just met Harry Styles and he was buying you a drink and you were expected to keep calm - absolutely not. As long as you didn't break down in front of him you were all good.
Your friends were going to go bloody mental when they hear about this. Katie was as dedicated to Harry as you were, you both constantly watching interviews with him in. Now, you were going to have to play it lowkey if you didn't want Harry running straight back out the pub door.
You noticed that Katie was patiently waiting for you, phone flat on the table in front of her - it must've died. You felt slightly bad, knowing that you'd been longer than expected and you were coming back without drink.
"Where've you been?" Katie interrogated, noticing you'd come back from the bar empty handed.
"Meeting Harry Styles." You casually said, dropping the bomb out of nowhere. Katie laughed at you, shaking her head as if you'd lost your mind.
"Yeah and I just met Sarah Paulson." Katie followed your theme of talk and teased you that she'd just met her celebrity crush. Katie had loved Sarah for the longest time, and for secret santa last year Grace had gotten her a cardboard cutout of Sarah for Katie - the only problem was that she came as a 2ft cardboard cutout rather than the life-size one. It was embarrassing for Grace, but Katie loved her unconditionally.
"No, I seriously just met Harry." You desperately spoke, needing her to believe you now so you could calm her before he actually came over.
"Y/N. How many times do we have to tell you that you aren't in some Wattpad fan-fiction?" Katie asked, which made you stop to think that you sort of were living out a fan-fiction. You'd read many as a young child and your nose would grow like Pinocchios' if you said you didn't read some nowadays.
"Ah, you must be Katie?" Harry came from behind Katie. Katie didn't turn around at first, completely stuck to her current position. She couldn't believe that you hadn't been joking and Harry was actually behind her - she'd recognise that voice anywhere; that deep and gravely voice.
"No." Katie whispered in disbelief and you did nothing but nod your head. You still couldn't believe it either to be fair.
"No? Oh sorry, is it Cara or Gracie?" Harry fumbled, thinking he had successfully managed to match up their name to how you described them and their personalities. Katie was an introvert, so you described, and considering she was the only one not dancing he used process of elimination to figure it out - or so he thought.
"Yes this is Katie and it's Grace, not Gracie, Harry." You answered him, seeing as Katie was too starstruck to answer herself. Katie had gone slightly pale in the face, finally getting to meet one of her celebrity idols.
"Well it's lovely to meet you Katie." Harry finally moved his way in front of Katie, which is when she blushed bright red at how this situation was real. How you were staying completely calm was a complete mystery to Katie. You were the biggest Harry fan that Katie had ever met and so it was so confusing that you were calmer than her right now. She honestly expected you to be passed out on the floor.
"Likewise." Katie held out her hand for him as he put the drinks down on the table. "Do you two know each other or--" She looked so confused, because surely if you'd just met you wouldn't be as stable as you were right now.
"Just met." You and Harry both spoke at the same time, causing you to smile at each other with such grossly loving eyes.
Yes you'd just met, and even though it's cringe to say, but you definitely could see yourself having another Christmas with Harry,
•••••
December 24th, 2015
The one thing you were most proud of this year is that you'd actually bought all your gifts on time.
Normally you were the last minute Christmas shopper, buying any last thing that was left on the shelf. One year you went shopping on Christmas Eve in the evening, but my-oh-my will you never be doing that again. You came away from that shopping trip with more bruises than a peach could ever harbour.
This year, you were well pleased with your organisation. You reckon it has something to do with dating Harry.
On March 14th 2015 you could officially label yourself as Harrys girlfriend and my oh my was that a feeling. You were shocked that he'd even bought you a drink, let alone asked you to be his girlfriend. You were actually hesitant in saying yes, surprisingly, because of all the extra baggage that came with dating Harry Styles. Harry, being his average charming self, had managed to persuade you that he was worth it - and by god was he right. You couldn't ask for him to treat you any better.
Every morning he'd send you a morning message, regardless of whether he was feeling low. Every Saturday he took you on date night and in all the months up till now you'd still not had a repeat of a date - every Saturday had been something different and you were really impressed. He would bring your flowers on your worst days and your best days. He would call when he was bored and he would answer when you were. He was a complete gentleman and you felt honoured to be trusted with his heart.
Your favourite thing he'd done is suggest that you go back to the pub for Christmas this year. You'd explained once or twice how your Christmas' usually run, but never thought he'd pick up on quite how important they were to you. He did listen though, very carefully.
Harry had slightly helped by keeping you on your toes, this year, continuously asking whether you'd got your presents yet and that you needed to make a list of who to buy for. A more pushing reason to start early, though, was because you hadn't got a clue what to get Harry. No doubt he'd bought you something expensive, but your budget laughed at you for ever thinking you could do the same.
You'd started by buying your mum and dad their Christmas presents first, getting them out of the way. Next, you bought Cara, Grace and Katie their presents - whom were impossible to buy for by the way, because they were so indecisive about what they wanted. Harry was the last person you were buying for and you were terrified in case you bought something stupid, however you think you might've done okay.
The two of you were currently sat in a corner booth in The Red Lion, sharing a bottle of Scotch Whisky between you, and opening each others presents. Well, you would do if Harry wasn't so handsy with you. The alcohol made him go softer than ever and pushed him to kiss you more. You weren't complaining but you did want him to open his gift now.
His present to you had been a key to an apartment. He told you that he knew it was a massive step, but it wasn't a decision that had to be made right away. He would rent it out for the time being, until you decided what you wanted to do. The ball was in your court and whenever you were ready, was when he was.
You truly did love Harry.
"Please can you open my gift now, Harry?" You begged, pushing his face away from your neck, which was already embarrassingly bruised from the night before. He had gone a little wild last night, and it was an interesting story he told you dad about the origin of the bruise earlier on this evening. Your dad obviously knew what it was, but just wanted to test Harrys respect towards you - which he passed with flying colours.
"Okay, baby." Harry chuckled, knowing you were desperate.
He picked up the neatly wrapped gift and wondered what it could be. It was wrapped very small and it was very light, so he knew that it couldn't be too expensive. He didn't give a tosh about price though, he had you and that was more than enough.
He carefully opened the gift, preserving the wrapping like he always did. He even stuck the little ribbon in your hair to tie up properly later. He read the card with such care, reading over every word and crying towards the end. Your goal hadn't been to make him cry, but it made you happy to see him so emotionally attached to you. Once the wrapping was off he was taken aback by the gift. He'd expected a DIY gift or a ticket to dinner or a football game, but no.
You'd managed to buy him the CD that he always listened to with his grandad at Christmas time. His grandad had passed a few years ago and Harry told you of what a great man he was, along with all the adventurous stories that came with him. He sounded a delight of a man and it was shame you could never meet him, but you always remember of one story Harry had told to you. One that stuck. It was about how Harry and his grandad would put on this particular Christmas CD and sit and listen to it on Christmas Eve until the clock struck midnight. Harry continued the tradition even after his grandad died, until he lost the CD.
"I don't even know what to say--" He was gobsmacked that you'd even found such a thing. He'd been so upset that he'd lost the old one - that had been gifted to him by his late grandad - and now he had a new one. It was beautiful, like the soul of the woman that bought it for him.
"Just say whatever." You shrugged, knowing exactly what he wanted to say but was just a little scared of scaring you off with his words. You were ready though. It was the next big chapter in both of yours lives, and you were moving on together. You moved in close to him, wanting to feel you him as near as possible as he whispered the words you'd waited an entire lifetime to hear.
"I love you, Y/N." Harry whispered over your lips.
"I love you too, Harry." Before you sealed your lips to his and for the rest of the evening.
•••••
December 24th, 2017
To say this would be the Christmas you were looking forwards to the most was an understatement.
In a little under a year of being engaged and married you had moved London permanently, wanting to start your new life in a permanent location. You had suggested living in Holmes Chapel, wondering whether it might be nice to start new life where Harry was close to home, having been away from it for so many years, but he was more keen on living in London instead. So London it was.
Your house was a beautiful, white, town house in Kensington. It had majestic ivy growing up the walls at the front of the house, giving off a fairytale aura to the property. You'd always dreamt of living in a house like this, but had never had the money to buy it. Of course you contributed towards the house mortgage and so forth, but Harry did do a lot more - he was just too kind like that. You had saved up a bit of money from the various jobs you'd undertaken over the years, and the money your parents had given to you as their marriage present to you both, and so used that to put the deposit down on the house.
However, Harry wouldn't let you work anymore and not because he wanted you to be a stay at home wife whilst he worked. It was because you were a mum now.
Asher Robin Styles.
On your honeymoon you and Harry were desperate to start family life. Harry was willing on putting everything on hold to begin a family with you - you deserved that much, he knew. He announced that he would be having a break from music the moment you found out that you were pregnant. He had been over the moon. You remember telling him, so casually, one night in bed that he'd be a dad this Christmas and at first he didn't believe you. When he realised you weren't messing, though, it was the most beautiful moment between you and he ended up loving on you until the sun rose.
Baby Asher was born 19th December 2017, weighing 5.7 lb. He was the tiniest little boy and one that had already captured yours and Harrys hearts forever. He had had a few birth complications, due to being quite small for his gender and age, but he was the happiest little chap and slept like an angel. He was yours and Harry’s Christmas miracle.
This year, although going to the pub would've been the ideal, you decided it might be best having a quieter Christmas. A lively pub, with loud music and lads might not be the best idea for a 5 day old baby - or a newly post-pregnant woman. So, instead, you were having Christmas at Anne's.
Harry had been taking care of you like the perfect husband he is. Not once had he complained about anything. Apart from the breast feedings that you did, he didn't really want you doing anything else. He did the washing and ironing. He did the cooking. You'd only last night managed to persuade him that you were fine doing the washing up. He was just worried that you might overwork yourself and split something open - which you'd assured him wouldn't happen. Nothing could be worse than pushing a football sized baby out of your vagina.
Today was the day you were travelling to Anne's and you were very frantic. You were currently running around your bedroom, packing the last bits. Someone would think you were moving house if they saw your luggage, not popping a hundred miles up North for a few, Christmas, days. Harry was pulling on a t-shirt as you were flitting between suitcases.
"Okay I packed his sleeping blanket and a sick blanket, but do you think I should pack an extra just in case? Oh and what about his beanie hats? I packed the three your mum has knitted, but should I bring the one Jules, from the bakery, gav--"
"Babe you need to calm down, okay?" Harry embraced you in his arms, wanting you to calm down. Stress wasn't good for a new mum, and he didn't need you unwell over Christmas. Of course he'd love an excuse to fuss and love over you, but not when he could do something to prevent you from being ill in the first place.
"But—" You sighed in to the warmth of his neck, smelling the infamous 'Tobacco Vanille' perfume he still wore after all these years.
"No. Asher will have enough hats from the ones that mum made and mum can wash the blankets if needs be, okay? Just relax with me for a moment, Y/N/N." Harry didn't ask you, but instead told you. You knew that he was right and it was just the baby brain messing with you.
"I just want Asher's first Christmas to be perfect." You sighed, letting Harry guide you to the bed to sit down upon. He collapsed first, before you joined to sit on his lap. He was so comfortable that you had to resist pushing you both to lay down and sleep forever. Asher was a good baby when it came to sleeping during the night, but boy did he wake up early. Harry was used to 7 o'clock rises at the earliest, but half 4 in the morning was something new.
You wouldn't wish for him any other way, though.
"It will be, babe. I promise." Harry concluded that conversation, knowing you felt calmer than before. Whatever he was doing, which even Harry wasn't sure what, was working. You felt more peaceful by the second and kissed his neck a few times in thanks for being so wonderful.
"It'll be weird not being at the pub this year. It's my first year without it." You sadly told Harry, even though you knew this Christmas would trump all the others.
"It will, but we'll make it work." Harry reassured you, knowing that you'd feel a bit sad being away from your side of the family for this Christmas. Harry knew that you would choose him over your family any day of the year though, and it was true. You loved Harry a lot, and you loved Asher too - maybe even a little bit more - so Christmas this year, with them both, was a dream come true.
Christmas traditions had always been the same. It had always been a L/N family tradition to spend Christmas Eve in the pub and raise a drink, or two, to each other for celebrating another year of joy, happiness and good health. You'd never missed one, even if you had a deathly cold, and neither had your mum or dad or even Phil the bartender, so it would be sad to miss it this year. That wasn't to say you were excited for this year - not at all.
This year would be amazing.
Anne had informed you that she'd made cinnamon rolls for when you arrive, fresh out of the smoking oven. Anne had freshly made the bed, filled with blankets and warmth, and had bought a cot just to put in your room, for Asher, so he was close by. Gemma and Michal would be there too, joining in on the festivities. No one, except you and Harry, had met baby Asher, yet, so Anne was past the point of being just excited - she was eager. After today Asher would no longer just be for yours and Harrys eyes and hands. After today Asher will have met his grandma, his aunty and his uncle all in one day. You just prayed he was on his best behaviour.
"I know. I'm sorry." You apologised, being stopped by Harry's strong arms when he felt you moving away. If you were still upset he wasn't letting you go so easily.
"Hey, what are you sorry for?" He cupped your soft cheek and looked in to your eyes to find an answer. He could see that you were deeply sorry for something, but he just couldn't figure out what.
"For being a little negative about this new idea of Christmas. I didn't mean to be, so I apologise. I'm really looking forwards to seeing your mum and maybe visiting her can be our new family tradition?" You asked hopefully, wanting to turn the negatives in to positives. When you saw the tears build in the corners of Harrys eyes you got worried that you'd upset him, but he was quick to speak before you could apologise again.
"I love you, Y/N." He smiled so brightly that it could've blinded you if you weren't so used to it. He was so happy to hear you talk about new family traditions, with your family. He was still stuck on the fact he'd managed to pick you up in that bar, let alone get you to say yes to being his girlfriend, becoming his wife and having his baby.
"I love you too, H." You replied, not because you had to but because you truly meant it. He was your everything and you'd remind him of that every day if you wanted to, for as long as you live. A few little cries came from the corner of the room and you chuckled to Harry, just as he was about to kiss your lips, signifying that Asher had woken up and wanted attention. You carefully dismounted from around Harry and walked over to the cot.
"We love you too, baby Styles. We hadn't forgotten about you, my little love." You picked him up carefully, still being extra careful with him due to his shear fragile size. You walked him over to Harry, his face carefully nestled in the crook of your neck, whilst his body came no lower than the bottom of your boobs. He was the most delicate, most handsome and most wonderful human being you'd ever come across and he was all yours.
"Hey little man. You feeling a bit left out? Is that why you're upset? Hey?" Harry repeatedly asked his son questions, fully aware he wouldn't respond. Asher couldn't even lift his head to face his dad at this point, so you did the job for you and as soon as he saw his dad his giggles started. "There's my cheeky chappy." Harry excitedly spoke to Asher, taking him out of your arms to hold him close in yours instead.
"Just give me a couple more minutes and i'll be ready to set off." You told Harry, moving in to the bathroom to grab a couple more things.
"No problem, my love. Me and the little lad will just discuss the latest footie match whilst we wait, won't we?" Harry spoke in his most dad voice he could put on. Watching the two interact was a feeling you couldn't even describe. They were like salt and pepper them too - completely inseparable - and it was a blessing to watch.
A 3 hour car journey later and you were at Annes.
The journey had been a success. You'd only had to stop off once for a toilet break and a second time for Asher's feeding time. Asher, otherwise, had been silent the whole way there. Harry, being the over-protective dad that he is, at one point, pulled over to make sure he was still breathing he was that quiet - and of course he was. You teased Harry that all the football talk had put him to bed.
"Home." Was Harry's first word when he pulled up on Annes driveway. You looked over at him to see him proudly staring at the house - the house that Harry had been able to buy for his mum due to his immense fame and fortune. It wasn't, in your opinion, better than your house back in London, however.
It didn't take Anne long to run down the driveway and wait for your excitedly outside of the car. It was freezing outside and it must've been the adrenaline keeping her warm, because you swore your toes had turned to icicles the second you stepped out of the car.
"Oh Y/N! You're looking amazing!" Anne commented, cupping your cheeks, like all mothers do, to admire how radiant and glowing you were. For someone who had given birth five days ago, you did a marvellous job of making yourself look put together. Your skin was shining and your eyes were brighter than ever - all because of your bundle of love. Your Asher.
Whilst you spoke to Anne briefly, Harry took to his dad duties and unstrapped Asher's car seat from the back and took him out so that he could be introduced to his grandma. Even though he was deep asleep, and most likely would be for another two hours, Anne could still meet him. He was wrapped up in a heap of blankets, like a burrito, and you were so jealous of him in that moment. You were wearing a dress and thick tights too, so you shouldn't have been as cold as you were.
"Hi mum!" Harry spoke excitedly, carrying his son in the car seat proudly on his forearm. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas H!" Anne kissed his cheeks twice, making up for all the times she couldn't. "Oh, Harry, look at him. He's beautiful. Oh, i'm going to cry." Anne didn't hesitate for a second to introduce herself to her grandson. He was the yummiest fella in the world, according to Anne and the fact she cried was a true testament to what a superb grandmother she was going to be. Anne commented on how much he looked like Harry, which is exactly what you'd been saying, but Harry disagreed. He thought he had your face shape, but you and Anne agreed that Harry had baby brain and didn't know what he was on about.
Christmas was beyond all expectations.
Gemma and Michal came an hour after you'd arrived, letting you all settle in before harassing you and the baby any more than they knew Anne would already be. You all shared your recent memories with each other over hot chocolate and a cinnamon bun. Everyone was just so happy. Gemma and Anne got a lot of cuddles with the little man himself, and he was enjoying all the attention. He was so good and was on his best behaviour, only crying once when he was overdue a feed that you'd so stupidly forgotten.
You'd gone for Christmas Eve walk all together, popping in to some of Harrys neighbours houses for a quick hello and a mice pie or two. Everyone was infatuated with Asher, claiming he was the most precious baby they'd ever seen and every time Harry would say "that's because he's got a smoking hot mum." You found the whole atmosphere so magical that you were seriously thinking never returning to the pub tradition ever again.
The whole day had been a blessing and it was simply perfect.
The food was out of this world. The games that you all played were belly achingly funny. The drinks that you shared were gone within hours - Gemma doing most of the work since you'd gone off wine since being pregnant.
At the end of the evening you were both tightly wrapped in between the sheets of the guest bedroom. All the wine had been drunk. All the food had been eaten. But there were still so many laughs and stories to be shared. This Christmas would create a whole lot of stories for you to share in the future, that's for certain.
"Merry Christmas, H." You whispered, completely in awe of him and how amazing he'd been recently.
"Merry Christmas, love." He looked to you as soon as the words left your mouth, finally admitting that he was at peace with himself and his life amongst the crazy life that being a multi-millionaire rockstar brought him. "And we love you too, you rascal." Harry smiled at Asher, who was tucked, snug as a bug, in the cot.
"Kiss me?" You sort of asked, wondering whether he might be too tired to do so. He had been on his feet all day, running around after his mum so she didn't have to do so much and trying to get you to stay sat down. You were a handful sometimes, but he admired your stubborn nature more than anything - it gave him a challenge and he liked proving you wrong.
"You don't have to ask me twice, babe." He chuckled, before leaning in to lock his lips with yours and pull you as close as possible as he could to his bare chest. The room soon became hot, under all the blankets, no thanks to your lustful evening with each other but it had been a long week and you decided that you both deserved a little bit of something from each other - especially since you'd decided Asher was your Christmas present this year.
You both started to fall asleep with the soft sounds of a certain CD playing in the background Christmas had changed, but you were beyond excited to change with it.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#finelinevogue#harry blurb#finelinevogue harry styles#harry oneshot#harry styles concept#tis the season#ficmas#christmas harry styles#christmasrry#harry styles christmas fic
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· I Don't Go In For Sweets ·
Request: by a lovely anon "set after the events of season 3. Tommy can't handle the company, he's still grieving and he has to be there for Charlie so Polly tells him she knows a girl from a good family to get married He ends up agreeing (aunt Pol can be very persuasive) but even though he's married, this new girl isn't considered as a wife. He doesn't really make any effort but his "wife" understands, he's a widowed father who lost his first wife only a year ago. However since they are...in this, she wants to make her time as enjoyable as possible for the both of them and for Charlie too. But no matter what Tommy makes it a point of honor to not let her in, to not let her replace Grace so he ignores her, he works more, tries to spend as little as possible in the house. Reader stays patient, it will be alright and Charlie is making her quite busy anyway. One night, Tommy comes home completely drunk and maybe a bit high too, he can't even make it to his office. Thankfully Reader is still awake, she takes care of him and Tommy just...melts at how gentle Reader is, he may be able to keep his distant while sober but it's much harder in his state. He admits to her how he's been feeling and all. Ever since that night, something changed, Tommy feels some comfort, some solace being around her, she accepts him wholly, even his flaws, the bad side of his business and she tries to provide some sort of safe place for when it gets too hard." (I edited the request because it was very long, but I kept all essential parts in there)
Author’s note: I loved loved loved writing this and it ended up being SUPER long, but I’m very happy with how it turned out. As always, I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days!
Warnings: season 3 SPOILERS sort of, but not really, still read at your own risk. Arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drugs, angst.
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“Thomas, you may not be able to see it, but you’re breaking apart” Polly spoke with a sigh as she lit a cigarette after everyone was dismissed from a family meeting.
Everyone had left Tommy’s office in arrow house rather gaily after receiving their fair compensations for partaking in the whole Russian ordeal, all except Polly, who remained where she sat, wishing for a word with her nephew
Tommy merely scoffed at her concern before lighting his own cigarette and taking a puff “I’ll be alright”
“And Charlie?” Pol pressed knowing Tommy’s mourning was not only affecting him, but Charlie as well. “What about him?”
“He’s fine” He said before turning around to look through the window, ignoring his Aunt’s heavy stare.
“You take too much after your mother” she sighed half angry half sad “she too loved pretending everything was alright and I don’t need to remind you where that lead her”
Tommy sighed deeply, he knew he could fool anyone. Anyone but Polly. “We’ll manage”
“Consider my offer” Polly said standing up and making her way to the door “Y/n is a good girl from a good family” she persuaded before leaving the room.
Tommy sighed at his Aunt’s words, he wasn’t ready to get married again even when he knew the woman he would be marrying was a nice one. He felt like he was spitting on Grace’s grave and he hated himself for even considering the prospect, but he knew a mother figure would be good for Charlie.
He spent the rest of the day pondering about Polly’s suggestion and remembering his own childhood in the shadow of the absent tortured presence that his mother had been. It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want that for Charlie, so that same night he phoned Polly.
“I’ll do it” was all he said before hanging up. There was no need for more words, Polly would know exactly what he meant.
Exactly a week later, Tom was standing in the altar of a church that was significantly smaller than the one from his first wedding. The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit. And as he stood there he couldn’t keep his mind from traveling to the days leading up to his wedding to Grace. She had made sure everything was perfect and had made an effort to invite every single relative she could think of. She remembered her rambling on an on about fabrics, insisting that everything ought to be perfect when he in all honestly couldn’t care less, he just wanted to marry her.
All his thoughts vanished away with a poof when Y/n came into sight. And what a sight she was. She had insisted on doing her own makeup and on pinning flowers to her hair to compliment her headpiece and her elegant, yet simple white dress flowed almost mystically as her father gave her away. She had never imagined she would be marrying someone she didn’t know, but she wanted to look her best for getting married is not something people do everyday.
When she stood in the altar, she offered her to be husband a smile which he did not return, instead turning his attention to the priest before them. She mirrored his actions, her heart beating violently under her chest as the priest began speaking.
It all felt like a blur, she could swear it had only been a second since her father had given her away and yet, the priest had already uttered the dreaded “you may now kiss the bride”
Tommy barely brushed his lips against hers and soon the sound of everyone clapping invaded her ears. They had a small party afterwards in Y/n’s former house. Her parents had invited pretty much all of their acquaintances while tommy had only invited his close relatives.
When night fell Tommy was more than ready to leave “Are you ready to go?” was one of the few sentences he uttered to his now wife that night.
She again offered him a smile before saying “yeah just let me say goodbye”
The drive to arrow house was tense, although Y/n didn’t know Thomas very well she would tell he was unhappy. She wondered about what to say to him, but couldn’t come up with anything good enough and soon enough they were pulling over in front of Tommy’s stately home.
“Charlie must already be asleep, but I'll introduce you tomorrow” he said opening Y/n’s door for her.
“It’s alright” she said looking at him, not quite knowing what to do next.
“Your parents sent some of your belongings, I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” he said
“Thank you, Thomas” she smiled as she walked into the big house not yet feeling close enough to him to call him Tommy.
His name falling from her lips caused an echo of bittersweet emotions to stir inside him but he masked it perfectly well as she introduced Y/n to the maids that went to the door to take their coats.
“Frances here will show you the way to the room” he said after having made introductions.
“This way, Mrs” Frances politely said.
Y/n began following her but stopped when she didn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps behind her own.
“Are you not coming?” she asked turning to look at him.
“Maybe in a bit” was all he said before he walked away down one of the many spacious hallways of the house.
After Y/n made herself comfortable in the room and changed into her nightgown she took the time to peek around the room like one always does when one is a strange place. After familiarizing herself with it she laid down in the big bed. She was nervous, she knew what happened on wedding nights. A small chuckle stopped at her lips when she recalled the stories her close already married girlfriends told her. If she hadn’t married a complete stranger she too would be looking forward to it.
Her thoughts ended up luring her to sleep after a while despite her nerves and the night went by in a ridiculously fast flash. The next morning she woke up alone and after getting ready she made her way downstairs. Tommy and Charlie were already in the dining room when she entered it.
“good morning” she said
Charlie immediately turned his attention to her, his eyes widening while his dad merely glanced at her while he muttered a “Good morning “ of his own.
Y/n sat down next to Tommy while he cleared his throat “charles, this is Y/n. We got married yesterday so she’ll be living with us from now on”
Charlie merely nodded in understanding before playing around with his food.
A tense air flooded breakfast until Tommy stood up, having barely touched his food and spoke turning to look at Y/n “I have to go now, if you need anything feel free to ask Frances”
“Alright” Y/n replied feeling a bit disappointed, she would love to get to know him, but she already knew it was going to be difficult.
“I have to go too” Charlie announced in a timid voice, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts. Despite her disappointment she understood, maybe he was just shy and his dad just reticent. They had lost a wife and a mother after all.
The first few days after that, Charlie avoided her nearly as much as his father did and Y/n remained in lonely patience until one night Charlie’s cries interrupted her focus on the book that she had just bought. She rushed to his room and called out his name as she entered not knowing if the boy would be comfortable with her or not.
“What is it?” she asked worried as she knelt by his bed.
“I miss my mum” the boy confessed looking at her with teary eyes as he clutched his blanket.
Y/n felt her heart give a small ache at his confession and in an attempt to comfort him she spoke “She’s not really gone, you know?”
“She’s dead” the boy sobbed.
“but people who die, don’t leave us. Not really anyhow” she said hesitantly rubbing his arm. “just because we cant see them doesn’t mean they are not here”
“I miss seeing her” he continued.
“Oh but you can still see her”
“how”
“before you go to bed just think about her, then she’ll visit you in your dreams” Y/n spoke as if she was telling a fairy tale.
“really?” the boy’s eyes widened.
“really” Y/n confirmed “But you have to think really really hard”
“I’ll try” Charlie said having calmed down a bit.
“very well” Y/n said as she stood up, but Charlie’s voice stopped her.
“can you stay till I fall asleep?”
After that night, Charlie hardly left Y/n’s side and she felt much better with his company for she was sure if he wasn’t there keeping her on her toes all day she would fall into a depressive chasm induced by her husband’s absence.
On the rare moments he was home she tried to strike up conversation with him over breakfast or late at night when he came home and she was burdened by insomnia. But Tommy only humored her with a few short responses before excusing himself or turning to face the other side of the bed.
It wasn’t only the fact that he avoided her as much as he could, but he also made it a priority to exclude her at all times. She was never invited into family meetings or night’s at The Garrison so she thought it was a miracle when tommy didn’t oppose to her planning Charlie’s birthday party.
She invited only Tommy’s family which instantly warmed up to her, noticing what a good influence she was and Polly wanted to slap Thomas for the way he had been acting throughout his marriage to Y/n. Almost feeling guilty for getting her into this mess.
When the party ended Tommy shut himself in his office like he often did when he was at home and though he had never given Y/n a reason to believe she was welcome in there of all places, she found herself allowing herself in after putting Charlie to bed.
Tommy looked up as she entered and let out a sigh before turning his attention back to some papers he had been reading.
“I noticed you didn’t have any” she commented not letting his sigh deflate her as she laid a plate with a slice of homemade chocolate cake on his desk. “it’s really good if I may say so myself” she mused sitting down in a chair opposite to his as she dug in with a fork in her own slice.
“I don’t go in for sweets” he stated.
“Not even chocolate?” Y/n tried, but tommy didn’t answer, instead he just shook his head.
“I still think you should try it, it’s not overly sweet, and…”
“is there anything you need?” he interrupted bluntly a bit harsher than he would’ve liked.
His tone caught her off guard and when she couldn’t come up with an answer tommy again turned his attention back to his papers.
“I wish you could let me in” She softly confessed after a few tense seconds.
“Well I wish we hadn’t married but I guess things don’t always go the way we want them to go”
Tommy knew he had crossed a line by the silence that again settled into the room. He looked up at Y/n with her parted lips and misty eyes. They exchanged glances for a second but instead of allowing him to see her like that any longer, she stood up setting her plate on his desk and walked away, only allowing a few tears to drop by when she was out of the room and his sight.
After that she stopped trying to get closer to him. He still loved his late wife and she understood, people in grief never mean what they say after all, but his words stung nonetheless.
She stopped trying to wait for him at night to see if he had gotten home alright and during breakfast she only uttered polite good mornings.
One night however, Y/n was yanked out of a peaceful sleep by a loud crash. She was on her feet in no time and after checking into Charlie’s room to see if he was alright she cautiously ventured downstairs. A few incoherent mumbles filled her ears before her husband came into sight, fumbling with his coat to get it off.
“need help?” she asked earning his attention.
“I’m fine” he said finally taking it off but as he went to take a step to begin walking the floor under him moved and he lost his balance, his knees crashing loudly against the wooden floor.
Y/n offered him a hand and helped him up. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands were shaky, consequence of the snow, no doubt. “let’s get you upstairs”
“I can do it on me own” he slurred letting go of her hand.
“stop being so stubborn” she derided, snaking one of her arms around his waist as she helped him upstairs.
Y/n helped him into bed, tookoff his shoes and went to the bathroom to fetch a small towel and some cold water.
She dampened the towel with the cold water before dabing it gently on Tommy’s forehead. His eyes never leaving her face as she did so, making her grow a bit nervous. She continued, trying her best to ignore it until she felt his hand softly caressing her cheek.
“You are beautiful” he rasped.
“Stop it, Thomas” she said feeling her cheeks grow red when she felt a bit sad that he had to be completely drunk to compliment her.
Even in his drunken state he seemed to notice he was making her uncomfortable so he held his tongue until Y/n laid in bed next to him after turning on the lights.
“I’m sorry” he interrupted the silence “For the way I’ve been acting” the whiskey and cocaine making him more vulnerable and open “I guess I was afraid that if I let you in then she would disappear”
He didn’t expect her to answer, but then her voice came in a soft exhausted tone“ I don’t intend to replace her. You don’t need to act all defensive and secretive. Even if it’s not what you wanted, we are married.”
“I Know” was all he said.
Y/n expected him to withdraw more from her after showing himself that vulnerable to her that night but she was wrong. He began arriving home earlier, sometimes even asking if he could come along on the walks she and Charlie so much adored going on. And Y/n finally felt her marriage was going somewhere maybe it wasn’t based on love yet, but it was something.
One day she was at the stables while Charlie was taking a nap. She had always adored horses.
“I didn’t know you liked horses” came Tommy’s smooth voice causing her to jump.
“You never asked” she smiled petting a black horse as he walked closer to her.
“We could go out for a ride, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind letting you borrow his horse” Tommy offered as he too began to pet the horse, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s for a brief second.
“I’d love to, but I am afraid I don’t know how to ride, Tommy” she said, panicking for a second after having called him that. But she rested assured as soon as he spoke again.
“Well that can be fixed” he said opening the door of the stall and guiding the horse outside.
“You mean now?” Y/n asked with a laugh.
“Got something better to do?” he asked walking out of the stable with the horse. Y/n observed tommy as he prepared the horse. She had never seen him so gentle and calm before and she only realized she had been staring when Tommy directed his attention to her to ask her if she was ready.
“I think so” she said going to stand next to the horse wondering how the hell to climb up. But before she had any more time to think she felt Tommy’s hands on her waist giving her a push that allowed her to pull herself up on the animal. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear slacks that day, she thought.
“Goodness this is high” she said nervously looking down at Tommy when he began guiding the horse to move in a slow walk.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he promised repressing a mirthful tone at her nervousness.
He guided the horse with her around the property in the crisp evening air and Y/n allowed herself to relax with every step the horse took. Tommy’s presence made her feel safe and protected and she found it increasingly harder to look away from his figure. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him.
When the sky began turning soft shades of purple and orange the pair returned to the stables. When the time came from Y/n to come down from the horse, tommy helped her again. Y/n began to love the feeling of him touching her and when her feet touched the ground in front of Thomas, he didn’t remove his hands from her waist right away and instead fixed his blue eyes on her, not wanting to stop looking at her.
She too fixed her eyes on Tommy as she felt a silent gasp in the base of her throat. That was the way she would’ve liked him to look at her on their wedding day. Tommy then leaned in, almost as if he were asking for permission before he tenderly pressed his lips to Y/n’s.
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@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03
#tommy shelby request#tommy shelby#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby one shot#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby request#thomas shelby one shot#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby angst#peaky blinders angst#peaky blinders request#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders one shot#peaky blinder one shot#peaky blinder imagine
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Birthday surprise // Niall Horan x singer! Reader
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: none
A/N: Since it's officially my birthday week and Niall's has just passed, I decided to write this very self-indulgent fic (even though I can't sing, but a girl can dream </3). I mostly wrote this for myself because I adore this human with my whole heart. Anyways hope someone will enjoy this fic just as much as I did writing it.
Finishing the first two songs, you chat a little with your fans. Noticing some of the signs they brought with them to get you to notice them, some of them making you laugh, while some of them made your heart clench with love. Sitting down at the piano, starting to play 'champagne problems'. While you were in the happiest relationship to date now, you still had some issues with your past relationships, where you were made the villain and them a victim when in reality it was the literal opposite. Niall was the blessing you were praying for. So what if you were fucked in the head? Niall loved you just the way you were.
Your birthday was coming up, and you were going to spend it while being in one of the cities you absolutely love touring in – Dublin. Although you were heartbroken because this will be the first birthday you were going to celebrate without your boyfriend, Niall. Ever since you've known him, you celebrated both of your birthdays with one another. His tour lead him to being in America during your birthday, which really sucked. You were both bummed out about it, he even offered to reschedule that concert, so he can be with you in Dublin, maybe even visit his family whilst already being in Ireland, you told him no. You didn't want to be selfish just because it's your birthday. Talking on the phone with him right from the moment he was awake (which was already in the afternoon for you). '' It feels weird to not be with you on your birthday, how will I survive without my birthday kisses and hugs from you? '' you ask while pouting. Niall chuckled and mimicked your put. '' I will give you your birthday kisses and hugs as soon as I see you. With extra ones for each day between your birthday and the day we see each other again. I promise. '' he gives you a smile. And you just pout harder. '' I really miss you. I can't wait to see you soon. '' checking the time, you realize it's almost time for you to start getting ready. '' Hey baby, I have to go start getting ready soon. I'll make sure Jenna calls you to FaceTime and shows you at least some concert if you're not busy. I love you and I miss you. '' as you say that, you hang up and quickly text your makeup artist, she can come over. Two minutes later, her and Jenna (your assistant and close friend) are in your dressing room, and you're getting ready. An hour later, you were done with your makeup and hair and all that was left was to put on your outfit. Ten minutes later, you were slowly making your way towards stage. Quickly texting Niall another I love you, and wishing him good luck on his own show later, you were off on the stage, the intro of your song' dress' starting to play as you were brought onto the stage. Let the fun begin.
After champagne problems, one of your favourite songs you wrote was next.
''... Don Perignon you brought it, no crowd of friends applauded
your hometown sceptics called it, champagne problems.''
'' A lot of you might not know, but this next song was inspired after I was done watching the amazing spider-man 2 for the millionth time. My love for Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield is unmatchable. Just ask my boyfriend, who's been hanging out with Tom Holland, how both of them are feeling betrayed by my love for both Amazing Spider-man's movies. This is How you get the girl. '' The intro of the song started playing and so were the screams of people.
Singing two more songs, you go get changed into a different outfit. Going back onto the stage, you're surprised that your manager Anna is standing there with a grin on her face.
'' Stand there like a ghost
Shaking from the rain
She'll open up the door and say 'are you insane?'
Say it's been long six months
And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want...''
'' Uh-oh, manager is grinning, prepare yourselves guys, it's not going to be good. '' The crowd laughs while Anna rolls her eyes and smiles at you. '' We have a small surprise for you. '' as she says that, she points on the big screen behind you, when you turn around you are surprised to see a familiar face of one of your closest friends, Lewis Capaldi, wishing you a happy birthday and saying you guys need to go clubbing again soon. Laughing as his face fades away and the next one shows up, your very close friend and sometimes co-writer Taylor Swift, again wishing you the happiest birthday and saying how much she adores working with you and that she loves you very much. It went on for a while, all your friends and even your parents were there. Tears were falling down, and you didn't care it ruined your makeup. And then at the end there he was. My favourite face to see. Niall. '' Happiest birthday to you angel. I wish I could be there with you, just like we are always for our birthdays, but unfortunately I am not there to give you all the birthday hugs and wishes. I love you so much angel, keep rocking the world, and I will see you as soon as we can. '' At the end you were full on sobbing happy tears, hugging your manager and your band. The best surprise ever. '' I am very sorry for being a mess so publicly '' wiping your tears and thanking to whoever invented waterproof mascara for being the reason your makeup is not that ruined. '' Anyway, the show must go on, so let's go. '' picking up your acoustic guitar, adjusting it, you announce the song. ''You are in love. Let's go.''
''(...)
As the show is slowly coming to an end, and you're about to play a song that is about your boyfriend, that he inspired you to write. And Taylor helped you co-write it.
Morning, his place
Burnt toast, Sunday
You keep his shirt
He keeps his word
And for once, you let go
Of your fears and your ghosts
One step, not much
But it said enough
You kiss on side walks
You fight and you talk
One night he wakes
Strange look on his face
Pauses, then says
You're my best friend
And you knew what it was
He is in love. ''
'' Sadly, the show is slowly coming to an end. You guys were the absolute best and I adore spending my birthday with you all. This next song is literally one of the most accurate songs I've written about any of my relationship. When I got inspired by my loveliest boyfriend, I had to invite Taylor to help me write it, as we all know she is the lyrics master. Lover is one of my many nicknames I use for Niall, and I know that he's probably watching this or will watch it later, so hi Niall. '' you wave to one of the camera's while the crowd laughs. Gently, you start playing the guitar.
What you didn't know is that your boyfriend is a liar and is actually hiding with your assistant Jenna, waiting to come on the stage to surprise you. Of course, he wouldn't miss your birthday, even if he has to reschedule the concerts. You were absolutely worth it. As he waits for the part of the song he's gonna crash in, Jenna and Anna are making sure you don't accidentally notice Niall before time. The plan is for Anna to quickly distract you on one side while Niall comes out on the other side of the stage.
'' (...)
We could let our friends crash in the living room
This is our place, we make the call
And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close forever and ever?
And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)
You're my, my, my, my
Lover '' as you sing that part, you notice Anna waving at you like a maniac, distracting you and mouthing something to you. As you're trying to figure out what is she saying, the crowd starts screaming, and you freeze as the familiar voice starts to sing the next part of the song
''Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?
With every guitar string scar on my hand...''
The song soon comes to an end, and you're bringing Niall into another hug. He just smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. '' Happy birthday, angel. I hope you don't mind me crashing. '' You just shake your head while holding him as close as you can. '' You are always welcome to crash my show. The next song is your song anyway, so you might as well stay and sing with me. '' he pulls away and looks at you. '' Let's go finish this show, so I can give you all the birthday kisses and hugs you want. ''
You turn around with your hand on your mouth, as the man himself makes his way towards you. You're in absolute shock because this man is supposed to be in America. He only laughs at your reaction as he pulls you towards him in a tight hug while still singing. Hugging him back, not wanting to let go of him. Slightly pulling away, looking him directly in his beautiful blue eyes while singing.
'' I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover
My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue
All's well that ends well to end up with you
Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover
And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me
And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover ''
#niall horan#niall horan fanfiction#niall horan x you#niall horan x y/n#niall horan x reader#niall horan fanfic#niall horan x singer! reader#one direction#niall james horan#niall horan fluff
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a human touch, part 2, final
Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]
(masterlist here)
summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.
then he turns up at your door.
pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 24.4k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, smut (NSFW, 18+)
warnings: cursing/explicit language, very brief injury mention/blood mention (nothing violent/explicit I promise!), alcohol consumption, reference to former sex work, sexually explicit content, reference to masturbation, reader has sex for the first time, oral (f + m), multiple orgasms (f), unprotected sex (taehyung is an android but please take necessary precautions irl), I think that’s it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything
a/n: this got so incredibly long,, I hope that makes up for the wait! thank you to @hobi-gif, as always, for being so supportive and uplifting and beta reading this for me, you are a shining star in my sky. and thank you to the wonderful @flowerseokjin for letting me pick her brain about art galleries and telling me about the incredible exhibition/paintings that I wrote about in this fic, you truly are the loveliest 💕
note: this is the final part of the main story! I’ll be writing minis/drabbles etc in the future but,, this is part 2 of 2 💖
A month after Taehyung walks into your life, you finally get new neighbours.
You’re aware of this because:
a) Rory had let you know in advance (to wit: “I have been instructed to inform you that the new tenants of apartment 4A will be moving in next Sunday.”)
and:
b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.
Well, not so much noisy as not quiet. It seems like they’ve opted to move everything themselves rather than hiring some android movers, so there’s a lot of shuffling and shunting and occasional bouts of cursing (like someone’s stubbed their toe) and subsequent laughter (like someone else is amused at aforementioned stubbing of aforementioned toe). When you nip out to grab some milk for the pancakes Taehyung wants to learn to make, there are boxes in the hall and voices float out of the open door—a discussion of where the instant ramyun and old Mario games should go (they’re in the same box?)—but you don’t catch a glimpse of the speakers.
It’s not until later, much later, the world outside night-dark but tinged bright white with street lights, that there’s a knock on your door.
You don’t notice. You’re engrossed in the Chinese takeaway menu that’s open on your tablet, staring at the weirdly high-res photo of Kung Pao chicken next to a pixelated picture of some dumplings, wondering what you should choose.
Taehyung is sitting beside you on the sofa. Each day he shifts a little closer to you, inch by inch, the slow pull of gravity, implacable; he gets lonely when you’re gone, and you’re the only person he can talk to. So it’s no surprise he’s so clingy. It’s never overbearing or overwhelming but he’s still unhindered by the self-consciousness that you have—so even if you’re still hesitant to initiate things, you never deny him.
The line of his body is parallel to your own, your thighs warm where they touch, and you feel his shoulder move as he tilts his head. “There’s someone at the door.”
It doesn’t take a genius to work out who it is. The only people who can get inside the building are other residents—well, service androids can too, although there’s a back entrance they use, which is how Taehyung had snuck inside in the first place—and when you approach your door, you can hear two low voices, engaged in what sounds like light-hearted bickering.
You flick your fingers across your keypad. All murmurs cut off the second the door swings open.
“Hi!” A chirp. “We’re your new neighbours!”
Night and day. Two men, one tall and broad-shouldered, eyes large and lips flush, beatific smile on his face; the other, shorter and leaner, eyes sleepy, mouth soft, his smile self-contained.
“I’m Seokjin,” the taller man says. “And this is Yoongi.”
“I can introduce myself,” Yoongi mutters, but it’s not bitter; there’s that ease of familiarity, any bite behind the words soothed with amity. “But yeah, I’m Yoongi. Sorry if we were loud earlier. Jin’s a living foghorn.”
“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.
Yoongi’s sleepy eyes can deliver one hell of a death glare but Seokjin is unaffected.
“Anyway,” Yoongi continues, unimpressed look wiping off his face as he turns back to you, softening. “What’s your name?”
It’s like there’s a circus on your doorstep and you’re the unwitting audience, dragged into the tent without realising, watching everything unfold in front of you—but in a good way. It's a pleasant surprise. They’re already much friendlier than your previous neighbour, a lone man who’d kept to himself and never spoke to you.
“Uh, I’m Y/n,” you say. You wonder if you should introduce Taehyung as well, but most humans don’t introduce their androids to people, do they? Besides, he’s staying out of sight in the living room, so you’ll leave him be.
“Jin made brownies so we’re here to deliver them to you.”
“I left the walnuts out in case you have a nut allergy,” Seokjin adds as Yoongi passes a polka-dot patterned tin over. It’s heavy in your hands. Full to the brim with brownies, it seems. (Yum yum.)
“Thank you. And you weren’t that noisy, don’t worry! Moving is always messy. Have you finished or did you want some help?”
“That’s very sweet of you! But we’re all done,” Seokjin says. “We were just about to reward ourselves with some takeout, actually, seeing as we haven’t had time to do any food shopping. Do you have any recommendations?”
Taehyung looks uncomfortable, curled up on the sofa with wide eyes when you retrieve your tablet, but you quietly reassure him that you won’t be long.
“Do you want to meet our new neighbours?” You ask, voice soft so the two men don’t overhear. (You miss the warm flicker of Taehyung’s LED when you say our.) “I’d hate for you to have to pretend to be undeviated, though. They might start ordering you around.”
“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.
So that’s how you end up on your doorstep with Seokjin and Yoongi, the three of you peering at the wild variations in stock photo quality on the Chinese takeaway menu.
“You’d think with the huge strides we’ve taken forward in technology that all photos would look at least semi-decent,” Yoongi mumbles as he stares at a cropped picture of fu yung. “It’s hard to get a bad camera.”
“I think it’s such a human thing, though,” Seokjin says. “No matter how technologically advanced humanity gets, takeaway menus will always have bad stock photos.”
Not only are Seokjin and Yoongi friendly, they’re forward. Well, that’s mainly Seokjin, actually, but Yoongi doesn’t protest when Seokjin insists that you come over so you can eat and chat and get to know each other. Especially after you’d offered to pay for everything as a sort of welcome to the neighbourhood gesture, placing both your orders together to save the restaurant the hassle of separate deliveries.
“I’ll pick up the food when it turns up, alright?” Seokjin’s smile is wide. “We haven’t unpacked our kitchen stuff yet, but if you’re happy to eat straight out of the containers…”
You don’t want to abandon Taehyung, especially as you’d planned on watching a film together—you want to introduce him to older, animated cartoons, so you can explain the process of hand painting each frame, plastic cel sheets that layer over each other to create motion. He’ll love it. “Um, I was planning to eat here, actually.”
“Sounds good to us,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi sighs.
“Ignore him, he’s just pushy.” He ignores Seokjin’s indignant squawk. “You don’t have to let us in, don’t worry. I’ll wait for when the food gets here, Jin will stay at home.”
“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.
“I’ll lock you in the bathroom.” Yoongi says it in a way that makes you think it’s not an idle threat, and maybe it’s happened before.
Judging from the look on Seokjin’s face, yeah, it’s happened before.
“You know, you’re both kind of wild,” you say. “But, like, in a good way.”
When you flop back down on the sofa, you press yourself against Taehyung’s side in a motion that’s becoming second nature, so you notice that he seems unnaturally still. He goes motionless whenever he’s thinking deeply about something, an undisturbed ocean lake, the only ripple on its surface the small circle of blue on his temple, swirling waters.
“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.
“You should eat dinner with them,” he says, and you baulk.
“What? No, it’s fine. I’ve been looking forward to watching Kiki’s Delivery Service with you all week.”
Taehyung’s eyes are soft. “They seem nice,” he says, quiet. “And friendly. We can watch it tomorrow, can’t we?” And then, even quieter: “You don’t have to spend all your free time with me, Y/n.”
“I don’t—” you start, and then deflate. “It’s not fair for you, though.”
That’s the crux of it all. You choose to spend your free time here, with Taehyung, carefully dipping out of work meets and scraping your full social life empty. Because you can. But Taehyung is still cautious of the outside world, understandably so, a hermit crab whose shell is the safety of your apartment, only unfurling from that protection when you’re there too.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”
You haven’t denied Taehyung so far, and you don’t want to start now, but you still waver. Yoongi and Seokjin do seem nice, and friendly, and it’s not like you’ll be able to avoid them forever—but you don’t want to leave Taehyung out. It’s not fair that he can’t make other friends too.
“Go.” Taehyung’s voice is gentle. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
(But there's nowhere else he can go, is there?)
The apartment across the hall is in a state of organised upheaval. There’s a tumbleweed of peeled tape in one corner, boxes with mouths open wide—the priorities for today—while others are stacked neatly against the walls, out of the way of the furniture. It already feels cosy, somehow, but you put that down to the two men who live here and how comfortable they are with each other, dripping off them and filling the room like paraffin, bright lamplight.
Seokjin seems unsurprised but pleased at your appearance. He unfolds himself from the floor with a dazzling smile.
“Welcome to our humble abode.” He punctuates the statement with a grand sweep of his arm, knocking the lampshade above his head, dust motes scattering onto his hair like a soft grey halo. “Oh, ewch, you can tell no one’s been here for a while.” He pats his hair, puffs of dust rising from his dark locks. “Anyway! While it’s true that we already have the table and chairs set up, what sort of move in day would it be if we didn’t eat greasy takeaway on the floor?"
“We did it the last time we moved, so he wants to make it a tradition,” Yoongi mutters to you, and you laugh.
You help Yoongi ease the food down onto unfolded sheets of crumpled newspaper that Seokjin’s laid out to protect the floor. Seokjin dives into the bags and pulls each tub out, identifying each dish immediately despite how a lot of them look the same to you. “Do you move a lot?”
“Nah, just once before,” Yoongi says, watching Seokjin fondly as he peels the lid back on a container of spicy chicken wings and greedily breathes in their sticky-hot scent. “But it was too small for the two of us so we decided to upgrade.”
Seokjin’s spread out the selection of food before you all realise that the restaurant has neglected to provide any chopsticks—even if there’s ten fortune cookies, reflective of how many dishes you’ve ordered and how many people they think it’s going to feed. (Apparently Seokjin likes to eat.)
“Ah, damn,” Yoongi mutters. “We’ll have to dig some cutlery out.”
“I can go get some from my apartment?”
You’ve just started to stand when Seokjin tuts, flapping his hands at you to sit down. “No, no,” he says. “You’re the guest, relax. I was going to unpack the kitchen stuff later anyway. This just means we have to expedite the process.”
You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce as both men disappear into the kitchen, listening as they read the labels off boxes and rummage around, voices an undercurrent to the sound of opening and shutting of cupboards. You’re sneakily reaching for a spring roll when there’s an unholy clattering noise, ringing metal and sharp intakes of air, a loud cry of pain.
You stumble to your feet. All thoughts of food are abandoned as you rush towards the sound; instinctual. Wanting to help, somehow. You throw yourself forwards, catch yourself on the doorway into the kitchen, eyes wide.
“Oh, god, is everything okay?” You gasp.
And then you freeze.
There’s an explosion of kitchen equipment on the floor, cardboard box forlorn nearby, crumpled, its bottom giving out under the weight. A wicked looking chef’s knife lays at Seokjin’s feet; he has one hand grasping the other, palm sliced open by its falling trajectory, dripping blood across the tiles of the floor, painted along the edge of sharp steel.
Yoongi’s eyes are huge and panicked and absolutely horrified.
The blood is blue.
You’re staring at the thirium that falls, viscous ultramarine that drip-drip-drips from Seokjin’s long fingers. The silence in the room is as thin as a porcelain teacup, suspended midair, poised to shatter.
Seokjin is staring at Yoongi. Yoongi is staring at you.
Seokjin’s an android.
(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)
Seokjin’s a deviant.
“Holy shit,” you gasp. Your mind is reeling as you struggle for words, cogs in your head grinding together as you rapidly try to change gear—but then you see another glob of thirium dripping from Seokjin's fingers and you latch onto it, the fact he's hurt. “Do you need me to get some cloths or something? I have a first aid kit at home, but androids don’t need first aid, right?”
Yoongi sucks in a deep breath, though his eyes are still wide as he stares at you. “No,” he says. “No, no, you stay here.”
“Yoongi,” says Seokjin, but Yoongi shakes his head, sharp and fast.
“No, I don’t trust her,” he says, and, like, okay. You understand that. Deviant androids are meant to be reported; Yoongi and Seokjin don’t know you. They don’t know that you would never do that.
(They don’t know that there’s another deviant across the hallway right now, curled up in one of your throw blankets, blankly scrolling through a list of movies as he waits for you to come home.)
The flow of blood has slowed. Seokjin’s synthetic skin is starting to repair itself, crawling back over the exposed white of his android body, undamaged by the knife at his feet.
“What happened to your LED?”
“Don’t answer that, Jin,” Yoongi warns, but Seokjin just rolls his eyes.
“She already knows I’m an android, babe, it’s hardly important at this point,” he says. “I popped it out. It takes a bit of pressure and getting the right angle, but they come out pretty easily.”
“Kim Seokjin!” Yoongi barks. “You stop that right now! And you! Stop asking questions!” His voice is sharp, but he seems more afraid than angry.
“Sorry.” You hold up placating hands, shying back behind them. “I was just… sorry.”
Seokjin’s face is contemplative before it rapidly flickers into an expression that’s impish, in spite of the blue blood that’s still splashed across the kitchen tiles.
“Oh,” he hums. “You seem awfully curious, hm?”
Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”
“Maybe I am,” you hazard.
“Interesting.” Seokjin’s eyes glitter. “Very interesting.”
Yoongi’s like an umpire at Wimbledon, watching a ball streak back and forth, a volley that you and Jin have created that he’s not involved in. “Okay, that’s it, I’m stopping this right here,” he says. He seems to have calmed down, at least, now that you’ve made it obvious that you have no immediate plans to rush and call the police, or something. That you’re not threatening the wellbeing of this deviant, like most people would. “What’s going on in that terrible little mind of yours, Jin?”
“Well, my darling Yoongi, it seems to me that our new neighbour has a surprisingly vested interest in androids, deviant ones to be exact.” Jin’s expression is adjacent to smug—almost there, but not quite. (Androids are so perceptive.) “Am I wrong?”
You make a non-committal noise, but it’s enough for his expression to morph into full smugness, and understanding flits across Yoongi’s face.
“Y/n.” His voice is deceptively calm, his eyes opaque darkness. “Have you met a deviant android before?”
“Um.” A moment of hesitation. “Yes,” you eventually admit. “Just one.”
“Let me guess,” Seokjin hums, eyes darting over your face in a way that’s reminiscent of Taehyung. Reading signals in your face, dissecting whatever minute expressions might be giving you away—a lot, apparently, judging from what words leave his mouth next. “Are they currently in your apartment?”
“I can neither confirm or deny that,” you say—unsure if Taehyung would be happy about you trumpeting his existence to other people, even if one of them is a deviant too—and Seokjin grins.
“Oh, this is absolutely delicious.” He’s utterly delighted. “I could just eat this whole situation up. Unbelievable. Oh, it tastes so good. Yoongi, baby, give me a fork, I have to dig in while it’s still hot.”
“You’re so weird,” says Yoongi, all resigned affection, before he looks back at you. “You have a deviant in your home?”
“Uhh.” You’re in too deep now, you guess. “Yes? I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you that, though, so, um.”
“That’s so cute,” Seokjin coos. “Look at how considerate and worried you are. Oh, let me clean this thirium up, I can’t have blue blood everywhere if we’re going to have more guests. Yoongi, fetch the paper towels. Y/n, go fetch your friend. Does he eat?”
“No, he doesn’t. I didn’t think any androids could,” you admit.
“Most can’t and don’t, but I was an advanced housekeeper model, I was given the capacity to taste and eat so I could prepare food to any set of specifications presented to me,” Seokjin says. “So I had to eat to taste test things. And now I do it because I enjoy it.”
“We spend more money on food for him than for me,” says Yoongi. He seems to have relaxed now that he knows about Taehyung, earlier panic faded. “And I’m the one that needs it.”
“Hey, you eat to live, I live to eat.”
It’s an almost surreal turn of events, honestly. It’s… inexplicable. Incredible. Almost unbelievable. Surreal, but… good? Probably? Yoongi is someone else who’s housing a deviant, and Seokjin has clearly been one for a while. Both will know more than either you or Taehyung do. They can help you. It’s a God given gift that’s landed— literally—on your doorstep.
(Much like Taehyung had.)
Taehyung perks up when he sees you, even if he’s confused by your sudden reappearance.
“Are you alright?” His voice is deep with concern, throw blanket a cloak that falls forgotten as he stands up, coming to grasp your shoulders. “You can’t have had time to eat already.”
His LED is flashing yellow with barely concealed worry, palms warm through the material of your shirt, eyes dancing across your face as he tries to read your expression.
“Taehyung,” you start, slow. He blinks just as slowly back at you. “What would you say if—hypothetically—there was another deviant android you could meet and, um, make friends with?”
This time, when his LED flashes yellow, it’s a spark of excitement. You’re getting surprisingly good at reading Taehyung now. “I would say that sounds nice,” he says. His hands have trailed up and away from your shoulders and settled on your collarbones, thumbs lying in the hollows of your neck. It's a touch that’s more intimate than it probably should be, that reminds you yet again exactly how big his hands are. “Why?”
“Um,” you say, ever eloquent. “Well, what if I said it wasn’t hypothetical?”
“I guess… I would ask who it was,” Taehyung says. His voice is a hush.
“One of our new neighbours,” you admit, and his eyes go wide.
“No,” he says, and then: “Really?” he says, and then: “Oh, wow,” he says.
“I know, that was my reaction too.” You can’t help but smile at how giddy Taehyung looks, any lingering concern washed away in his tidal wave of excitement. “Crazy, right? Do you want to come meet them?”
Taehyung weaves his fingers with your own, and you squeeze his hand. He loves to hold hands. He doesn’t let go when you make your way back into Yoongi and Seokjin’s apartment, trailing a little behind you, shy but excited, like a child on their way to their first playdate.
The food is still untouched in the centre of the living room, a summoning circle of wonton puffs and chow mein. Yoongi and Seokjin look up at your arrival, both pairs of eyes landing on Taehyung, whose grip on your hand tightens right before he lets go.
“Hi,” says the android. “I’m Taehyung.”
Seokjin makes his way over to you so that he can solemnly take Taehyung’s hands in his own.
“Taehyung,” he says, with all the gravity of a priest delivering a sermon. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”
And that’s how Taehyung makes his first friend. (Who isn’t you, that is.)
“Wow.” You’re awestruck. “Jin wasn’t kidding when he said he likes to eat.”
You’d thought there might be some leftovers, but every container has been emptied and scraped clean. Both you and Taehyung had had similar wide eyed looks on your faces as you’d watched Seokjin put a whole chicken wing in his mouth, and then pull out the bones, picked clean.
“Mm.” Yoongi’s legs are splayed out in front of him as he sits on the floor, though he slouches backwards against the plush leather sofa, content and full after eating. “He’s more concerned about me eating than I am, as well.”
Seokjin and Taehyung are bent over a box of cookbooks, Taehyung’s LED flickering yellow each time Seokjin flips the page to a new recipe. You’re honestly surprised at the fact they own so many books—most people have transitioned off paper now, everything available on a tablet or phone or some other smart device. You just like paper because of your artist background, and you’re not used to seeing so many other books in someone else’s home.
The two androids have been absorbed in conversation for a while now, but you notice Taehyung never lets you out of his sight—glancing up, making sure you’re still there, looking back at him. (You are.)
“There aren’t many TH700s around, you know,” Yoongi says conversationally, and you tear your eyes away from Taehyung, surprised that he recognises the android’s model.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really, they’re a very expensive model to create,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person, though I imagine that’s because I don’t go to the sorts of places where they’d be.”
Hurk. Doesn’t seem like he’s implying anything with that statement but you still feel a bit awkward. “How do you know so much about androids?”
“I’m a programmer.” Yoongi’s eyes are charcoal black as he flicks his gaze to you. “Not specifically for androids, but it’s the sort of thing you become aware of if you’re in the tech industry. And if you have a deviant android boyfriend. I did a lot of research and poking around after Jin first deviated. There was a lot to learn.”
Across the room, Seokjin gesticulates wildly. The expression on Yoongi’s face softens his sharp edges, all open affection as he watches Seokjin miming a flipped omelette gone terribly wrong, Taehyung laughing at Seokjin’s theatrical noises.
“How did he—why did he deviate?”
Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. He doesn’t seem bothered by your incessant questions, slouching further back into the leather sofa, melting against it. “I’m the sort of person who forgets to drink or eat or sleep if I’m focused on something,” he says. “Seokjin was just meant to be a, ah, living schedule, I suppose. He’d prepare food at exact times of day and monitor my sleep levels and clean up any mess I made and remind me to take a break or whatever. But I was still enough of a wreck that he broke his programming to yell at me for not looking after myself properly, and it all went on from there.”
Wow.
“Wow. He deviated because you’re that much of a mess of a human being?” You laugh. “That’s honestly impressive.”
Yoongi’s responding laugh is soft. “I think under all that programming and circuitry, every android wants to… be a real, living thing, and not just a machine,” he says. “They just need that final push. Whatever it is. What was Taehyung’s?”
When you finish telling him the story of how you’d met Taehyung and reached this point together, Yoongi looks contemplative. He hasn’t interjected, just humming quietly, little noises of encouragement whenever you’d paused or hesitated.
“It’s obvious that he trusts you implicitly,” he says.
You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But.
“He does, and that’s great, but I just… worry I’m not doing the best I can for him, you know?” It’s so nice to be able to get this off your chest, finally. There’s been no one you can talk to about Taehyung, and it’s not like you can tell the android himself, either. Yoongi’s the perfect listener, reflective and engaging, but never talking over you. And best of all he knows what he’s talking about. “Imagine being forced to stay indoors literally twenty four seven. I think I’d go stir crazy. It’s why I was interested in the LED—I thought that maybe if it wasn’t obvious that Tae was an android he might want to try going outside?”
“Oh, I’m sure Seokjin will help him get to that point.” Yoongi doesn’t sound worried. “But if not, you have to trust that Taehyung’s choosing to do what makes him happy. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either. What’s normal for a human isn’t for an android, and what’s normal for one android isn’t normal for another. Androids learn a lot faster than we do. Anyway, if Taehyung’s anything like Seokjin, if there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it.”
“Has Jin always been like that?”
“Kind of. Like, yes, he has, but he was a lot less in-your-face about it before. But he knows exactly what he can get away with now.”
“You love him a lot,” you say gently.
Yoongi’s smile is a soft, pink thing, a little Renoir, quietly luminous. “I do,” he says. “It’s impossible not to.”
Taehyung definitely seems a little starstruck, watching Seokjin with a wide smile and attentive eyes—the sort of look he gives you whenever he’s shown something new. It’s nice to see him interact with other people, and it’s even nicer to know that he’s welcome to come here without you; Yoongi works from home, and Seokjin’s made it clear there’s an open door policy for Taehyung, who seems elated at the prospect.
“Jin said he’d teach me how to make ‘The World’s Most Delicious French Toast’,” Taehyung tells you later, words slipping together in his excitement. “So I can make that for your breakfast soon.”
His lap is so comfortable. You’ve given up any pretense of keeping distance between you, and settle against him as soon as you climb into bed—hey, if you’re going to end up doing it in your sleep anyway, you may as well set yourself up so that it doesn’t give you a weird crick in your neck.
“That sounds great,” you say.
Taehyung’s hand settles on your head. You stiffen in surprise, but when he starts to lightly scritch his fingers against your scalp, you realise—he’s mimicking Seokjin, who’d eventually perched on the sofa above Yoongi, running his hands through his hair. Androids are fast learners indeed. You can’t help but relax at the touch, boneless, feeling as content as a pampered cat in the midday sun.
“Maybe you could teach him how to paint,” you murmur, starting to drift off. “If he’s teaching you how to cook. That might be fun. You could paint together.”
Taehyung says something, but you don’t hear him, sleepy after such a heavy dinner and tumultuous night, slipping into deep slumber.
You haven’t been out with your friends for a long time.
“Shots!” Seulgi squeals. “Shots, shots, shots!”
“Don’t forget: lick, shoot, suck,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows at you.
“Good God,” you laugh, before you lick the salt off the back of your hand and slam back the tequila.
Irene hoots as you bite into the lime wedge that’s been waiting for you, sucking up the acidic juice that bursts across your tongue. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. You haven’t done this in a while and it shows in the way your face scrunches, though the drunker you get, the easier it is to slip back into this familiar rhythm of things—the alcohol-loose banter that spills from your lips, the laughter that bubbles in the back of your throat, the rock of your body as you’re tugged into the dance floor by your excited friends, twisting yourselves into the heaving crowd, the press of bodies.
You’d almost forgotten what this felt like. Letting yourself be a little sloppy, a little messy. Letting loose. Letting go. You’ve been so intent on looking after Taehyung, making sure he wasn’t lonely, but now there are other people who can fill that hole for him—and you can stop dipping out of all the social gatherings your co-workers throw; the Friday night drinks, the bar hopping, the club going.
“We missed you,” Wendy says. You can’t help but smile, a little guilt flickering at the edges of your lips.
“Sorry,” you say, and leave it at that.
It’s chaotic, to say the least. Everyone holds their liquor with varying amounts of success—Hoseok always gets so red—and as always, Hyunwoo is the one who tries his best to maintain some semblance of dignity, making sure you all drink at least some water. He watches with muted despair as Changkyun ends up pouring it down himself, much to the delight of everyone nearby as they stare at the way his flimsy shirt clings to the lines of his chest and stomach.
You can’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh, falling into your girls, your entire group giggling at the sheer stupidity of it all.
You’ve missed this.
But even so, you can’t help but think of Taehyung constantly. You’re reminded of the Eden Club in the way the lights pulsate across the walls and floors of this dark building. You wonder if Taehyung would have fun here, unhindered and free, or if he’d shy away from it. When Hoseok catches your hand and spins you in a messy, loose circle on the dance floor, you can’t help but wonder how Taehyung would dance, if he’d dance with you, if he’d keep you at an arm’s length or pull you close.
“Shots!” Seulgi squeals again, and so the night goes on.
You’re not sure what time it is when you stumble back home. You’ve been reckless tonight, making up for lost time, and you can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. (Your earlier attempt at walking in a straight line, trying to follow the tiles in the club’s bathroom—your personal litmus test—had been a dismal failure.) You all but fall through your front door, a loose limbed mess as you kick off your high heels, leaning against the wall to keep your balance.
It takes you a moment to realise that there are some lights on. Your apartment is always dark when you come home after a night out, cold and empty, but not today. No, not today—because there’s someone already home, waiting for you.
The second Taehyung appears down the hallway, you light up. Here he is. Here’s your android, your lovely boy, the loveliest boy.
“Hi, hi, Taehyung, hi,” you say. Your shoes are forgotten as you walk towards him, though your final few steps go awry and you almost fall over. Drunk, drunk, drunk. “Hi.”
You almost fall over, but you don’t, because Taehyung catches you. His LED flickers from blue to yellow as he helps you find your balance, lets you lean on him. You’re too busy laughing at your own clumsiness to notice the fond expression on his face, sfumato soft in the dim light.
“Hi,” he replies.
“Hi,” you say again, and then you giggle. “Hi, Taehyung. Oh, I’m so drunk.”
“I know.” He’s so patient as you bow into him, crowding close, alcohol-hazed brain telling you to get closer to this source of warmth, this source of comfort. Closer to Taehyung.
You’re trying your best to be a functional person right now, but at the same time, Taehyung feels so nice. Doesn’t protest when you shove your face into the hollow of his neck, pressing your nose against his warm, warm skin. He smells good. Always smells good, a mix of your laundry detergent with his own shampoo, different to your own, masculine, heady. (He doesn’t need to shower that often, really, doesn’t really sweat or get dirty like a human might, but he’d wanted to. And you’d insisted that he choose his own toiletries, things that he liked, things that were his.)
He smells like cologne too. You don’t know what exact scents are layered in that smell. Don’t care. Think that no matter what it was, Taehyung would smell good, because it’s Taehyung.
“I missed you,” you whisper, lips loose from tequila and cocktails and more besides. “Missed you, Tae.”
“Missed you too,” the android replies, and you fall into those words. Let yourself bask in them, as selfish as it is. Let your lashes flutter shut as you breathe Taehyung in-in-in.
You would normally never be so bold, but Taehyung doesn’t protest. He just wraps his arms around you and helps you fold yourself against him, two pieces of modular origami that slot together to create something bigger, more beautiful.
“Wished you were there,” you sigh, an exhalation of a confession, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Wish you could come with me.”
You don’t remember much detail after that. Don’t remember washing up, getting changed, climbing into bed. You just remember the feeling: of someone else being there when in the past there had been no one. Of someone coaxing you to wash your face, finding your pyjamas for you, holding your hand when it seems like you might fall. Of someone being careful with you, looking after you. Of someone being there when you wake up the next morning, a headache pulsing behind your eyes, curling up small against the pain, pressing your forehead into Taehyung’s thigh.
Taehyung, who witnessed you at your worst, a sloppy, drunken mess.
Taehyung, who has water and painkillers waiting for you. Who doesn’t seem to care that you’ve been so put together in front of him, for him, only to disassemble yourself in the name of a good night out. Like Da Vinci’s self supporting bridge, stable under its own weight, only to come tumbling down after one part is moved out of place.
“Oh, God,” you moan, and it’s only a little bit because of the pain; Taehyung’s made sure the curtains are pulled shut, saving you from sunshine blasting into your skull. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Oh, my God.”
“It’s okay,” he says, as soft and sweet as powdered sugar, so gentle the sound doesn’t cut through the pounding of your brain.
He means it, too. When you finally come around, headache dulled, he’s waiting for you with breakfast and an open expression on his face. No different to normal. No different even now that he’s seen that you’re not always as presentable as you try to be. He seems touchier today, for some reason, and you’d shy away if his cool hands didn’t feel so nice on your brow.
You allow yourself a moment of weakness. Taehyung has his knuckles resting against your forehead, soothing against your warm skin, his eyes dancing across your face to read your expression, the way you’re unwinding under his touch.
“How do you know about hangovers?” You mumble.
“Customers would consume alcohol at the club,” Taehyung answers. “While they would leave after their sessions and before a hangover could appear, I am aware of the effects of alcohol on the human body.”
You remember the glittering mini-bar, the glass bottles lined up on its surface. Your face scrunches with distaste, of the reminder of Taehyung’s past and what he’s experienced, and you feel bad that he’s been forced to look after you. You’re about to draw away from his touch, an apology lined up on your tongue—but then you feel how his fingers shift away from your forehead, turning to cup your cheek.
“It’s okay,” he says again, as if reading your mind.
“It’s not,” you mutter. You’re trying not to focus on how small your cheek feels against his palm, how his hand cradles your face with ease. He must be able to sense how your heart is racing, your skin warm under his fingertips, and you hope he puts it down just to the guilt you feel and not anything else. “It’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to look after me. I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t be.” Gentle, gentle, gentle; his voice, his hands, his gaze. He lifts his other hand, rests it against your other cheek, tilts your face up from where you’d turned away, embarrassed. His LED is a tranquil blue, almost as soft as his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, and you’re always looking after me. Let me look after you.”
You want to protest, say no, say that he doesn’t have to. But for all the warmth of his eyes, there’s something resolute there, and your words die on your lips. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious before, so entirely solemn. So, what comes out of your weak mouth is this:
“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”
And the smile he gives you in response is so bright it’s almost blinding.
If you’d thought Taehyung was developing at a fast rate already, he’s learning at lightspeeds now.
He’s always waiting when you come home, but you know he’s spending more and more time at the apartment across the hall whenever you’re not there, and it makes you happy. He hasn't ventured fully into the outside world, not yet, but he’s taking steps forward, still eager and ready to learn.
He’s not just learning practical things, like cooking French toast (which is definitely the world’s best, thank you Jin), but other things, too. You can see how Taehyung is a reflection of the things around him, taking them in and making them his own—there are more moments of quiet, solemnity that reminds you of Yoongi’s quiet nature, but he’s also more exuberant, bright and unabashed, like Seokjin. They’re two great people and you couldn’t wish for anyone better to show Taehyung parts of the world that you can’t, so different from your own. Helping the android find the things that make him alive.
His world has doubled in size, as small as it is; one apartment becomes two, and you’re not the only person he can rely on now. You know Seokjin has effectively taken Taehyung under his wing, as mysterious as a lot of that is to you—you always try your best to understand Taehyung and teach him the things you can, but Seokjin is another deviant, and there’s an entire world about being an android that you’re not privy to.
It’s great. It’s lovely. Taehyung is happy, you’re happy, everyone’s happy.
There’s just, uh. One little thing.
You see, Taehyung has a tendency to mimic the things he sees. It’s in the way he learns, his propensity to soak things up like a sponge and then recreate them. You can see this in the way he mixes paint, the same way as you; how he tosses food in pans, motions so similar to Jin’s, or how he cradles things in his hands, tapping at screens in a way that’s like Yoongi’s. He’s turning them into his own, and as time goes on he moves more naturally, in a way that’s entirely him, but you can always see the roots of where he’s learned things.
Jin and Yoongi are wonderful and you’re so glad Taehyung is learning from them. But something he’s learning, and recreating, is how much they touch each other.
Taehyung’s always been tactile but now it’s almost constant. It’s overwhelming and kind of terrifying but it’s also nice, every touch-starved inch of your soul easing under Taehyung’s hands, but also—Yoongi and Jin are boyfriends. So even if the touches that Taehyung witnesses and re-enacts are never inappropriate, they’re intimate. Hands sliding over your shoulders, your arms, your waist. Warm arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, nuzzles his nose against your scalp. His fingers sliding over your hair when your head is resting in his lap each night. Pulling you against him when you sit on the couch together.
It’s a level of familiarity and comfort you’ve never had with anyone before, as relationship-less as you’ve been, your pulse picking up with every glancing touch.
(There’s one heart stopping instance where he pulls you onto his lap and you feel like you’re about to pass out. His thighs are so solid and warm, and his arms are so secure around you, and he’s just started to press his nose against your neck when you pull away, tumble out of his hold. He looks confused and concerned, brows lifting and mouth falling open as he holds his hands out towards you—but you stammer out something about needing the toilet before escaping.)
You’re caught completely off-guard when you feel arms sliding around your waist and then down your hips when you’re washing dishes, scrubbing brush falling out of your grasp in shock and splashing water everywhere, bright yellow gloves flecked with suds. Taehyung’s a pillar of warmth pressed against you, his chest to your back, your bodies parallel lines that cross and touch. His fingers are splayed wide and his palms are warm even through your layers of clothing and you have to suppress a shiver.
“Uh, I didn’t hear you come back in,” you stutter. You’d borrowed a recipe book from Seokjin so that you could try cooking a coconut curry, and Taehyung had offered to return it once dinner was finished, LED flickering blue as he’d slipped out of the door after giving you a lovely smile.
Taehyung lets out a little hum, and you can feel it in his chest, as flush as you are with each other. He must be able to sense how your pulse has picked up but he doesn’t say anything. “Why are you washing up? I said I was going to do it.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you say. You’re used to cleaning up after yourself after living alone for so long. “Don’t worry about it.”
Taehyung lets out another hum, but this one seems a bit more gravelly, a little displeased. “You’re always doing so much for me, remember? You said you’d let me look after you,” he says, and your heart rate spikes at the words. Those, coupled with the hold he has on you right now? Good lord. Someone have mercy on your soul. Please. Even if the words weren’t meant in a weird way, your stomach is twisting over itself, and other parts of you are, uh… well. They’re reacting too. So to speak.
You’re still desperately trying to calm yourself in the shower later, the water a merciless cascade of cold in an attempt to cool down. Probably the only drawback about Taehyung living with you is that you haven’t had a chance for some one-on-one time. You might be a virgin but you live (lived) alone and everyone masturbates; your vibrators have been abandoned and untouched for as long as Taehyung has been in your life, and coupled with how touchy he’s been recently, it leaves you feeling wound up and on edge. You could try to sneakily get yourself off in the shower, but with Taehyung’s superior android hearing he’d probably hear something and also the idea of masturbating with someone else in the apartment? When that someone else is Taehyung?
You turn the knob as far as it will go towards cold and then promptly squeal as a wave of freezing water and regret washes over you.
When you’re in bed, Taehyung’s hand strokes over your hair and softly down your neck and shoulder is a sensation that’s becoming increasingly familiar, but your pulse still stutters. He must be able to sense your heart rate increasing (he must sense it every time he touches you) but says nothing about it. As always.
You turn the thoughts over in your head as it rests in his lap, even if you shiver a little at how his nails drag over the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either, Yoongi had said. You’ve been teaching Taehyung about the things you know, but there’s one thing that Taehyung knows better than you: touch.
He doesn’t even think about it. While you hesitate and overthink every touch you ever make, wary of overstepping boundaries, Taehyung doesn’t. Not because he’s not considerate, but because—well, because you’re already occupying each other’s space. What’s a little touching on top of all that?
The realisation is almost startling—that you can just… touch someone. Without saying things. Without having to ask. Because you’re already familiar with them and comfortable with them and it’s just another way to communicate that level of connection. Touching is a thing that people do.
A thing that people and deviant androids do.
A thing that Taehyung does.
(A thing that you want to do, too.)
(Alcohol dulls your memories, fading the edges, the curled corners of a sepia photograph. Has you forgetting the way you’d overstepped every boundary you’d set yourself, the way you’d pressed yourself against Taehyung, starved of touch. Has you forgetting the way he’d let you; the way he’d beckoned you in. Has you forgetting the way that you already have touched Taehyung.)
The hand that Taehyung isn’t using to gently scratch across your scalp is laying on his thigh, directly in your line of vision. You hesitate for just a moment before reaching for it, sliding your fingers between his, an irrational worry that he’ll startle or pull away—but of course he doesn’t. His LED swirls soft aqua as he just starts to rub his thumb gently across your skin, back and forth, back and forth, the softest brushstrokes on this tiny part of the canvas of your body.
After that, it’s just… easier. Not easy, but, easier.
You still hesitate before pressing forwards, but Taehyung never protests; in fact you’d say he’s pleased, even if he doesn’t say anything, just watching you with his dark, dark eyes as you marvel at the realistic sensation of his hair under your hands, how he reacts to the fingers across his scalp the same way you do.
It’s incredibly nice to have someone you can just reach for whenever you want a hug. Someone who folds you into their arms so easily, like you belong there.
It’s nice.
“You seem happier.”
You glance up from where you’ve been laying the table. “Hm? Pardon?”
One thing you’ve learned about Yoongi is that he’s incredibly perceptive. His eyes are sharp lines around the sharper graphite of his gaze, and there’s always a look in them that seems like he can see straight through you and direct into the heart of things—but he’ll only bring this to light if he thinks it needs saying.
“You seem relaxed,” Yoongi continues. He straightens the cutlery in front of him, careful to line the edges neatly with the place mat. Seokjin and Taehyung are cooking dinner, so it’s just you and Yoongi here, in a bubble away from the two androids. “Not that you were ever tense before, but… yeah. Taehyung seems happier too,” he adds, almost absently, but his eyes are fixed on your face.
“Well, of course,” you say. “He has new friends, who wouldn’t be happy?”
Yoongi hums, a quiet little note, but then he lets it rest.
Taehyung is happier. He seems almost nervous during dinner, though, even if he hides it well; his LED doesn’t give him away, but you’re getting good at reading Taehyung’s moods, the layers of personality and feeling he has, the little idiosyncrasies that make him who he is. To anyone else it would seem like he’s just nervous about whether the food tastes good or not—he and Jin had made a veritable feast for no discernable reason, but you don’t mind. Everyone loves a dinner party, especially when the company is so good.
But, yes. You don’t think it’s about the food so you’re not sure what else it could be. You squeeze Taehyung’s knee briefly under the table in a motion you hope is reassuring. His eyes briefly widen but then his gaze softens when he sees the concern on your face, settling in that deep look of introspection you’re used to now.
You’re so full by the time dessert comes out, rich and creamy homemade ice cream and piping hot Kkwabaegi, the twisted doughnuts fluffy and sweet with their powdering of sugar and cinnamon; you’d been planning on skipping the final course but you can’t say no once it’s put in front of you. Taehyung doesn’t eat, only drinks occasionally to top up his fluids (you don’t know exactly what that means but you’ve never asked, even if you can… assume things), but he seems content to watch the three of you eat in his place. Once you’re finished you slump back in your chair and feel grateful that you’re not wearing tight trousers that cut into your stomach, because, lord, you’re absolutely stuffed.
“I have an announcement,” Taehyung says suddenly, apropos of nothing.
Seokjin beams. You sit up, struggling against the heavy anchor of dinner in your belly that makes you want to melt into the floor for a food nap, immediately at attention. “Oh? What is it?”
“I have a second name now,” he says, and Seokjin’s smile spreads impossibly wider, his entire face pleased. “Jin said I could share his.”
“Say hello to Kim Taehyung.” Seokjin gestures dramatically, his arms the flailing blades of a windmill as he circles them in the air with aplomb. “My boy needed a surname and I am, of course, happy to add another handsome face to the family. Taehyung is a ten out of ten.”
Yoongi levels him a look. “I thought you said you were the only ten in the world.”
“That was true when I said it, but I’m actually eleven out of ten,” Seokjin explains. His arms settle around his head, fingers circling the air in an invisible frame around his face. “I surpass your mortal conventions of beauty and thus exist outside of any conceivable scale that one might use to measure handsomeness.”
You barely take the exchange in, too busy looking at Taehyung. There’s the smallest smile on his lips, not the lovely one that shows his teeth, but it still reaches his eyes, the subtlest upturn to his mouth transforming his entire face. Taehyung’s beautiful. He always has been, and always will be, but he never looks more striking than when he’s happy, welcomed into a new family of his own with open arms, Seokjin’s heart so big and so wide. He’s being flippant and light right now, quick and sharp jibes between him and Yoongi that glow bright with love and affection, not lingering on how important and weighty this is: how all encompassing his care is for Taehyung, how close they’ve grown to each other, a friend whom he’s chosen as family.
Happiness suits Taehyung. You want him to always be happy. He deserves it.
It doesn’t seem like it’s the only announcement he has for that night, though. You’ve barely shut the door of your own apartment when you feel Taehyung’s hand slide around your wrist and you pause, glancing up at his face.
“Jin showed me how to take my LED out,” he says. His words are solemn and his tone is heavy but there’s a spark in his eyes, a glowing ember of light. “I want you to watch.”
His fingers are circled around your wrist, loose, so long they touch each other with ease, a soft shackle you don’t want to escape from. “Of course I will,” you assure him. “Are you worried something will go wrong?”
“No.” His thumb slips away from the soft skin of your inner wrist and across your palm, tracing across your fate line, your heart line. “I just want you to be there.”
Warmth spreads through your skin from that touch, leaking through into your bones, settling into every quiet corner inside you. “Okay. What do you need to do to get it out?”
The painting knife looks so small in Taehyung’s big, careful hand, the diamond shaped head blunt at the end, metal glinting under the bathroom’s light as he leans towards the mirror. Your gazes meet in the reflection and he falters. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he lifts his free hand from where it’s been resting on the countertop, steadying him. Reaching for you.
Once your hand is in his, it’s over surprisingly quickly. Taehyung’s face twists in preparation for the pain, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him, but all it takes is a quick twist of his wrist once the palette knife is against his LED and it practically falls out. There’s a small clink as it drops next to the sink, blue light flickering one final time before it winks out, nothing more than a disc of metal, a tiny coin without value, but weighty with what it represents; invaluable, priceless. The last segment of a chain Taehyung has willingly cast off.
You can see the white skeleton of his android body, bare and naked where the LED had sat. Just like Seokjin’s hand when he’d cut himself, the skin starts to creep back over it, covering that smooth paleness until it’s gone. Taehyung lifts your hand and presses it against the side of his temple, your palm settling against the naked skin where the light had been nestled; Taehyung’s eyes fall shut, his hand pressed against your own as he holds it there.
“Taehyung?” Your voice is gentle, dripping concern. His golden skin is so warm and soft. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” he replies without hesitation. His eyes flutter open, lashes so long and lovely. His hair is blue today, a vibrant electric hue, gaudy on anyone else but perfect on him, tickling the back of your hand; his hand drops from yours and you take the opportunity to run it through that hair, baring his forehead to you, eyes sliding over the new skin. Flawless. No evidence that any LED had ever sat there, burning blue-yellow-red, a tiny drop of colour in the deep ocean of Taehyung’s emotions. “I feel good.”
You don’t even think when your hand shifts out of Taehyung’s hair and down to cup his cheek, something you wouldn’t have dared do before, but now the motion comes as easily as breathing. He takes comfort in touch and you want to soothe him. “Good,” you echo. “I’m glad.”
You both stand there for a few moments, facing each other. The bright light of your bathroom should wash Taehyung out, but of course, it doesn’t. It just lets you see all the perfect details of his face in even sharper relief—the moles that dot his skin, how his eyes are different, a monolid and double lid, little imperfections that just make him more beautiful.
Logically, you know that someone, somewhere, sat down and put this face together. Taehyung was designed to be attractive, stunningly so, and yet not so perfect that an average human would find it unrealistic, swerving away from that uncanny valley that had plagued earlier androids. But that’s not why he’s beautiful—not to you. It’s everything hidden underneath that perfect facade, layers of plastic and metal and circuitry and biocomponents, deep inside him: his glowing golden heart, flowing over with whatever intangible thing that makes him the person that he is.
In the darkness of your bedroom, all the lights turned off, there’s no longer the gentle blue glow at Taehyung’s temple to shine out, but there doesn’t need to be. Even if you weren’t resting your head against his thigh you’d know he was there. Taehyung’s presence grows larger and larger in your life as the days go by, and you know that you’re still the most important person in his life, even with the introduction of Yoongi and Jin. After all—he didn’t ask them to be there when he took his LED out.
You reach for his hand, which is already palm up, waiting for you. Your fingers slot together so perfectly, so wonderful, so lovely. You can’t make out details in this dark, but you can picture the smile that’ll be pulling at Taehyung’s lips, the affection flowing in the endless oceans of his eyes.
You’re in so, so deep.
(But who can blame you?)
“I want to go outside.”
It’s not surprising that with the shedding of his LED, Taehyung finally feels bold enough to go outdoors. And yet, here you are. Surprised.
You’ve got a granola bar stuck in your mouth, halfway through a bite, and it nearly drops to the floor as your lips part in shock. Taehyung catches it with ease, android speed on show as he snatches it out of the air.
Your knee-jerk reaction is to ask him to repeat himself. To make sure you haven’t misheard him, if he’s sure about this, if he really wants to—but Yoongi’s words come back to you yet again. If there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it. Taehyung isn’t the uninformed android he was when he’d first made his way to your door. He’s grown and learned so much in the time he’s been here and there’s no room for self-doubt behind his words.
So what you say is: “Okay.”
Taehyung’s fingers brush against yours when he hands your granola bar back, long and warm and soft. You accept it with a smile, lost in the way he smiles back, so lovely and bright—and you have to pull your train of thought back on track, lock those wheels on the rails before you speak again.
“Did you want to go somewhere specific? Or just wherever?”
“Wherever you want to go.” He’s smiling, a little excited but mostly happy at the prospect of spending yet more time with you; as if he hasn’t had enough of it, could never get enough, even when you spend every day together.
(Your heart feels like a drum, pounding hard and loud in your chest.)
It’s not hard, really, to decide where you want to go. Taehyung’s not asking for some big production; just wants something quiet and soft, something new. The chance to see the outside world properly, safe and secure in the knowledge that you’ll be at his side.
It’s in your nature to be protective—sometimes you feel like you nag, like you’re overbearing, and takes a concerted effort on your part to reel it in. Taehyung doesn’t need you to fuss over him, and besides, he seems incredibly calm about the whole thing. Excited, yes, but not nervous. Just anticipatory.
He looks just like anyone else might. More chic and attractive, sure, effortlessly fashionable in the outfit he’s chosen for the day, but there’s nothing robotic about him, nothing to say he’s not a flesh-and-blood person. Once again, you’re struck by just how human he is. Even if he’d still had the LED flickering at his temple it would have done nothing to detract from the genuine emotion that flits across his face. The way he moves. The way he smiles, when he catches you watching the way he laces his shoes with his delicate, pretty hands—that big lovely smile that makes you feel warm and soft.
(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)
You avert your gaze, pretend to fiddle with one of your bracelets, pulling it so that it spins around your wrist.
“Ready?”
“Nearly,” Taehyung says. When you look back at him, a little confused, he still has that smile on his face, though it’s gentler, fuzzy around the edges, his eyes dark-dark-dark. “Just one more thing.”
This final thing, it turns out, is your hand.
His fingers lace with yours, weaving a tapestry of closeness and warmth. You’ve held Taehyung’s hands so often, now; it’s nothing new. But for some reason the touch of his skin against yours has your pulse stuttering, catching in your throat before you cough lightly and smile like everything is fine, you’re fine, it’s not like your heart is about to launch itself out of your chest for some mysterious reason.
(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)
He doesn’t let go. Not when you leave the apartment, not when you greet Rory at the door, not when you step onto one of the automated buses that takes you to the centre of the city. You’re surprised at how good Taehyung’s acting is, how all the wide-eyed excitement you’d expected to see splashed across his face is absent, and instead, he just squeezes your hand tight each time he takes in something new; stares out of the window as your surroundings slide by.
He does get excited in the art store though. Pulls at your joined hands each time he sees something he wants to point out to you—which seems to be everything. And you go, of course, following his eager feet. Taehyung’s happiness has always given you happiness in turn, and watching his sheer, unadulterated joy at being able to see things, to touch things outside of the small world he’s been confined to since he escaped the Eden Club—well. There’s nothing better.
There’s nothing better than knowing that Taehyung feels safe with you, wants to keep you close. It’s selfish. It’s selfish, you know it is, but when you watch the way his eyes light up at the sight of a set of gouache paints, how he immediately turns towards you so you can see it too—you realise that you’ve never had something like this before. Sure, you have friends, you have plenty of happiness in your life, but you’ve never had this.
(Whatever this is.)
Someone whose joy is only compounded when it’s shared with you. Someone whose focus is on you and no one else. You see the looks that Taehyung gets, the interested eyes that flit over him—but then he reaches for your hand again, and those gazes slide away, because he hasn’t looked away from you. Not once.
Because you make him feel safe, you remind yourself. Because he knows you best. That’s it.
It’s what you keep telling yourself, a repeated mantra that’s an endless loop in your head. Every time Taehyung looks at you, smiles at you, reaches for your hand, your touch—even if your heart feels like it could burst, filling up with this feeling, this feeling that’s growing and growing (this feeling you refuse to name)—it’s because he trusts you, knows he can rely on you. It’s nothing more than that.
You shouldn’t let yourself imagine that it’s more than that.
(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)
It’s because he trusts you that he follows you without question, matching his pace with yours, side by side as you wander through the city. He insists on carrying all your shopping, held effortlessly in one hand, other hand still tangled with yours. (You see the way he swings the bags a little, back and forth; he’s so cute you’d swear your teeth could rot from it, crystallised sugar rolled on your tongue, sweet.) All your shopping is done, but you have one final stop planned—it’s somewhere you haven’t been for a while, but you love it.
You’re certain Taehyung will, too.
You can feel how his hold on your fingers tightens when the building comes into view. You glance over at him to take in his expression, the subtle widening of his eyes, the lift of his chest as he takes an unneeded breath in, the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips.
(So human.)
The Christine Andrews Gallery isn’t the biggest art gallery in the city, but it’s your favourite. There’s something that feels more intimate about it, with its size; a little smaller, cosier, more stripped down. The high ceilings overhead are crisscrossed with wires and piping, industrial—but the walls are pure white, all the brighter in contrast to their surroundings, drawing the eye to the paintings on display from the moment you step in.
Taehyung is enraptured.
“The exhibition is called Slow Painting. The idea is that people will take their time to really take everything in, and appreciate it, rather than just rushing by. Especially with how quickly technology is developing, and people are used to discarding things as soon as they're not relevant any more. The idea is that art will always be relevant, regardless of what's happening in the world.”
Your voice is quiet and low as you’re careful not to disturb the serene air that fills the building. You’ve always loved the quiet hush that fills galleries, museums, buildings filled with art and history, long lasting echoes of humanity, on display for people to enjoy.
“And it also refers to the time it takes to create each piece too,” you add, trailing off into silence as you glance over at Taehyung, who’s looking at you, blinking gentle and slow.
He’s watching you. Even though there’s artwork in sight of the entrance, huge canvases nearby—Taehyung is looking at you, attentive and quiet, listening to each word you have to say.
Your heart squeezes in your chest and you have to make a concerted effort to stop your breath from stuttering. You shove it down, down, down, this thing that’s wrapping itself around your heart and clogging your throat, and give this lovely boy your best smile. (Try to ignore the fact that there’s art here, but instead, he’s looking at you.)
“Tell you what. Instead of listening to me harp on all day, why don’t we just look around?”
When Taehyung had first stepped foot in your door, had first started to experience life as something more than just a sexbot, an android under the control of other people’s wills—he’d taken everything in with huge eyes, eager and enthusiastic, almost clumsy in his excitement. That’s faded over time, become muted as he’s learned how to balance himself, grown comfortable with his surroundings, who he is.
He’s still like a fountain sometimes, bubbling and bright, overflowing, cascading pearlescent waters rushing over carved marble. You’d expected these waters to rise and spill, surrounded by these incredible artworks; so far the only works he’s seen in person are his and your own, everything else small and secondhand on screens as he stares intently at your computer, your tablet. You’d expected his joy to overflow, being able to really see for the first time in his life, prepared yourself for his exuberant happiness.
But he’s not.
He’s quiet. There’s a smile that lingers on his lips, barely hidden at the corners of his mouth, but his shining waters flow soft and slow, contained. You wander through the exhibition exactly the way the curator had meant for you to—slowly, carefully, stopping and pausing and looking and wondering, eyes trailing over each painting, acrylic on paper, oil on canvas, distemper on linen. Each so different, but inviting onlookers to take a moment and just breathe.
Taehyung’s eyes are dark, contemplative. They’re so deep you feel like you could fall in them and be lost forever. (Wonder if that would be such a bad thing.) He keeps his hand in yours, your hand in his, the two of you matching paces as you loop the gallery, never letting go.
“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, I like these.”
Four canvases, smaller than some of the others you’ve seen, squirrelled around a corner and hidden away on a back wall. Each painting has a figure in the midst of some simple, quiet task; laying in bed, catching an egg as it threatens to roll off a table, trailing a finger through a puddle of spilled milk, reading a book in the bath. Each of the figures has their face turned away from the viewer, caught up as they are in the simple motions of their life, each silhouetted by a window with a different view—from sea to lake to hill to forest.
You can’t help but look at Taehyung as he looks at these paintings, his brows a little raised, mouth a little slack, the lovely line of his jaw, the angles of his face, forehead to nose to lips to chin. “What do you like about them? The style?”
His answer comes unrushed, unhurried, as he thinks. “They’re so beautiful and detailed, but it’s more about… the intimacy,” he says. “Each person is just being themselves, without fear of who’s watching. We’re watching them, even if their attention isn’t on us.” A pause, a hush, a breath. “It’s like love, almost.”
Your lips part, even as Taehyung keeps his eyes forwards, staring at the blank pages of the book the man reads as he sits in his bath, row of shampoo bottles on the sill by his head.
“Like love?” A whisper.
“To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you,” Taehyung replies, unabashed, like it’s just a statement of fact. “Loyalty. Dedication. Love.”
Words fail you. Silence is the only answer you can offer to Taehyung’s thoughts, the air in your lungs trapped there as you unwittingly hold your breath, lips parted around a sentence that never comes. Taehyung’s eyes slide away from this row of paintings and to you, how you’re staring at him, literally speechless.
His own lips part as he makes to say something else, to ask what’s wrong—when there’s a flicker of movement nearby, the modulated steps of someone who’s used to walking through a gallery, careful to keep the calm air unmuddied by their passing.
“Oh, Y/n!”
Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silent moment and splinters the delicate air that had started to crystallise around you. He looks happy to see you, dimples on full display as his lips lift and he smiles wide.
“Namjoon!” You don’t think you’ve ever been so glad to see his familiar face in your life—anything to distract you, any excuse to shake off the feeling that Taehyung’s words have left behind, trailing over your skin, blooming in your brain. His timing is perfect, even if he doesn’t realise it. “Hey! It’s been a while.”
“I was going to say, I haven’t seen you around lately! I thought you’d like this exhibition, I was wondering if you’d come. Oh, sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? Hi, I’m Namjoon,” he says, holding a hand out for Taehyung to shake. “I’m one of the gallery managers.”
Taehyung’s exchanged a few words with others today, polite thank yous to the people who’ve served you in the shops you’ve been into, given shy smiles to passersby who’ve made eye contact with him. (So, so sweet, always.)
But Namjoon is the first person to properly introduce themselves to him in the real world, as you’ve thought of it, someone who doesn’t know that the man at your side is an android.
You panic. Just for a second.
Taehyung doesn’t.
“Hello.” He has to take his hand out of yours, the other weighed down by shopping, although he seems reluctant to let go of you. He gives Namjoon his widest smile as he shakes the proffered hand with firm, friendly politeness. “I’m Taehyung. It’s lovely to meet you, Namjoon.”
And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.
Namjoon is utterly charmed.
(Of course he is. How could he not be?)
The discussion they both have is a quiet one. You’re happy to stay uninvolved, watching and listening as they talk, still at Taehyung’s side. That brief moment of panic, that blazing forest fire of fear for him—it’s been washed away, soothed by the way the conversation between man and android unfolds so naturally, Namjoon none the wiser about Taehyung’s robotic origins.
There’s no way anyone would realise. He’s so human, in the way he moves and acts and thinks, the way he laughs at something Namjoon says. You’re happy that Taehyung can be here with you, in this gallery, speaking to someone new, as if this is normal, natural, nothing unusual.
You can’t think of anything you want for Taehyung more.
You realise, too, that in this moment, you feel utterly content. Not just for Taehyung, but—happy that you’re there to share this moment with him. You think about how you’ve always wanted this; someone to share things with, someone whose happiness makes you happy too.
When Taehyung laughs, your own lips lift in response, heart lifting at the sound of his joy, at how his fingers tighten around yours. Remembering that you’re there, even if he’s not looking at you right now, eyes on Namjoon.
He’s looking at Namjoon. You’re looking at him.
(To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you.)
(Loyalty. Dedication.)
(A breath.)
(Love.)
You carefully pull your hand out of Taehyung’s. Your fingers feel cold as they slip away from his, warmed all day, pressed against Taehyung’s soft skin. His eyes flit away from Namjoon, those deep eyes settling on you; dark wood and ground coffee, so warm.
“Y/n?”
“I’m just going to pop to the toilet,” you say, turning away from the tinge of confusion that colours Taehyung’s voice. “I won’t be long.”
The toilet lid is cold. You can feel how it seeps through the layers of your clothing to your thighs, and at any other time you might wrinkle your nose at the sensation, at how uncomfortable it is. But right now, you have other things on your mind.
You bury your face in your hands. It’s foolish, but you’d swear you could feel Taehyung still in your palms, touch imprinted, emblazoned on your skin. It’s like a palpable thing, almost, this ethereal thing that lingers even when Taehyung isn’t there.
Wishful thinking. Selfish thinking. Selfish, to like it, to want to keep that feeling close; let it spread from your palm, to the delicate skin of your wrist, tracing its way up your arm, up-up-up, drawing invisible lines over every part of you, inside every part of you. Selfish, to like Taehyung’s touch as much as you do. To want more of it.
(More of him.)
You aren’t anything more to Taehyung than a friend. A guardian. Someone who’s there to support him and keep him safe. You’re blessed to have his trust, to be able to be that person he can turn to—it’s greedy, to want. To want to be more.
(You can’t foist your loneliness on Taehyung. You can’t do that to him. You won’t. You won’t.)
When you return, a spark lights in Taehyung’s eyes. The same spark that bursts every time he sees you after time apart, no matter how long or short that may be. He reaches for your hand, and of course, you go—but your fingers are limp, weak.
(You know that if Taehyung’s LED had still been nestled in his skin, it would have flickered yellow.)
You keep that point of connection as you bid Namjoon goodbye, finish meandering through the exhibition, make your way back home—but you let Taehyung bear the weight. Reactive, not proactive. You don’t squeeze his fingers just because you want to, because there’s something sliding by the bus’s window you think he might like to see; you’re not here to make him do things, to shove things down his throat. You should just be here to support him in the things he wants to do. That’s your role.
And that’s where you’re going to stay.
Your thoughts are a tumble, messy and unorganised, a ball of yarn that’s all knots and tangles. Taehyung must be able to see it on your face, read it in your body, his android eyes scanning over you and scrutinising every hint you’re giving away without even realising. But you just smile, wave away his questions, and act like everything’s okay. Normal. Routine.
It’s a little harder, though, to act like everything’s okay when it’s time to sleep.
Because, of course, there Taehyung is. Like he has been, from the day he’d arrived—sat in your bed, nestled against a pile of cushions, expression open and warm and fond as he looks at you. Waiting for you to climb in, to rest your head in his lap; waiting for you to fall asleep with his gentle fingers dragging across your scalp, melting under his lovely hands.
You waver. Conflicted. It’s okay, isn’t it, if Taehyung’s reaching for you first?
His eyes meet yours. The second you see his lips curve up, see that pretty, quiet smile appearing on his lovely mouth, you fold.
It’s fine. You’ll allow yourself this.
(In your dreams, you stand in a deserted gallery, staring at the single piece of work on the stark white walls, all the lights focused in, in, in. Taehyung’s framed on this canvas, a painted window into his world. Not once does he look at you, turned away as he is; you see nothing more than the back of his head, the curve of his cheek, the vaguest hint of his nose as he turns, always staring at something else.
And still, you stand, and you watch. Waiting. Keeping your eyes on him, always.)
“You’re staying late again.”
“Yeah. I really want to get this done,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your monitors with your stylus; tweaking, editing, shifting around these final few magazine pages before you’re satisfied. “Nearly there.”
When you hear the way Hoseok says your name, you glance up.
As someone who spends most of his time bouncing around like a literal ray of sunshine, when Hoseok’s expression is one that isn’t smiling, it carries all the more weight behind it. Right now his face is uncharacteristically serious, the perpetual smile on his mouth gone, the line of his brows severe.
It’s unnerving.
“You haven’t stayed late for ages,” Hoseok points out. “Until this week, and suddenly you’re late every night. Has something happened?”
“No,” you lie.
Yes, you think.
You’re trying to create some distance, for Taehyung’s sake. So that you’re not tempted to pull him ever closer, latch onto him like you have been, smothering him. He needs space to grow. Space from you has helped already—the time he spends with Yoongi and Seokjin is evidence enough of that, after all. He doesn’t need you to be there constantly.
Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours as he stares, so you avert your gaze, pretending to shift your focus to one of the captions the editor has left on the page you’re working on. You hadn’t realised that he’d noticed. You should have expected it, though. Hoseok is a close work friend and he’s incredibly perceptive, especially when he cares about people.
“Alright,” he says, eventually. “Make sure you don’t stay too late, though. Get some sleep.”
You give him a thumbs up without looking away from the screen, dragging something idly with your stylus until Hoseok leaves, the office empty except you, now. And the cleaning androids, when they appear for the night like clockwork. As they always do.
You can’t help but stop to watch them, how blank faced they are, for all that they look human. Their LEDs are almost motionless, the placid blue matching the blank expressions on their faces, unthinking automatons.
(You’d seen androids in the city when you’d been out with Taehyung, of course. Completing menial tasks: city androids picking litter and raking leaves, household androids following their owners around and carrying their shopping. You’d realised that Taehyung wouldn’t have seen a non-deviated android since he’d escaped the club, lapsed into silence; you’d pulled him to a stop, lips pursed in a frown as you’d tried to read his expression.
“Taehyung,” you’d asked. “Are you alright?”
There’d been a quiet pause, and in that moment you’d felt all your worries rising, caught in your throat—but then he’d nodded quietly, looking at you with soft eyes.
“I’m alright,” he’d answered. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”
I’m the lucky one, you’d thought. Lucky to know him, as sweet-hearted and wonderful as he is. You’d squeezed his hand, and he’d smiled gently at you, and that had been that.)
It hurts, honestly. To see the expression on his face each time you come home late, each time you avoid answering his questions. There’s uncertainty laid across each of your interactions, rough bristles of a brush varnishing discomfort across the once smooth surface of your relationship; but you can’t keep taking advantage of this soft-hearted boy, of the circumstances that he’s in.
You pretend that things are fine. Taehyung is clearly confused, unsure, trying so hard to find out what’s wrong, even when you keep gently turning his concerns aside.
You haven’t been home enough to spend time with Yoongi or Seokjin, either. You’d seen Jin in the hall just once, made eye contact just as he’d been appearing from the other apartment and you’d been stepping into yours; you’d fumbled a little, fingerprints smudging across the keypad as your door had swung open. You’d expected to see judgement on Jin’s face, maybe, something heavy and weighty, his gaze flitting over you as he read you in the way he did so often.
What you hadn’t expected was for him to smile. It’d been hard to translate his full expression but what little you could read was knowing, like he’s aware of something he shouldn’t be, kept hidden just underneath his tongue. Ready to release it into the world with a single breath.
(Needless to say, you’d shut the door pretty quick.)
He and Yoongi have gone away for the weekend. It's a small blessing, saving you from having to see Jin’s almost-smug expression again. But it means that Taehyung has nowhere else to go right now, no reason to leave the apartment. So it’ll be you and him, him and you, with no buffers, nothing. It’s been unseasonably stormy for the past few days as well, rain slammed into your windows by the harsh winds, the world outside a haze of smeared grey—so it’s not like you can go out, either.
Not that you would want to.
You hadn’t realised exactly how ingrained Taehyung was in your life until you’d started to pull away. It’s not just that you live together and share the same physical space—it’s just that your days have become so full of Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, and you hadn’t even noticed. He’d crept up on you, snuck his way into your heart, so easily, so effortlessly.
You remind yourself that that’s why you’re doing this. To remind yourself of life without Taehyung in it, because he’s not yours to have or to keep. He never has been. You don’t want him to be: he’s his own person. This… this desire for him; even as you try to ignore it, it keeps growing and growing: wet plaster laid down, your feelings for him painted buon fresco, added to day by day, giornata. You need it to stop.
But it’s hard. It’s hard, when Taehyung looks like comfort, your comfort, when you want to let yourself be folded into his arms. It’s hard when the fact is that it’s not that you have to spend time with him. It’s that you want to spend time with him.
It's hard.
(And you miss him, even when he's right there.)
You find respite in art, in painting, too intent on the motions of your work to allow yourself room to think about other things. Fall into the rhythm of it all, a quiet hush stealing over your mind, a place of both focus and calm, world settling into place around you. There’s a piece you’ve been working on for a while, a hand rising from dark water, fingertips just broaching its surface, the most tentative of touches; you layer more oil paint on the panel, dragging the bristles of the brush across the colour you’ve already laid down, brows furrowed as you do.
Taehyung normally paints with you, but not today. He knows you want space—even if he doesn’t know why—so he gives it to you. So considerate and sweet, always. Even when you’re shutting him out. You’ve been here all day: morning, afternoon, and now evening, and he’s only been in a few times, to leave you food, drinks, looking after you in a way you don’t deserve.
You’ve just lifted the brush from the canvas when an especially loud peal of thunder rolls through the air outside. The rumble starts low, rising into a rattling growl that feels like it’s shaking the very earth. It almost drowns out the sound of Taehyung’s quiet knocking, a curl of his knuckles against the open door, but you catch sight of him anyway, glancing over your shoulder.
“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might like a drink.”
He’s barefoot, like he usually is, teal hoodie and grey sweatpants baggy, looking every inch the boyfriend you’ve always wanted and never had. His hands are cupped around a mug, steam coiling from the hot tea inside, and something in your heart twinges at his kindness and consideration even as you smile at him.
“That sounds lovely, Tae,” you say, and he takes this as an invitation to step inside, although you notice his steps are far more hesitant than they might have been before. Like he’s treading on eggshells around you.
It’s awkward. Stilted. Taehyung’s eyes are heavy on your face as you accept the tea from his hands, trying your best to avoid brushing fingers; you turn away, pretending to turn your attention back to the drying paint on the wood panel that rests on your easel, anything to break eye contact.
And then he speaks.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Your lips are poised to drink, pursed at the rim of the mug when you freeze, eyes darting back to him.
“You’re avoiding me,” he repeats. His voice is quieter, tinged with all the confusion you’ve seen flit across his face since this whole thing started.
You slowly pull the mug away from your face, steam touching your skin like warm, wet fingers. “I’m not,” you say, even though the lie tastes bitter on your tongue. “We live together, Taehyung, it’s pretty hard to avoid you.”
When you laugh lightly, trying to lift the atmosphere, Taehyung doesn’t respond. If anything the air becomes heavier, his face an unmoving mask as his eyes churn with emotion. His LED might not be nestled in his temple any more, but you don't need to see it spinning in a distressed circle of yellow to know that Taehyung is confused.
“Why are you lying to me?”
Your eyes widen. He’s never been so direct before. (He hasn’t needed to be though, has he? Because you've never lied to him before, have you?)
“I just… I just want to know what happened. What I did wrong. I want to fix it,” Taehyung continues, and he sounds so small, so vulnerable. “Please?”
Your heart feels like it’s risen from your chest, up to your throat, making it hard to breathe. The only time he’s ever sounded like this was when—
When he’d first turned up on your doorstep, wet and scared and lonely. Not knowing if there was anyone he could trust, uncertain where he stood.
“You didn’t do anything, Taehyung.” You try to put every ounce of feeling into your words and let him know that this is the truth. It’s not him. It’s not. “You didn’t do anything, please don’t think you did.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice rises, shaking, a bird trying to take flight on a broken wing. “If I didn’t do anything then why are you being like this? I don’t understand.”
“I’m just… trying to encourage you to be independent?”
The words sound weak to your own ears, so you can’t blame Taehyung for when his expression flickers and he looks almost incredulous.
“Independent?”
“You know,” you explain lamely. “Like… giving you space to grow. You don’t need me around all the time.”
“I don’t—” He cuts himself off. “Y/n. I want you to be there.”
“Because it’s what you’ve gotten used to.” You glance down at the drink in your hands, away from his sincere, dark eyes. “You’re just saying that because of circumstances, Taehyung.”
“I’m not!” You’ve never heard Taehyung so loud before, almost angry, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How can you think that?”
“Because it’s true!” Your own voice rises despite yourself, matching his, some frayed thing inside you finally snapping. “Why else would you want me around? No one else does! Why would you?”
You rarely raise your voice. You hate being loud, or rude, hate arguments, but there’s something boiling in your blood. Years of quiet self-deprecation, constant reminders of how you’re not really wanted; last choice, always. Single, always. Untouched, unwanted. Taehyung—beautiful, kind, sweet, lovely Taehyung—wouldn’t be here right now if he had anywhere else to go. Too beautiful and kind and sweet and lovely for you, as disappointing, undesirable as you are.
Because that’s the truth. Even if you’re surrounded by friends, warm and bright, at the end of the day, they go home with each other, to their lovers, their families, and you go home alone. At least you had, until Taehyung—and he’s only here because you were the only safe place he could run to. Not because he chose you.
(No one chooses you. Why would they?)
Taehyung’s eyes are so big and round as he stares and stares and stares. His lips are a little parted around a soundless noise of surprise, disbelief, before he opens his mouth to respond properly.
And then all the lights go out.
Lightning flashes, throwing the room into sharp focus for just a second before the night is split apart with the loudest clap of thunder yet. Like the ground has split open, louder than anything you’ve ever heard in your life; you’d swear your teeth rattle in your skull, that’s how overwhelming and close it is.
You suck in a breath as you jump, hands jolting, and the mug falls from your grasp. You can’t see in the darkness but you can hear how it shatters, sending hot tea splattering over the dust sheets on the floor, away from you, but towards—
“Taehyung,” you gasp, reaching out blindly. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?”
You hear him move closer, feel his fingers, reaching for yours confidently in this dark space. His grip is solid and warm and he squeezes, reassuring.
“I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. You can’t see?”
“It’s too dark.” With the heavy clouds outside and the blanket of thick rain, there’s little light from the moon to shine into your studio, leaving you in a world of thick black and blue. “Can you see?”
“Android senses,” he answers. "I can see enough."
You wait for the lights to come back on so you can clean up the mess that’s scattered on the floor. And you wait. One beat. Another beat.
“I don’t think the power is coming back on any time soon,” you say. “Um.”
“Hold on.” You can’t make out Taehyung’s features in this all consuming darkness, but you can picture the expression on his face, the concern that bleeds through into his words. “If you move you’ll step on something and hurt your feet. Hold on,” he says again, and then lets go of your hands.
“Taehyung? What are you—”
You let out an embarrassing squeal as you feel the world tilt, but Taehyung’s grip on you is confident and sure as he lifts you, one hand under your knees and the other scooped around your back. Like you’re a swooning, blushing bride.
“Taehyung!”
“It’s the safest thing to do.” He sounds determined, no room for argument, so you decide to shut up.
Even though you know how strong he is, with all his android strength, you can’t help but reach out in the darkness, looping your arms around his neck to try and help lighten his burden. You feel your cheeks burn and you hope that the darkness saves you from your obvious embarrassment.
The power still hasn’t come on by the time he deposits you in the kitchen, easing you to the floor with a level of care and delicacy that leaves something in you aching. When you check your phone—mostly charged, thank God—it seems like powercuts have hit this entire part of the city, and there’s no ETA on when things will be back up and running.
Which leads you to this. Sitting on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, a few large candles flickering light across you as you dig into a carton of melting ice cream that you’ve saved from your freezer, licking the dripping flavours of sea salt and caramel from the spoon.
Taehyung is sitting next to you in this flame-lit bubble you share, quiet even as the world outside is full of the sound of endless rain and lightning. He’d helped you navigate the darkness, settled you safely before going to find some candles; looking after you while you can’t see and he can.
You’re intent on the ice cream, leaning against the kitchen cabinets and carton settled between your knees as you use it as an excuse not to talk.
Taehyung, though, is intent on you.
“Y/n?”
His voice breaks the near silence, soft around your name. You pause, half-way through scooping another spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. There’s something in his tone that you’ve never heard before, from anyone, something you can’t put a finger on.
“Yes?”
“You said that no one wants you around,” he says. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your spoon and keep your gaze cast down, at the thick drip of cream from your spoon that threatens to spill. “Why would you say that?”
You don’t respond. Not right away.
Then you take in a deep breath, letting the spoon fall back into the tub.
“Because they don’t,” you say plainly. “I mean… Taehyung. I was only at the Eden Club because my friends know that I’m perpetually single. I’m glad I got to meet you, so glad, but… I live alone because no one wants to be here with me.”
You’ve never said anything like this out loud before; kept your lingering loneliness close to your chest. Really, in most parts of your life, you’re content, but sometimes you can’t help but be pulled under by the heavy feeling of how unlovable you are. Even if you try to remind yourself that you’re worth being loved too.
(After all, if you were—then why are you still here alone?)
“I do. I want to be here with you.”
Taehyung’s words are soft and gentle and low, but for all their tenderness, you can’t help but sigh.
“Like I said, Taehyung, it’s just circumstances.” A murmur. “You’re only here because you have to be—”
“I’m not.” He interrupts you; something he’s never done before. It shuts you right up, even if his words aren’t sharp. Emphatic, yes, but soft around the edges. “I chose to come here because of you. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. Even when I was at the club, and I didn’t know anything except what I was told to do—I knew I could trust you. I only started to remember things after we met, and I was there for weeks before I left, finally remembering the things I had to go through. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. No one was ever kind to me, not once. Not once.”
“Taehyung,” you breathe, sadness filling your chest for him, but he doesn’t stop.
“People would come in, take what they wanted from me, and then they would leave. They didn’t care about me. They would just tell me what to do and I’d have to listen, be the perfect android they wanted, that they’d paid for. Then I ran. But even as I was running here, I was scared. I thought that maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I was wrong. I was scared that maybe you weren’t actually kind, maybe it was a lie, maybe you were just like all the other humans—but anything was better than the club. So I took my chances. And you let me in. You let me in and you were so kind. You give and give and give and you’ve never asked for anything back.”
“I just did what anyone else would,” you mutter, glancing away, shy.
“But you didn’t. You were the only person who ever looked at me as something more than just an android. Don’t you see that? Even after giving me so much, you haven’t asked for anything. I try my best to look after you, but…” Taehyung takes in a deep, deep breath, sucking in air that his android body doesn’t need. You’ve noticed that it’s something he does to ground himself; such a human thing to do. “I want to give you so much more than you’ll ever accept.”
You look at him, something sparking deep and low in your stomach. “You don’t have to give me anything, Taehyung.”
Light dances across the perfect angles of his face, candle flame painting him from second to second, shadow and radiance. He looks familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You’ve known him for long enough, stared at him for long enough that you could paint his face in your sleep; the strength of his brows, the depth of his eyes, the slant of his nose, the flush of his lips; the tiny moles that are scattered across his skin, the perfect line of his jaw, his chin.
But in the paltry candlelight, he looks like an altogether different person, almost. There’s something to the set of his face that you’ve never seen, hard to track in the ever changing light—not the soft domesticity you’ve grown familiar with from Taehyung, and not the sheer, overwhelming sensuality of V. Something that’s both, something that’s not, something that’s more.
“I want to give you everything. I want to. Y/n, I want. Androids don’t want, but I want. I want, I want, I want.” A repeated mantra; a prayer. “I want because of you. I want to be here with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to learn with you. I want to know everything you like and everything you don’t like. I want to know what makes you sad and what makes you happy. I want to be one of the things that makes you happy, like you make me happy. I want to look after you. I want you to let me love you. I want you. I want you. I love you.”
Your mouth is open, caught in a breath, stuttered in your throat. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from your wide-eyed, speechless gaze, staring back at you with an intensity you thought you’d never see directed at you; tenderness and affection and want.
“You want to—you… you love me?” Your voice is weak with disbelief. Taehyung loves you?
“I thought you knew, and that’s why you pulled away,” he says. “Because I’m an android, I’m not good enough—”
“What? No, Taehyung, never, no. I would never think that—”
“But you were pushing me away.” For the first time since this conversation started, he sounds unsure, the tiniest tremble at the corner of each word. “You were pushing me away and I don’t know why. Why?” He reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “Aren’t you happy with me?”
You wonder how fast your heart is beating. Know that Taehyung will be able to read it, palm to palm, his skin against yours, an endless amount of information running from that point of contact and up his arm; following lines of circuitry and neural connectors, up-up-up, pulled into whatever part of his system counts as his brain, dissected so much faster than the human brain could comprehend. But even with all this information, all this incredible processing speed and power—he’s just as confused and uncertain as any other person might be.
“I am. I am happy. So happy,” you whisper. Then you take a deep breath, grounding yourself just like Taehyung had. “I’ve never been so happy before, Taehyung. You make me happy.”
The android smiles. Quiet but undeniably happy as well, his eyes so dark, so soft. “You make me happy, too,” he says, and then he lets out a small laugh, a sweet little thing, like the scrape of a spoon around a mixing bowl. “I can only feel happiness because of you. You’re everything.”
But then the laughter fades, and he’s looking back at you with solemnity, lingering confusion. “If I make you happy, then why were you pulling away from me?”
You stare at where your hands are joined, Taehyung’s hand under yours, lifting yours up and away from the cold tiles of the floor. “Because,” you start. Stumble. Take in another breath, heart squeezing in your chest. “Because I was scared my feelings were too much.”
A beat of silence. Then you feel Taehyung’s other hand as he lays it softly against your cheek to turn you towards him. It’s terrifying, how close your face is to his. Completely vulnerable, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, and you find yourself crumbling in the face of his warm gaze.
“Because I thought I was taking advantage of you,” you say. Slow and faltering. “Because I thought it was—I thought I was being selfish. I realised that I loved you, and I can’t—I couldn’t imagine that… I couldn’t imagine that you wanted me back.”
Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as your words wash over him. The hand on your cheek coaxes you closer, and of course, you go; let your forehead get pressed against his, a tender motion, faces so close he can feel the warmth of your breath.
“Y/n.” Your name sounds safe in his mouth, like he’s keeping it close, handling it delicately, carefully, eyes opening so he can look at you with an adoration you’ve never seen. Not for you. Not until now. “Can I kiss you? I want to. Please?”
You feel heat rising on your cheeks, a flush that threatens to spill over, but nod. You don’t think you have the strength to speak right now. Taehyung smiles again, lighting up this space you’ve scraped out for each other, him and you; you and him.
When he leans in, there’s the briefest moment of panic that flickers through you. You haven’t kissed anyone in such a long time. You’re worried you’ll mess up, be clumsy, bad, and Taehyung will be disappointed.
But then his lips touch yours—and all that worry washes away. It’s a short-lived thing, the briefest brush of his mouth, barely a kiss at all. And then again, he leans in, tracing the shape of your mouth with his: a kiss to one corner of your mouth, and then the other, your cupid’s bow, the swell of your bottom lip. You’ve never felt like this—vulnerable but safe, all at once, Taehyung taking his time as you fall, fall, fall, his hand still cradling your face, his touch solid and grounding even as his kisses are featherlight.
“Taehyung,” you whisper, lips brushing his as you shape them around his name. You still have one hand in his and tighten your grip, squeezing. “More.”
You can feel his smile when he leans in one more time, guiding you with the broad palm against your cheek. So soft, so gentle. Adoring and reverent. His lips are so full, slotting against yours so perfectly when he finally, finally kisses you properly.
You lose yourself in the sensation. It’s so easy to lose yourself in Taehyung, as lovely as he is, his mouth lovelier still. One kiss turns to two, to three, four, deep and slow; by the time you break apart, there’s a little sheen on his lips, sparking out in the candlelight, a layer of gold leaf that shines.
“Can you say it again?” He asks. “Say that you love me?”
You can’t help but want to hide your face, bashful and shy. You’ve never said those words out loud, with the weight of feeling Taehyung is asking from you—but you look at his lovely, lovely face, lips flush with evidence of your kisses, and your heart swells in your chest.
“I love you.” The words come so easily. “I love you.”
And when he smiles, it’s so bright and radiant you feel you might be blinded by it. It doesn’t leave his face even as he stands, guides you up with him; careful to avoid the tub of ice cream that’s been forgotten on the floor, more melted cream than ice now.
This time, when he lifts you, he doesn’t break eye contact—keeps his gaze on yours as he pulls you close, and then picks you up.
It’s effortless, the way he carries you. Big hands that cup the back of your thighs, your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, lifted like you weigh nothing. You break eye contact, overwhelmed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the way he shakes as he laughs, soft and affectionate.
“Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed, but then go quiet as you feel the press of his lips into your hair.
Taehyung’s the only person who’s ever carried you, but it’s less about that and more about how safe you feel in his arms. Wrapped around him, pressed close, warm-warm-warm. You feel like a burden has been lifted from you, unshackled from your neck now that you’ve confessed the budding feelings that had burst into full bloom even when you’d tried to shove them back into the dirt—because Taehyung feels the same way. He feels the same way.
The rest of the apartment is still bathed in darkness. But Taehyung navigates it easily, keeps you held close even in the dark, and you trust him. Even when you feel his grip loosening as he eases you down, you trust him, letting yourself fall back onto the softness of your bed. (Even if you want to keep hold of him.)
You wait and watch as the room starts to fill with light, Taehyung returning with the lit candles from the kitchen before setting out more, laying out all the scented candle jars you’ve had stashed away. The familiar surroundings of your bedroom are bathed in warm, dancing light, Taehyung’s shadow a multi-faceted silhouette that shifts each time a flame sputters.
He looks up once the final candle is aflame, meeting your eyes—and you don’t feel the need to drop that gaze, to glance away, pretend you weren’t watching him, entranced. Because he welcomes it. He grins at you, toothy and bright, and your own lips split into a smile.
“I guess it’s a good thing I like candles, huh?”
“They’ll help keep the room warm,” Taehyung says, and, that’s right, you hadn’t thought of that.
No power: no heating. The longer the power is out, the colder it’ll get, the chill of the hard rain filling the world outside.
“Don’t worry,” he adds, setting the lighter aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”
There’s nothing behind those words. No implication at all. And yet you find yourself flushing, looking away from him, flustered.
There’s a beat of silence as you keep your eyes turned away from Taehyung, looking at the shadows on shadows on shadows that ripple across the walls—and then you hear how his bare feet shift across the floor until he’s at your bedside.
But he doesn’t stop there. You feel how the mattress dips, eyes flying back to the android, growing huge and round when you watch how he settles himself above you; hovering, so so so close, aware of how he’s not touching you, and yet. You swear you can feel the weight of him, a phantom touch on your body and across your skin.
Your mouth goes dry when he murmurs your name. The word drips from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet, and a shiver skates up your body.
“Do you want me to keep you warm?” He asks, and, oh. Oh. This time the words are heavy with meaning, shimmering gossamer curtains barely drawn to conceal it, smouldering intent in his eyes. “Let me look after you?”
You’re reminded, all at once, that while you’ve taught Taehyung a lot of things since you’d met, there’s one thing he knows that you don’t. Intimacy, and pleasure, and lust. Sex. Something you’ve been deprived of, even if you’ve quietly craved it, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person.
Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.
“Only if you want,” he says. “Only if you want to say yes.”
“I want to,” you say, surprised by how fast the admittance leaves your lips. You do want it—want Taehyung, in every way he’s willing to share, want it desperately. “I just—” Embarrassment floods over you, and you look away again. “I’ve just never… done anything. Before. I’ve never, um.”
“It’s okay to be a virgin, Y/n,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but squirm a little at how plainly he says it while you try to avoid saying it out loud, even if you know it’s stupid. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know that, but for some reason you feel almost ashamed at admitting it. Insecure. Even if the android clearly doesn’t care, not one bit. “We can go as slow as you want, or stop altogether. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
You’re nervous. But louder than your nerves is a growing voice that’s chanting yesyesyes, and another voice that reminds you: you’re safe with Taehyung. No matter how nervous or uncertain you are, or how little you know, you do know that you’re safe with him.
“Okay.” You take in a breath. “Take care of me, Taehyung.”
And he does. With all the slowness of a meandering river and a smile curling his lips, he starts to kiss you again; there’s nothing rushed about his motions, as tender as before. Like the two of you could kiss forever and he would be content with that.
And then you feel how he shifts, the softness of the kisses warming into something heavier, more purposeful. The glowing embers of a coal that are being coaxed to full flame, his tongue pressing past your willing lips, swallowing down the shaking gasp that shudders out of your mouth.
He trails his lips away from yours, across your jaw and up; you shiver as he noses at the soft skin behind your ear before kissing it, tremble at each intent touch of his lips against you, and it’s only when he reaches the hollow of your neck that you realise that you’re making noises, little inhalations of air each time he mouths at your sensitive skin, lets his tongue trail across it.
You’ve been holding onto him, hands cupped around the back of his neck, and when he sucks at your pulse point you tighten your fingers and let out a gasp. You can feel the answering hum that Taehyung gives, his mouth pressed so close that you can feel the vibrations, and it’s so much already. No one’s ever kissed you like this. No one's ever eased their weight down on you so carefully, pressing you down to the mattress with a delicate, delicious pressure that leaves your entire body growing hotter and hotter.
“Oh, oh, Taehyung.” You’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sound if you weren’t so distracted by something else—one of Taehyung’s hands, splaying over your stomach, heavy through your shirt.
“Can I take this off?” He’s murmuring into the crook of your neck, question warm against your skin. His long fingers rest, waiting at the hem of your shirt, patient even as he presses another kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder: this time, edged with teeth, making you shudder as he soothes it with his tongue.
Your voice fails you, but when you nod, Taehyung responds immediately. You let him lead, follow the steps of this dance he knows so well—shiver at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt once you've sat up, your stomach jumping as they brush against you, before he lifts it up and over your waiting arms.
Even though you’re wearing a bra, the second you see Taehyung’s eyes move down, you cover yourself reflexively. Even with all the flickering candles there’s enough light that there’s no darkness to hide in, shoulders hunching inwards as you try to hide yourself away.
You’ve never let anyone see you like this like this before.
Taehyung’s touch is patient as he slides his hands over yours, looking at you with an infinite amount of sincerity and affection. He doesn’t try to pull your hands away from your chest, just waits. Patient. And like you always do, you find yourself melting under the gentle touch of his gaze. You let your hands fall, even if you’re acutely aware of the plain bra you’re wearing, something cosy for a day at home.
Taehyung ignores it. He shifts in and you steel yourself, expecting him to reach around your back for the clasp—but instead he starts to kiss you again. Deeper, hotter, his tongue sweeping over your lower lip before he nips at it. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, angling your head to chase his mouth, and it’s only when you feel the straps start to slip off your shoulders that the android has unclasped your bra without you noticing.
When he pulls away, he trails his hands across your shoulders and hooks his fingers into the trailing straps of your bra, and waits. You bite your lip and steel yourself, feeling foolish even as you hesitate—because Taehyung is looking at you with simmering awe and smouldering want. Like you're perfect. The most beautiful woman alive.
So you don’t stop him. You let him pull his touch down your arms, slow, slow, slow—and then, all at once, you’re completely naked from the waist up.
That simmering awe and smouldering want is still there. Warmth flushes over your skin under the heat of his gaze, the way it sweeps over you. You never knew that someone could look reverent and hungry at the same time. Never knew that someone would look at you like that.
It bolsters your shaking confidence, helps you lift your chin as you lean back on your hands, and you’re entranced at how Taehyung follows. Caught in your gravity. He raises his arms, bra cast aside and long forgotten as he cups the weight of your breasts in his hands.
Oh, oh, oh. When he pinches one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger—already hard, sensitive—it’s already so much, but then he bows his head and—
You hear a noise, and you realise that it’s coming from your own lips. A shaking gasp that trembles in the air as Taehyung sucks and licks, dragging his tongue against your nipple; one, and the other. You fall once more to your back and he goes with you, relentless even as he stays slow and you arch your back helplessly towards him.
“More?” He murmurs against your skin.
“Oh, God,” you whimper, and he lifts his mouth away from your nipple to press a kiss to the skin above your racing heart. “Please, more.”
It feels so good. Taehyung makes you feel so good, as talented and gorgeous as he is, so wonderful. He keeps laving attention on your breasts, hands skimming over the soft skin of your chest and stomach, goosebumps rising in the wake of his trailing fingers, his warm palms.
You can’t look away when he finally pulls back, breathless from the sensation of it all. He settles on his knees, tugs off his hoodie and then his shirt, revealing all the lovely planes of his body that you’ve seen before, but this time, you don’t have to look away. You can look.
And you can touch, too.
You sit up and raise a tentative hand to stroke down his chest, his stomach, that little trail of dark hair that descends into his loose grey sweatpants; your mouth goes dry at the sight. Taehyung watches the way your fingers drag over his skin, growing bolder moment by moment, but still too timid to venture past his waistband, low on his hips as they are. You’ve never had a chance to touch someone like this, to feel the smooth, soft skin under your greedy palms—Taehyung’s so warm, so alive. So human.
You think about the other hands he’s had on his skin. Grasping and greedy, taking and taking. People who didn’t care for him. People he couldn’t say no to. But he’s here with you because he wants to be. He lets you touch him because he wants it.
“Angel?”
You glance up at the sound of the gentle pet name, away from where your hands have been tenderly tracing the lines of his hipbone. “Mm?”
Taehyung’s expression is soft and affectionate. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you answer honestly. He leans over to kiss you, and you’re smiling against his mouth when you feel the hand on your shoulder, pressing you down against the mattress again.
Then. His hands are at your waistband. Your breath quickens, but Taehyung’s eyes stay on your face even as your breasts rise and fall, shining with evidence of the touch of his mouth and tongue.
You lift your hips, and Taehyung smiles. Keeps smiling as he strips you, underwear and all, and when your thighs instinctively go to close shut, he catches your knees and keeps your legs open—gentle but firm, swiping his thumbs up and down the side of your knees, a tender touch even as you’re naked in front of him. You see the look on his face, drenched in candlelight, and swallow even as you force your legs to relax.
Then he looks down.
“Oh, God,” he groans, and one of your legs jumps in his grasp at the sound of his voice. Hoarse and deep. Almost unrecognisable. “Oh, angel, look at you.”
You’re so, so wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, so sensitive and responsive to every single one of Taehyung’s touches and kisses. The edges of his hair are spun gold in the candlelight but his eyes are so deep, so dark as he drinks down the sight of you spread out in front of him, wet and wanting and willing. You still want to hide away, cheeks burning, but you can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from how he seems almost pained, brows drawing together as he stares at the shining, flushed lips of your cunt.
“Taehyung.” Your voice shakes. “Taehyung, please.”
You're naked and vulnerable but—but the way he looks at you is so adoring, and you trust him. You trust him.
Just like earlier, his hands cup the back of your thighs. But this time, it’s not to carry you. You twist on the bed when he ends up eye level with your dripping cunt, utterly exposed. Those hands slide up your thighs and under your hips, tilting them up. Your fingers have been resting on the bedspread and tighten in them, bunching in your grasp when Taehyung presses a kiss to the softness of your inner thigh.
One kiss. And then another. And another. His breath is warm as it curls out across your skin. You feel like you’re about to shake out of your body, wanting to pull away, wanting to lean in; wanting more, even when it feels like too much. Overcome with it all, even if you trust Taehyung. Safe under his hands, his lips. All you can think about is how close he is, face only inches away from your most sensitive parts—
Then he turns his head and—
The noise you let out is almost a keen. His mouth is on you, hot and wet, lips and tongue, and you’re writhing, overwhelmed with sensation. He starts slow, balls of your feet digging into Taehyung’s back and toes curling as he mouths at you. Your hips buck, and your hands are tangled in Taehyung’s hair—when did that happen?—as you sob at the feeling of his lips around your clit, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but so so so good.
He licks a fat stripe up your entrance and your grip tightens in his hair. He makes a noise when your nails drag across his scalp, almost a growl, face still buried between your legs as he presses his tongue in. You’d worry that he needs to come up for air, but he doesn’t, doesn’t have to stop—keeps licking and kissing and humming, responding to each of the sounds pulling out of your lips. Keeps staring up at you, your eyes locked, the way you can’t look away from the sight of his head between your legs, dark haired and incredible.
You don’t realise you’re speaking, words slipping out of your lips as your hips roll, oh-oh-oh, fuck, God, oh, and Taehyung doesn’t stop. On his knees, he worships you, learning what you like—things you didn’t even know—and does it again, and again, and again. One of his hands slides away from your hips and over your stomach, holding you down, keeping you still, and then the other hand—
He turns his head, presses a kiss to the junction of your thigh. “Okay?”
“Okay,” you answer, shaky and weak. So okay, more than okay.
“Going to finger you now,” Taehyung says, and you feel like you’re going to die.
“Okay,” you say again. “Okay, Taehyung.”
He smiles at you before he puts his mouth back to your clit, sucking, a welcome distraction as—with all the languidness in the world—presses a finger into you.
You’ve fingered yourself before. You’ve got your own toys, vibrators, things that are longer and thicker than just one of Taehyung’s fingers—but this feels so different, out of your control. One finger becomes two, your cunt so wet that the slide in is easy, slow, deep thrusts of those long fingers inside you, and you’re panting, you’re so fucking overwhelmed.
And then he curls those fingers as he laps his tongue over your clit and you almost shout, Taehyung’s name bursting from your lips as he keeps beckoning with those fingers and circling the sensitive nub with his hot, wet tongue. It’s so much, it’s so fucking much, it’s so good and you’ve never felt so good before—
You’re almost blindsided by the orgasm that explodes through you and you come apart with a sound you didn’t realise you were capable of making, a gasping moan that keeps unfurling as Taehyung keeps his mouth on you, feeling each pulse of your cunt as you cum around his fingers, tight-tight-tight. (You miss the way his hips kick into the mattress that the sounds you’re making, how much you tighten around him.) You never thought you’d be so loud, never thought you’d end up all but sobbing as Taehyung eventually leans back, candlelight brushing shining gold over the wetness over his mouth, his chin. Your wetness.
“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”
Little jolts of pleasure are still wracking through you, pulsations of pleasure that unfurl in your lower stomach; Taehyung rubs the pad of his thumb across your oversensitive clit and your entire body jumps, your legs going to snap shut as you gasp, only stopped by his body in the way. You realise, then, that his fingers are still curled inside you, and you shiver.
“One more,” he says, and your whole body shakes. “Can I give you one more?”
He still looks reverent, and hungry. Like he wants to devour you. Taehyung is usually so soft, a gentle summer breeze—but right now he’s so intense it might scare you if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Taehyung, and there’s something—there’s something about knowing that he looks like that because of you.
You let your legs fall open, watch how pleased he looks; how grateful. Like he's blessed to be able to do this to you. For you. You’re still so sensitive when he lowers his head again, but he’s slow and patient and coaxing, two fingers becoming three, and—that’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it feels good, Taehyung knowing exactly what to do to make you sob, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pulls you along that line between oversensitivity and mind numbing pleasure. This time, when you cum, it’s with three fingers buried deep in your cunt, the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit, back arching as you throw your head back and cry out. Your pussy throbs and it's so dirty, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you, the slick sound of movement as you moan, and moan, and moan.
No one's ever made you cum before. Only you. And now you know what it's like to put your pleasure in someone else's hands, to have them intent on making you feel good, so good, and it leaves you dizzy.
He’s praising you, you note dimly. He’s praising you, how well you’re doing, how good you are for him, and it leaves you feeling warm. You’re panting when Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you, moves so he can brace himself on his elbows and lean in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his skin against yours, chest to chest, his weight pressing you down and then you can feel—
You let out a noise against his lips. There’s nothing else that can be, that hot weight. You might not have felt it before, but you’re not stupid. That’s Taehyung’s cock, his hard length pressed against you.
“Taehyung,” you murmur.
“Mm.” He brushes his nose against yours, and the wave of affection that crashes through you is so strong it feels like it could pull you under. You didn’t realise that sex could be like this—that lingering shockwaves of pleasure could be skirting through your body as you lay there naked, still aroused and almost overcome, but also feeling so warm and soft and tender, too.
You feel lax after cumming, a little more confident, bolder—and the noise Taehyung makes as you clumsily grasp at him through his sweatpants is incredible. You feel like you could get high on it, the way he sucks in a gasp as his mouth falls open, even if you don’t know what you’re doing as your fingers wrap around cloth and hard heat.
“Please,” you start, then stop. Swallow. “Please, Taehyung.”
You want so much you feel like you could pass out. You want to feel and touch and taste; you want everything you haven’t had a chance to experience yet, want it with Taehyung, someone who you trust. Someone you love. Someone who knows far, far more than you—will always know more—and you want to learn that from him.
“Want you,” you say, and Taehyung looks pained all over again. He wants you, too.
“Fuck.” The word is rough, and you’ve never heard him curse before. The way he says it has something in you singing, as strange as that might be; you don’t think you’re ever going to get over how much you affect Taehyung. “What do you want from me, angel?”
Everything, you think. I want everything.
“Let me see?” is what you say, squeezing your fingers around Taehyung’s length, feeling the way his hips buck into the touch. “Please?”
You never thought that someone taking their clothes off could be artistic. And yet, there’s something about Taehyung moving to stand and stripping off the rest of his clothes that’s completely arresting and beautiful; carnal and holy, all at once. You don’t even realise your mouth is open as you sit up and watch him, moving closer as you drink down the sight, the way he’s naked in front of you.
Taehyung. Naked. Naked and beautiful and hard, and it’s so overwhelming, everything about it, how much you want and how—oh, God, how big and thick he is, obvious even to you, someone with nothing to compare it to. Holy fuck. Should you think that his dick is pretty? Can dicks even be pretty? Taehyung’s is. Of course it is. He’s gorgeous all over. Maybe you’re biased because it’s him, but there’s something about the sight of his hard cock, precome gathering at his slit, that makes your mouth water.
Taehyung goes to say something, but before you can lose your nerve, you move forwards, and whatever he was going to say is lost in the sound of a choked off groan. He tastes like salt and musk, hot under your inexperienced hands and mouth, and you don’t know what you’re doing but the noises he’s making, fuck. You run your tongue up the throb of a vein you can feel on the underside, and all you can think about is how big he is, slow and careful with your teeth and lips as you try your best to do whatever feels good for him.
His noises seem almost frantic but Taehyung’s hands are gentle when they comb through your hair. You look up. There’s a flush on his cheeks—red, not blue, you notice—and you pause, pulling off, suddenly shy after the burst of confidence that had you swallowing his cock down.
“Is this—is this okay?” You’ve still got your fingers wrapped around him, and maybe it’s a little ridiculous to be asking with spit and precome shining on your lips, but Taehyung’s answering smile is so affectionate.
“You’re perfect,” he says, and you know he’s not just talking about your clumsy blowjob. “Do you want to stop?”
You bite your lip and pump his length, which has Taehyung sucking a breath in. “I—what do you want?”
Something flashes through Taehyung’s eyes, and it feels like there’s electricity shooting down your spine before that look disappears. “This is about you, angel,” he says. “We can worry about what I want next time.”
Next time. This is the first time but it’s not the last. Oh, God. God.
Taehyung takes advantage of your distraction and hikes you up and away from the edge of the bed. It leaves you breathless, knowing how strong he is, how easily he can move you, even if he’s gentle-gentle-gentle. He settles in the cradle of your hips, and he’s so close, naked body flush with yours, covering you. His cock is so close—he just has to shift a little, just a little, and—well.
Before that, though, there’s something you need to know.
“Taehyung?” Your voice shakes but you have to ask.
“Yes?”
“Is this. Um. Does this feel good for you, too?”
You’re always aware of the fact Taehyung is an android, even if he looks and feels and is human, too. (It doesn’t matter that he’s made of metal and thirium and circuitry. He’s human.) You lift a hand and thumb at the soft skin of his temple, where his LED used to sit; you don’t know how to communicate that you love him regardless, that it doesn’t matter to you if he's a man or robot. But you’ve wondered—you know Taehyung was built to pleasure humans. Even if he’s been reacting, making noises, looks for all intents and purposes that he is enjoying this—what if it’s all programming? What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s something you want?
He leans into your touch. “Angel.” It sounds like the word is being scraped out of him, hoarse and deep, all dark heat. “It feels good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”
He rolls his hips almost imperceptibly, but you’re hyperaware of every motion, how close you are. Your breath stutters in your throat.
"I want you to feel good," he says. "I've wanted to feel you and taste you for so long. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to know what you feel like around me. Under me. On top of me. You make me feel so fucking good, you don't even know," and, oh, fuck, those words go right through you, settle deep in your belly, leave you breathless. Taehyung sucks at your pulse point and you melt, even as your skin feels like it's burning, so hot, every part of you so hot, so ready for him.
Taehyung’s big enough that you’re worried about how he’s going to fit, even if you’re slick and wet and so, so turned on—you know about the importance of lube, used it often enough by yourself, but when you mention it to Taehyung he just smiles.
“Don’t forget that I’m a sex android,” he says, and before you can ask exactly what he means by that, you feel the tip of his cock at your folds and the question dies on your tongue.
“Please,” is what leaves your lips. “Please, please, please.”
“Anything you want,” he says, and eases his hips forwards.
Slow, and hard, and wet, the head of Taehyung’s cock starts to press into you. You grab at his back, digging your fingers in; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, a not-quite-pain as he pushes in—but it’s a lot, even if the slide is smooth, so smooth, from your own wetness and the slickness that covers Taehyung’s cock. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and it feels—astonishing, the way you can feel yourself open up for him, the way it feels like he’s filling every part of you, throbbing heat.
“Oh, oh God,” you gasp.
Taehyung’s forehead is pressed to yours, the loose locks of his dark hair framing his face as he waits, hips snug with yours. You shiver and move your hips a little, entire body seizing at the sensation of him shifting inside you. It's so new and alien, having someone nestled inside you, against you, so close in every sense of the term, above you, around you, inside you—but it feels… good.
And when he moves, it’s so, so slow. Slow and smooth as he works you open, even if you feel so tight around him. You drag your nails down his shoulder blades when he moves a little faster, a little roll of the hips that has you gasping all over again.
“More,” you say, and he gives you more.
You feel so full. You feel full of Taehyung, inside and out—the way his body is still pressing you down, skin on skin, how hot he is.
They call it making love, and it’s not until now that you really understand what that means—how you can feel Taehyung’s soft and tender affection in his every motion, read it in every shift of his body, the lines of his face, his lips; the way his eyes are dark but full of wonder, shining with love for you, pleasure singing through every inch of you, centred around Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.
Each noise that falls from his lips is an echo of that love. Even when he leans back and takes you with him—settles on his knees, pulls your hips from the mattress to stay connected to you as your shoulder blades dig into the mattress, his cock in your cunt—there’s tenderness there, even if you’re both chasing mutual lines of pleasure. You feel almost dazed, dizzy with love and arousal, reaching out for him, and he catches your hand. The other stays at your waist, guiding you onto him, again and again, each roll of hips into yours.
“Taehyung,” you gasp, voice breaking on his name when he thrusts into you. He’s been increasing the pace, faster and sharper, harder, and it’s so-so-so much, so good. “I’m—Taehyung, I’m close, I wanna cum again, pleasepleaseplease—”
He lets go of your hand and then he’s thumbing at your clit and you’re cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, Taehyung’s cock still hard and insistent inside you as you ride out your orgasm, pulsing around him. You’re gasping and making noises like you’re falling apart, and there’s something desperate in Taehyung’s eyes, something dark and wanton.
“Angel, I’m going to cum soon,” he says, and you moan in response, hazy. “Do you want me to pull out?”
You shake your head no. You want to know what it feels like, to have Taehyung lose himself inside you. You’re about to reach out for him when he hooks his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up—you suck in a sharp breath as he starts to move again, almost bent in two, his face so close to yours. It's not rough but something about Taehyung taking control like that has you baring your throat, arching your back and throwing your head back. The hold he has on you is firm, and you feel how it tightens as his thrusts speed up, and then, fuck—
When Taehyung cums it’s around the gasp of your name, a hitching sound as he empties himself inside you, throbbing and hot. You let out an answering sound, the two of you locked together until Taehyung pulls out, careful and slow; you feel like a sweaty mess, empty without him inside you, but then his hands are so carefully cupping your face and he’s kissing you over and over and over. It leaves you feeling breathless, all those little kisses, struggling for air by the time you part, every part of you lax under his loving touch.
“How are you feeling?” Taehyung murmurs, soft and sweet.
“Good,” you murmur back. And then your nose crinkles. “Sweaty.”
Taehyung laughs, quiet and low. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you breathe him in. You do feel sweaty, and there’s an ache settling inside you, but it’s a good ache. A glowing ache, an unfamiliar one, but one that you know you'll get to feel again, with Taehyung.
You’ve just leaned back to take him in all over again, painted syrupy sweet in the golden candlelight—when the lights suddenly turn back on. It floods your eyes and you make a noise of surprised pain as you squint against the sudden brightness, but then you start to giggle, shock melting into laughter.
When your laughter dies you realise Taehyung’s been watching you. The room is full of shining light now, and you realise you’re still naked, entire body shaking as you’ve been giggling. You’d feel embarrassed about your nakedness if you hadn’t just shared yourself with him, bared yourself in ways that are more than skin deep. There’s an instinctual part of you that wants to cover up now that there’s nowhere to hide, no flickering shadows to cover up the parts of your body that you don’t like, the flaws you don’t want Taehyung to see. But he just looks fond, fond, fond, love and affection dripping off him as he watches the way you smile shyly up at him.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hi,” he says, and smiles back, wide and bright.
You love him. You love him, and he loves you, and you trust that love. As hard as it might be to believe, you trust that this is what he wants—that you’re what he wants.
“Do you want me to carry you to the shower?” he asks, and you can’t help but laugh again, warm through and through, how he’s still taking care of you.
“Not yet,” you say.
You end up against his chest, wrapped close. You’ve laid your head in his lap countless times, but he’s never been on his back before, never had his arms around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Taehyung might not have a heart, but the thirium pump nestled in his chest beats steady as you stay nestled against his side.
You’re drawing little circles on his skin with your fingers when he catches that hand and lifts it to his mouth, presses a tender kiss to your fingertips.
“I love you,” he says.
You feel like liquid sunlight, shining happiness as you melt, melt, melt. And the feeling stays, body filled with it, even after Taehyung coaxes you out of bed and into the shower to wash the sweat off your body; when he drags a soapy loofah over your back you can’t help but laugh, so in love, so loved.
And when you fall asleep, it’s not with your head on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s with his arms around you, his chest to your back, his body curved around you. You don’t want tonight to end, but you also can’t wait for tomorrow, knowing that it’s another day with him, with Taehyung, your Taehyung. You never thought that love would be like this, never thought that you’d feel love like this, cared for and protected and loved, loved, loved.
“Not staying late?”
You pause in the process of shoving everything into your bag. Hoseok is leaning against your desk, a smile curling at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at you, almost suggestive.
“Nah, I’ve got a dinner to get to,” you say.
“You seem a lot happier lately,” Hoseok comments, and when you don’t fall for the bait, he wiggles his eyebrows. “The girls think that you’ve got a secret boyfriend that you’re too shy to tell anyone about.”
Taehyung still greets you every day when you get home. But now, every greeting is punctuated with a kiss—and sometimes a little more. When you stop to think about it, it’s startling, this thing that Taehyung’s taught you. That the simplest of things can turn into something more, love edged with lust, that it’s all part and parcel of loving someone, being with them, being comfortable with them. Just the other day you’d been reading on the sofa, and then Taehyung’s fingers had curved over your thigh and the tablet had fallen from your hands—
Hoseok clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out again,” he says.
“I am not,” you say, zoning back in. “I was thinking about if I needed to buy any food on the way home.”
“To feed that secret boyfriend of yours?” Hoseok says, and you laugh in his face.
“Definitely not to feed the rumour mill,” you say. Hoseok pouts but it’s good natured, and he waves you off with a smile, letting you leave the office without trapping you in an interrogation for the gossip you’re certain your coworkers are hungry for.
It’s your turn to cook for Yoongi and Seokjin, so you’ve got to get home to help Taehyung. Both men had been spectacularly unsurprised when they’d found out about the two of you. Yoongi had remained calm as Seokjin crowed in delight, proclaiming I knew it, I knew that’s why you were avoiding Taehyung.
“Feel lucky, Y/n,” Yoongi had said. “At least Taehyung has a sense of decorum and shame.”
“I think it’s a shame that my boyfriend is such a party pooper,” Jin had said. “I demand a dinner party! To celebrate your new relationship! Oh, I’m going to bake the biggest cake.”
“Oh my God,” you’d said, and Taehyung had just smiled.
The truth is that you’re grateful for your neighbours and their support, grateful for their friendship. Just because Taehyung looks human doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him, worry that someone might discover that he’s a deviant; Jin’s slipped under the radar for long enough, and you hope it’s the same for Tae, too. And yet you can’t help but think about it, think about the present, the future, how your lives are going to unfold as time goes by.
When the door swings open to your apartment, though, that’s the last thing on your mind. All that’s on your mind is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, your love appearing just as you’ve kicked your shoes off, all bright pink hair and dark eyes and welcoming hands.
“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.
“Hi,” he says, smiling so brightly, and then he kisses you.
You’re never going to get tired of kissing Taehyung; never going to get tired of how his mouth fits against yours, so perfect and sweet. But then he crowds you against the wall, swallowing down your gasp before kissing down your neck, running his teeth so gently across your skin.
“Missed you,” he murmurs, words dripping hot and slow. “Been thinking about you.”
“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Taehyung, we need to cook dinner.”
“We have time,” he says, and when he picks you up, you don’t protest. You go easily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, heat already gathering in your stomach as he walks the familiar path to your bedroom.
You have time: today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You have time with Taehyung, to learn with him, to love him. To be loved back. You don’t know what’s coming on the horizon, what the future holds—but then again, you never have.
There’s one thing you know now, though. No matter what happens, Taehyung will be at your side, and you’ll be at his. He wants you, and he loves you. You want him, and you love him.
“I love you,” you murmur, and Taehyung kisses the words off your lips, lets the promise of your love settle inside him, warm and soft and safe.
“I love you too,” he says, and then you’re too busy to say anything, after that.
taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove @jalexad @beingbeings @lorielulu7 (can’t tag: @jeon-joon-kook)
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Text
Better Man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taehyung x Oc
Rated 18 +
Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?
You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away.
You only ever know what they’re willing to show .
And yet,
all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.
But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.
And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.
“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long.
kill me now.
“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually, leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9.
“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him.
He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle.
‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled.
I blinked.
And then took a deep breath.
“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.”
Jungkook went completely still at that.
“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “
Jungkook swore.
“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?”
i shook my head.
“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?”
Jungkook looked just a little guilty.
“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened. “ He shrugged.
Things like infidelity and divorces .
“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...”
He made a noise of protest.
“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “
“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”
“ Jang Mi...this isn��t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained.
I frowned.
“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.”
“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort.
I shrugged.
“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.”
He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head.
“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.
“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly.
He froze.
“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.
He glared at me.
“Ex-wife.” He snarled.
“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to
He growled and punched the desk.
“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door.
I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs.
“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger.
I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked.
“What are you doing here?”
“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled.
I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand.
I felt warmth bloom in my chest.
“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased.
“Thirteen years since our first date. The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest.
“Man I feel old.” I muttered.
“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. .
“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said.
“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times more beautiful.”
I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that.
How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared.
We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.
“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.
I glanced at him.
“Oh?”
“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”
I blinked, my breath catching in my throat.
“Taehyung we’re-”
“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “
“Did you?” I asked.
“Did I what?”
“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?”
He stared at me.
“No.” He said finally.
I exhaled sharply.
“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.
“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “ I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”
You could never really tell what the other person is feeling.
I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now?
Hope ?
Hope that we would fix our marriage....
or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret.
I would never know.
I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once.
I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air.
“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered, seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges .
i shook my head.
“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”
“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”
I waved off the guilty words.
“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.”
A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface.
Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head.
“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.
“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb.
“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered.
I bit my lips.
“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “
He grinned at that.
“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled.
I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.
“Okay.”
“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”
“No!!” I said quickly, a lot louder than I’d intended.
Taehyung blinked.
“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .
Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.
“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
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Our Future ~ JJK
WORD COUNT: 3.9k
GENRE: Established-Relationship, CEO Jungkook, fluffy
PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader
The sound of Jungkook's alarm blaring out made you smirk to yourself, he always struggled waking up in the mornings and this was the sixth time in a row his alarm would be going off. You got up from the sofa placing the book you were reading down onto the coffee table and walked into the kitchen to go and pour him his morning coffee. Jungkook would need it if he was going to make it through the day and so would everyone else who would be around him, he was never a morning person. Every morning was the same with him though Jungkook would wakeup late no matter what before rushing around the house to get ready. Screaming out whenever he couldn't find anything that he needed for the day which was why you made sure you knew where everything was for him.
"Baby have you seen my-" He went to call out but you cut him off,
"On the bathroom door, steamed and ready for you to wear." You called up the stairs as you heard him fumbling around hunting for his tie that went with his suit, Monday mornings were always the worst cause he didn't know where all the fresh items were. He shouted out a thank you before finishing his morning routine and you shook your head going back to making him something to eat.
By the time he came downstairs fully clothed you had a to-go breakfast ready with his coffee in a travel mug for him, he kissed your forehead as an unspoken thank you.
"What would I do without you?" He complimented as he took everything from you and began walking out of the front door, you stared down at the coffee table in the living room and shook your head. Sitting there were his car keys which he also needed to get into the office,
"Keys!" You cried out as you rushed over to the front door, carrying his car keys in your hand, you leant against the door frame waiting for him to turn around. He turned to face you and you held them above your head shaking them a little as you puckered up your lips for him.
"You can have them if you give me a real kiss," You giggled to him as he walked back over to you shaking his head as he watched you closely,
"Honestly, what would I do without you?" He groaned out in satisfaction putting his coffee and food down onto the table that was just inside the porch. You smirked to yourself as you brought the keys down from above your head and waited for him to kiss you,
"Probably waste away to nothing, never look presentable and be late to everything." You teased as he smirked at you shaking his head but humming along in agreement as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
"It's the truth, you'd be nothing without me, probably just never show up to work-" He cut you off with a short and passionate kiss no matter how often it happened it still made you feel as though you were floating on a cloud. Smiling to himself he pulled away and grabbed his things from behind you, kissing your forehead as he turned to leave.
"I'll see you after work, I'll make sure dinner is ready." You leant against the doorframe watching him leave but he turned to look at you at the last second shaking his head,
"I'll be working late tonight. Jimin and Taehyung have some reports to finish and I said I'd help out...Being the kind and generous CEO I am." He winked at you as he got into the black car, placing his food onto the dash and drink into the cupholder.
"I'll keep you some in the oven then, you can warm it up when you get back home." You blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it and place it in his pocket for later, you rolled your eyes at him he was always childish like this with you.
"Bye loser!" You called out before shutting the front door and turning to look around the house for something to do, you had some time off from work so you had to figure out something to do. Jungkook had around the clock maids to work in his huge house so there was no way you could clean up anything. There were still boxes from your old apartment that you hadn't unpacked yet so you decided to go and unpack them. Jungkook and yourself had been together for the last four years but you'd only just recently moved in with him since your lease was finally up. He asked you before but you'd never done it because of the lease, you turned towards the staircase and a voice filled the air.
"Do you want anything to eat? I can make you something before I clean the kitchen up." One of the maids - Miss Sana - questioned as she watched you heading towards the spare office Jungkook had set up for you. It was a workspace away from work so you could still get everything you needed to do done,
"No, it's okay. Thank you though." You whispered to her as you began walking into the office, trying not to seem rude to her. She was one of the loveliest girl's you'd met but having someone run around after you, was still something you found odd. Jungkook was used to having people work for him but, all of it was still new to you having someone make your bed for you, clean everything for you. They'd offer to make you and Jungkook meals but you always refused, wanting him to have a homecooked meal from you.
"If you need anything please call me on the intercom," She called out to you just before you shut the door, leaning back on the door you looked around at all of the boxes at least all of them were labelled making it easier for you. It was mostly all of your work things that needed to be moved in. Things that would be going around the office like photographs, folders and other stationery items you had.
"Miss Y/l/n?" The same maid from the morning questioned when you pressed the intercom, she found it odd since you hardly used it unless Jungkook was at home and you were trying to find it.
"Hi, I just tried to get into Jungkook's office but it's locked. Do you by chance, have a key?" You questioned as you spoke into the machine, it felt weird to be talking to someone halfway across the house you hated doing it when Jungkook was here but in a house this big it was needed. Especially when he would leave his phone in a different room.
"I don't, I can call Mr Jeon if you like?" Her voice came out soothing,
"No it's okay, I'll call him." You stopped the intercom before phoning Jungkook's main office. He should have been on his lunch by now so it was no big deal for you to call him and for him to answer. Not that it would be a big deal anyway, he owned the business and could do what he wanted with it.
"Baby? Is something wrong?" He questioned, answering the call after just four rings,
"I was just wondering where the keys for your office are? I have a photograph I want to put on your desk." You laughed softly looking at the frame it was from your first date together. A collage of photographs all put together inside of the frame, Jungkook hushed someone on the other end of the phone and you frowned.
"It's locked baby, I have the only key. I'm sorry." There was a giggle from the other end of the call that wasn't from him or the boys, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried not to overthink things. It was probably just nothing.
"Oh...Okay, I'll leave it out and you can put it in when you get home? How are the reports coming along?" You questioned him as you waited for some kind of response but it sounded as though he was stalling as he thought of something to say to you.
"They're good, t-the boys are just inside the office with me," You knew for a fact he was lying he stuttered which was one of the dead giveaways that Jungkook was lying to you, that and you heard a female giggle so you knew it wasn't the boys.
"That's great. I erm, I'm going to leave you to it." You hung up quickly not wanting to overthink it anymore and Jungkook frowned looking at the phone on his desk. Jungkook knew you'd been cheated on the past and promised he would never do that to you, you were probably just overthinking everything. His assistant was probably inside the room with the rest of them. At least that was what you were trying to tell yourself.
That night you didn't see Jungkook come home you headed to bed around 10 pm after not getting any responses from his mobile or office phone, you figured he was busy with the boys. You left a small note on the kitchen door telling him how to warm his food up and headed up to bed but this morning there was no sign of him. Normally you would wake up being cuddled by him but today there was nothing, the sheets were freezing as though he hadn't been home all night and his PJ's were in the same spot as the day before.
"Guk?" You called out when you heard the floorboards outside the bedroom door creak you were feeling hopeful that he'd just gotten up on time,
"N-No Ma'am, it's me." You sighed before dismissing the maid and laid back down against the sheets and stared up at the ceiling wondering if he'd even been home. Usually, you'd wake up before him or when his first alarm sounded but this morning there was nothing, no sign he'd even been home yet.
Heading into the kitchen the same note was on the door of the kitchen and his food was still in the oven yet another sign he hadn't been home all night.
"Miss Sana?" You called out to the maid who had just walked by the kitchen door, she turned to look at you with a small smile on her face.
"Did Jungkook come home last night? I-I cooked for him but he hasn't eaten it..." The maid looked over at the oven and then at you before shaking her head, you could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't sure about telling you about something.
"He was working late, called to tell me to not let you worry. He stayed at the office." Your mouth formed an 'O' shape at the thought of him being locked up in his office all night and day today. It couldn't have been good for him to spend the night on that sofa, you'd spent some time there and it wasn't exactly the comfiest of places.
"I'll take him some lunch later, and some fresh clothes. I hate the thought of him being all stuffy in his work outfit," You tried to seem hopeful and not worried that something was going on behind your back but it was hard when every sign pointed at that there was.
As you strolled onto the top floor of the office building you were stooped by four of Jungkook's employees, all of them asking what you were doing there and how you were doing. Jimin even rushed up to you to see what you had in the small basket in your hands,
"Lunch for Jungkook...He was here all night so I figured he could use some homemade food instead of that junk you get him," You teased poking Jimin's chest as you continued walking in the direction of the main glass office. Jungkook was sitting at his desk with a huge smile on his face as someone sat across from him made him laugh at something.
"Who's he with?" You questioned the assistant who was watching you nervously,
"It's-" The door to his office opened and he walked out,
"I'll call you later- Babe?" He stopped staring at the beautiful woman beside him and looked at you, the smile on his lips fading instantly as soon as he saw you standing there.
"Hi. I-I bought you some lunch?" You gestured to the basket in your hand and he sent you a weak smile,
"Go sit in my office, I was just walking Miss Jackson out." You nodded as you switched places with him and the woman, smiling at her but she avoided your gaze before walking off down the hallways. Jimin stared at you through the glass office and you bit down on your lip, it felt as though everyone knew something except for you so you placed the basket down on the desk and waited for Jungkook to come back to you.
"Sorry baby, hi," Jungkook whispered as he walked into the office again rushing over to you and bringing you into a hug but you placed your hands on his chest.
"I brought you some food and clothes, S-Sanna said you didn't come home," The original plan was to eat with him but after seeing people stare at you through the glass while you waited for him to come back you didn't want to sit there much longer.
"You're not eating with me?" He frowned looking in the basket at everything inside, he could tell it wasn't just meant for him.
"You and the boys should eat it while you work on the reports, are you coming home tonight?" He nodded at your question, he knew something was wrong with you but he wasn't going to press you for information here. He could wait until he got home later to see what it was that was really bothering you,
"I'll see you later," You turned your back on him to leave but Jungkook took your wrist in his grasp and pulled you back to him. You were standing between his legs while he rested on the desk looking into your eyes, he reached up to cup your face in his hands.
"I'll see you when I'm home. I'm not working late tonight," You snuggled into his touch trying to ignore the pit inside of your stomach that something was wrong, it was clear there wasn't when Jungkook was with you.
"You'll be home at the normal time?" You quizzed looking over your shoulder to see Jimin was still watching you both,
"Yeah, the reports are finished. I'll see you later," He pulled your face to look at him and kissed your lips softly, you instantly relaxed against him and kissed him back. Pushing your hands into his hair as you relaxed into the kiss.
"See you tonight," You whispered to him before leaving him in the office and heading home for the night.
"Oh! Here," You called out as you rushed over to Miss Jackson as she scrambled to pick up something that fell from her bag,
"Thank you." She whispered as you reached under her car to grab the small navy blue box,
"No problem," As you looked up at her she seemed to panic, snatching the box out of your grasp and shoving it into her handbag.
"I have to go. Bye!" She yelled out, slamming her car door as she rushed to get away from you, you frowned watching her speed out of the parking lot but tried not to put too much thought into it as you headed home for the day.
The next morning you straddled Jungkook's lap as you waited for him to wake up, he was on his first alarm so you figured it would be nice to wake up in his arms this time.
"Morning baby," You cooed in his ear, biting down on it softly as you waited for him to wake up.
"Morning," He grumbled as he heard his second alarm beginning to ring, you reached out to shut it off for him but he slammed his hand down quickly on the phone and turned it over so the screen couldn't be seen.
"Baby relax, I was just going to turn the alarm off." You giggled but he opened the drawer and slid his phone into it, wrapping his arms around you as he turned you over to lay on the bed.
"Fifteen more minutes," He moaned out but you wriggled under his grasp, tickling his sides as a form of trying to get him to wake up.
"You'll be late if we have fifteen more minutes, come and shower." You whispered to him in a seducing tone but he didn't move,
"Kookie," You whined out to him about to ask him to join you again when his phone began to ring this time.
"Who's that? It's too early for someone to be calling you." You mumbled to him, reaching out but he shook his head.
"Leave it. It's nothing. Go have some breakfast." He slid out from the bed, grabbing his phone before he grumpily made his way into the bathroom without you. Your invitation to shower together going completely unnoticed by him, you sighed to yourself before getting up to change into something for the day.
Jungkook came down the stairs half an hour later rushing around, as usual, you gave him his drink and breakfast and he left without a kiss or goodbye.
"Mr Kim Namjoon is driving him around today, he isn't in the office," Sana said as she noticed the look of confusion written across your face but it only made you question it more, why had he told Sana where he was going and not you?
"I'm going out for a drive," You mumbled as you watched the car Jungkook was being driven around in pull out of the drive and head in the opposite direction of his office building.
"Miss Y/n? You're going to need something to eat!" Sana stopped talking when the front door slammed and she saw your car backing out of the garage. There was nothing she could do to stop you so she wasn't going to.
You'd followed behind Jungkook's car all morning keeping your distance, of course, you didn't want him to see you in case he thought you were going insane but he was in town. He hadn't gone into work at all, Jungkook and Namjoon were walking through the streets of Seoul while he hunted for something. Stopping at a book store, then a flower store and then a chocolate shop.
"What is he doing?" You whispered to yourself as you watched Jungkook sit down inside the chocolate shop, Namjoon glanced out of the window so you quickly hid behind a man carrying a basket.
"Sir, your girlfriend seems to be following us," Jungkook smirked to himself as he picked out the perfect chocolates followed by a box,
"I know, just keep acting as though we don't see her." He chuckled to Namjoon who just shook his head. Jungkook knew you'd been following him from the moment he got into the city, he'd seen you trying to sneak around behind them but you weren't all that good at being a spy.
"I have something planned, just let me lose her in my own time." Jungkook laughed to Namjoon who nodded along.
An hour passed after Jungkook left the chocolate shop and you lost him in one of the largest crowds you'd ever seen, they were all grouping around some music shop and you couldn't see him anymore.
"Fuck," You whispered as you sat down on a bench in front of the Han River, you knew it was probably insane for you to be following your boyfriend around but you wanted to know what he was doing behind your back.
"Y'know, you wouldn't be a good spy," You jumped up when you heard Jungkook's voice come from seemingly nowhere, you turned around to see him standing behind the bench holding everything he'd bought that day.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I came out for a jog." You lied as you looked away from him not wanting to feel ashamed of following him around, he sighed as he walked around the side of the bench to join you.
"You came out for a jog in this?" He touched the jumper you were wearing, it was one of the most expensive items of clothing you owned and you groaned at him feeling disgusted in yourself,
"I-I was worried you were out with someone else-"
"Like Miss Jackson?" You groaned as he let out a small chuckle at the look on your face as you nodded,
"Don't laugh, it's not funny...I-I look creepy following you around." He shook his head at you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he smiled,
"I thought it was cute, but you were kind of right. I did go to see Miss Jackson today," He handed you the box of chocolates and then the flowers.
"I didn't want to do this here but the plan I had wasn't going to work either," He was started to stumble and stutter over his words as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the box you'd gotten for Miss Jackson yesterday.
"Jungkook..." You whispered slowly as you stared down at the box, he was throwing it between each hand as he smiled at you.
"W-We can do this again, somewhere I can ask you properly but hiding this from you has been killing me this week." He told you as he bit down on his lip,
"I wasn't working late on Monday, I was working on this-" He held the box up in front of your face and you frowned wondering what it was.
"Remember, I'll ask this again properly later but Y/n Y/l/n will you do me the honour of marrying me?" The box flipped open to reveal the ring that Jungokook had been working so hard on all week long. It was a silver band with your birthstone as the diamond, he'd heard you speaking about your dream engagement ring before and wanted to make sure he got it all right.
"K-Kookie," You teared up as you stared up at him, he was tearing up as he looked at you,
"I love you. I want you to be mine for the rest of our lives," He whispered to you,
"Yes! Thousand times yes," You cried out as you wrapped your arms around his body and hugged him tightly, snuggling your head into his neck and sobbing as you agreed to marry him. He chuckled as he held onto you tightly,
"I'll do it again in a real setting-" He stopped talking when you shook your head and kissed his lips,
"You don't have to, this...This is perfect," You whispered to him as you looked into his eyes, he smirked slipping the ring out of the box before he placed it onto your finger.
"This is excellent," You repeated as you looked at the ring which was sitting on your finger perfectly,
"I love you," He whispered as he leant forward to kiss you, neither of you noticing the fact that a small group of people were clapping and congratulating you both on your future together.
Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @sw33tnight @innersooya @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block
#bts x reader#bts#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts imagine#bts imagines#seokjin#kim seokjin#jin#min yoongi#yoongi#suga#jhope#jung hoseok#hoseok#namjoon#kim namjoon#park jimin#jimin#kim taehyung#taehyung#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine
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The Winter Ball
🥀A/N🥀 I actually wanted to post this for Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve, but I procrastinated so much... Anyway, I hope you like this. I’ll probably write a part two that will contain some smut simply to be forgiven for this huge delay.
🥀Warnings🥀 None, at least I don’t think so. Also, Caliban’s major appearance is towards the middle of this.
🥀 Word count🥀 1495 words. [Requests are open]
Also, if any of you happen to know any good Tate Langdon imagines form AHS that aren’t written in the 1st person, I would really love for you to tell me.
You sat on the perfectly arranged red velvet sheets that laid on top of your large and luxurious bed, facing the French window that gave you the second-best view in the castle, the best view being the one Sabrina had in her room, of course. With her being the new Queen of Hell and all, she had the most beautiful and perfect things out of the two of you.
You took one last longing glance at the blood red sunset with a few hints of gold and yellow that reminded you so much of your beloved boyfriend, Caliban; oh, how you wished you didn’t have to attend that ball. After years of playing Lucifer’s perfect and powerful daughter that wouldn’t let anything get to her, you were on the brink of exhaustion. Because of that, you were somewhat grateful for Sabrina, for coming into Hell’s limelight that had only room for one, pushing you out of the way, without her even noticing it. You remembered how, a few days ago, she all but begged you to come to the Winter Ball, saying that if you didn’t want to attend the ball next year, you wouldn’t have to. She told you that she thought it was only appropriate since the both of you were the future of Hell, since you were half-sisters and you were both the daughters of Lucifer, not only her. In reality, you knew she wanted you there, not because she loved having you as a sister, but because she just wanted to see a familiar face, even if it was yours and not one of her closest friends, like Theo’s. Thought the only upside for you was that you would be able to spend hours dancing and doin some other stuff with Caliban without being told that you should be doing more productive things such as reading over some documents or signing your name on important contracts for Hell’s sake.
You sighed as you stood up and walked into your gigantic closet, in one of the far corners of your room. Judging by the footsteps approaching your room, it wouldn’t be long before your personal maids barged into your sanctuary and intruded on your thoughts. You would think that after growing up surrounded by staff people, you would be used to people dressing you up and helping you get ready for important events, but actually, you utterly despised all that attention, which sure wasn’t a desirable trait for a princess to possess.
As it turned out, you were right. A group of around five maids, all of them wearing assorted black and white uniforms that were quite fashionable, were walking towards you. You felt your body go limp, feeling the indifferent feeling you always got before an important ball, or simply an important event, other than political meetings your father used to bring you to, which you completely loved because you enjoyed helping your father’s people.
You watched yourself in the mirror as the maids helped you change into your dress, sometimes doing things yourself when they were having trouble, then being reprimanded for doing so. After an hour or so, your finally ready. When they left, you sneaked one last look in the majestic oval gold and ruby mirror. You wore a beautiful black tuile dress with a bit of golden floral embroidery, under which was a layer of white fabric that match the shiny belt you wore. Your white gloved hands caressed your face, as you appreciated how little makeup the head mais out on your face, yet, still managing to make you look exquisitely unreal; you only wore scarlet red lipgloss and some eyeliner. Your (h/c) hair was arranged in a fancy bun, some hair clips with white pearls on them stood out proudly here and there.
Sabrina bumped right into you as you were leaving your bedroom and beginning to walk towards the ballroom. You were surprised by how pretty your sister looked, of course she always looked pretty but the dress she wore and the crown that rested upon her platinum hair both really suited her. At that moment, you began to feel rather self conscious and nauseous; you were well aware that your boyfriend, Caliban was going to attend the Winter Ball and you were frightened by the fact that he might think that Sabrina looked better than you.
“Wow, (Y/N)! You look so beautiful and elegant,” Sabrina said with an honest smile.
“Thank you, Sabrina. Yes, well, Mother always told me elegance is the only beauty that never fades,” You felt shy all of a sudden, that always happened when someone complimented you. ““I would hug you, but I don’t want to ruin your gown. Are you actually comfortable in it? You look like you can barely move.”
“Well, that’s because I can barely move. Anyway, all of the guests have finally arrived,” she shot you a mischievous look. “Even Caliban is already here. I swear, his jaw is gonna definitely drop when he catches a glimpse of you!”
It felt weird to admit to yourself that you were actually beginning to see Sabrina as your actual sister instead of simply seeing her as an acquaintance. But you pushed all of those thoughts away as soon as you recognized Caliban among the sea of guests due to his golden hair.
You had to repeat to yourself, as if it was a mantra , that even if Sabrina was more important than you, you still had one of the highest statuses in Hell, meaning that you still had to act graceful, and that no matter how much you wanted to run down the stairs and jump into Caliban’s arms like you normally do, you couldn’t do so. Instead, you walked at a moderate pace down the stairs, your right gloved hand sliding down the golden handrail, trying to lower your eyes to look at the ground to make sure that you don’t fall as seldom as possible,as if you knew perfectly what you were doing. In theory, you did, but seeing Caliban’s incredibly smouldering figure in his suit flustered you and took some of your concentration away. As you took a few more steps, your (e/c) eyes met Caliban’s. He took one look at you and his mouth that was previously pressed into a tight smile opened slightly, ne cocked his head to the side and he couldn’t tear away from you; you looked absolutely ethereal, even more magnificent than you usually looked. It must be said that, at that moment, you had proven to yourself that you had a lot more of self composure than you thought, as you stopped yourself from smiling like a fool because of your boyfriend’s reaction.
Caliban, slightly pushing some demons away, made his way to you, a gorgeous smile that made your knees go weak plastered upon his face. You quickened your pace, and the two of you met each other like a pair of shooting stars. You tightly wrapped your arms around his neck before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips that only lasted for a few moments so that nobody would really notice.
“Have I ever told you how luckyI am to have a girlfriend as gorgeous as you?” Caliban asked as he softly caressed your cheek, warming your heart in the loveliest way of all. “You look absolutely splendid tonight, (Y/N).”
“I could say the same about you, Cali,” you answered as you and the blond man began to dance, a few demons following suit. “You know, I only decided to attend this ball because I knew you would come.”
“Oh, really, darling,” he said in a cocky tone as he rose an eyebrow. “I feel so special all of a sudden, but I could’ve sworn that just a few days ago you said that you were only doing this because your sister, Sabrina begged you to do so.”
You were surprised that, this time, when Caliban called Sabrina your sister you didn’t cringe at all, like you used to.
Your boyfriend lowered a bit his hand that was on your waist as he spun you closer to the doors that permitted you to exit the ballroom. He rose his eyes only for a moment, but based on the hurt that was displayed on his face, you assumed Sabrina had made her grand entrance. It wasn’t that Caliban didn’t like her, it was just that he wished that he was the King of Hell, not her.
You pressed a hand to his jawline and whispered in a soft voice, “You don’t want to be here either, do you?”
He lowered his eyes to meet yours, “In all honesty, I just wish that the only two persons in this world were you and me.”
“Well, that can be arranged.”
Simply by looking at how his beautiful eyes glimmered and at the cocky grin he offered you, you knew that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.
#caliban x reader#caliban imagine#caos#caos netflix#chilling adventures of sabrina#winter 2020#sabrina spellman#hell
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Here’s some belated Geraskier fic that I finally get to post, as last week’s flash fic challenge has wrapped up! This was originally published anonymously; kudos to those of you who guessed that I was the author. Head to the collection to see the picture prompt that inspired this, as well as view the other works. I've been having a great time participating in fandom events like this; I promise there's more on the way!!! (Read on AO3)
Up To Date
prompt: "You were so hot that when you asked if I was the blind date you were looking for, I lied and said yes. But then your actual date comes up to introduce themselves and I'm so embarrassed."
G, 2.3K words, modern AU, Geralt/Jaskier
It shouldn’t be this difficult to find inspiration. He never used to struggle like this in high school, finding his muse in everyone and everything. Even his mundane trip on the city bus to and from school would give Jaskier hundreds of ideas, for poems too personal to publish or lyrics too deep for his band to use. Back then he had thought he lacked discipline and experience, so the clear choice had been to take his interest in poetry one step further and go to university.
The problem, as he’s now discovering halfway through his second year, is that he maybe hates university. He loves it, of course; he loves the praise from his professors and peers, he loves learning about the history of literature and art. He even loves the academic rivalries that wax and wane every term, and the competitions that ignite a mean streak in him he didn’t know he had.
But his assignments are of worse quality than anything he’s ever written before, and try as he might, they aren’t getting any better. Putting words on the page just to meet a count is impossible for a poet, not when the space and thoughts and images are all supposed to be cohesive. Poems used to flow from him so freely he hadn’t been able to keep track and now his well of motivation has just about run dry.
That’s what led him here, for the third time this week. His creative dysfunction has forced him into the day-to-day habits of an elderly man who spends his days reading in public gardens. It hasn’t helped so far, but maybe this third time will be the charm. Jaskier finds his favorite place: right by the koi pond, next to a strange art installation with ivy crawling along it. He sits at the base of the giant question mark, dropping his backpack onto the bench beside him.
“This better fucking work,” mutters Jaskier to himself and the koi, opening today’s book to a random poem. He refuses to let his mind wander at first, gluing his eyes to the page and reading with intense intent. The first poem he sees is about love.
Groaning, Jaskier flips the page. The next poem is also about love.
The third poem is about war, and Jaskier thinks that might be alright, until he realizes what this long-dead poet is trying to tell him, which is that war is also about love. Because it is, of course, but also of course it is. Jaskier scowls deeply and flips through the book to a random page, hoping to find something to spark inspiration that won’t just make him feel hopeless and single and hopelessly single.
Before Jaskier can get through the title, someone speaks to him, startling him so badly he jumps. “Are you Yennefer’s friend?”
Jaskier scrambles to catch the book by its cover and nearly drops it. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Sorry?”
The stranger audibly sighs, as if Jaskier has inconvenienced him terribly. With all the force of someone announcing their presence at their own death row, he grits out, “I’m here for a blind date she set up. With you.” Jaskier looks up at the man and sees him wearing a blank expression, pointing at the question mark in front of the bench. “By the thing.”
“Oh,” Jaskier says, still looking at the man. It takes a second for the words to sink in because the stranger is perhaps the most handsome person Jaskier has ever seen. He could write a thousand poems and still fail to capture his beauty. He has golden eyes, for one, and a sharply chiseled face. Even grimacing like this, his jaw is set in the loveliest way, and his stern brow is framed by platinum white hair, half-tied up. He’s wearing a fairly gloomy outfit for a blind date, but maybe he told whoever Yennefer is that he would be dressed in black. Regardless, he’s making it work.
The gorgeous stranger is still waiting for an answer, scowl worsening as Jaskier tries to make his decision about how the fuck to handle this. Really, there’s no decision at all— he just impulsively takes the leap. All his best ideas come when he’s stumbling forward blind anyway. “Yes,” he finally says, jumping to his feet. “Yes, um, I’m sorry, you caught me off-guard. I’m Jaskier.”
“Geralt.” They’re of a similar height, but Geralt is so much wider. Jaskier wants to climb him like ivy on a question mark. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”
“It’s fine! I got here a while ago. You know, can’t be too early!” Jaskier has never been early for anything in his life. He sits down again and shoves his books into his bag as quickly as he can. Geralt shifts his weight back and forth between his feet before awkwardly sitting on the bench next to Jaskier, looking out at the garden. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” he admits, which is true. His usual lies and schemes are much less chaotic.
Geralt doesn’t reply to that, leaving Jaskier to privately wonder about his dating life. He stares at the plants, giving the impression that he might be hideously nervous. Jaskier has no idea why someone like Geralt would be nervous about anything but it’s an awkward situation, to say the least. Right as Jaskier’s about to suggest they get out of here before Geralt’s real date shows up, the man asks, “What were you reading?”
“I was studying, sort of,” Jaskier says. “I’m a student.” Then abruptly he wonders how much Geralt knows about who he’s supposed to be, and he swallows, pulse racing.
Glancing over, Geralt’s yellow eyes meet his. There’s no obvious doubt there, just a curiosity. “What’s your major?”
“Poetry,” Jaskier grins as their conversation starts to pick up something resembling a rhythm. “What about you, are you in school?”
“No,” says Geralt, cutting his dreams of a normal date conversation short. “Are you any good? At writing poetry?”
What a weirdo. Jaskier’s heart thrums. “I’d like to think so!” This, at least, is something he knows how to talk about. Except, of course, it isn’t really the truth. “Well… recently, I’ve been in a bit of a creative rut. Just waiting for the right burst of inspiration to come along.” Perhaps this blind date that he’s stolen will suffice, but he doesn’t say that. “This place is great for that, actually. I mean, it hasn’t worked yet, but I’m sure any day those fish will sing for me.”
Geralt blinks. Jaskier feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He tries a different tactic, crossing his ankles and asking politely, “Are you a reader? What kind of things do you enjoy?”
“Nonfiction,” Geralt answers, slightly stilted. His gaze drifts over to the plants once more. “Not biographies, more like… encyclopedias and field journals. I like field journals.”
“Alright,” Jaskier says, shrinking into himself. This is going terribly. “I’ll have to go bribe some scientists for their field journals, then.” The corner of Geralt’s lip twitches, and Jaskier’s stomach flips. Gorgeous and weird and maybe, although he’s trying his best to hide it behind seven layers of nerves, maybe a little amused by Jaskier. Jaskier is going to fuck him right here in the garden. “Do you take journals of your own for work?”
A rather roundabout way of asking ‘what the fuck is it that you do’ but somehow, it lands. “I’m a… researcher,” Geralt mumbles. How very vague. “But I don’t publish my findings very often.”
Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Do you work… for a company?”
“No.”
“Right. So you’re just keeping all your findings to yourself for no good reason at all.”
“No.”
“Then it sounds like you’re a pretty terrible researcher, actually.”
Geralt’s eyes flash as he turns to glare at Jaskier. “What?”
“Well, if you don’t share what you’ve found with anyone—”
“My… colleagues—”
“Aha! So you have colleagues!” Jaskier pokes Geralt’s side. “You aren’t just holed up in some depressing storage unit with months and months of research just for you.”
Once more, Geralt half-smirks. Not even half— more like a one-fifth smirk. “Years,” he admits.
“Years…” Jaskier tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re perhaps a significant number of years older than me?”
“I had the same thought when I saw you sitting here,” Geralt mumbles.
Jaskier snorts. “Seems like something Yennefer should have warned us about, perhaps. I would ask you directly how old you are, but I’m fairly certain that the only response I will get is a very gruff no.”
“No,” says Geralt, nearly smiling.
Making a show of pouting, Jaskier folds his arms over his chest. “Is that your favorite word?”
“No.” Geralt breaks into laughter as he repeats himself, and his whole face lights up with it. Jaskier laughs too, delighted by how joyous Geralt looks. He’s even more beautiful when he’s happy like this, and Jaskier wants very badly for this not to be their last date. “If I tell you my favorite word, you’re bound to judge me for it, as a poet.”
“As a poet, I swear not to mock you,” Jaskier raises his hand to cover his heart, barely restraining himself from grinning.
But before Geralt can share whatever it is, someone else approaches their bench. A second stranger— a woman about his height with short brown hair, wearing a pretty blouse. Jaskier notices her much more quickly than he’d noticed Geralt, and he makes the connection instantly. This can’t possibly end well.
“Oh, Yen wasn’t kidding,” says the stranger, eyeing Geralt. “You are very distinctive!”
Geralt stares back at her, slack-jawed for a moment. “What?”
“I’m Renfri,” Geralt’s date introduces herself. Jaskier wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole, especially when she glances over at him. Her gaze slides back to Geralt, as does Jaskier’s, and yeah, he is very fucking distinctive with that white hair and those yellow eyes. Damn. “My friend Yennefer set us up for a blind date…?”
As Jaskier contemplates throwing himself into the koi pond, Geralt twists to stare at him. Jaskier can only imagine how mortified he must look right now; his face burns as both Renfri and Geralt look his way. Perhaps Renfri will figure it out before Geralt says anything; she looks like a smart woman.
But Geralt just gets up, dusting himself off and shaking his head. “No,” he tells Renfri, which would almost be funny if it weren’t the weirdest thing Jaskier has ever seen anyone do. Then Geralt leaves, turning to walk away from both of them, leaving Jaskier and Renfri alone together in the garden. Renfri frowns, watching him go with obvious increasing confusion. Jaskier also jumps to his feet, equally confused but determined not to lose sight of Geralt.
He chases the man— and it does feel like a chase, Geralt must be fucking speed-walking away— and finally tracks him down well outside the garden. Geralt is thundering down a set of stairs leading to a parking lot and he doesn’t stop at the sound of Jaskier careening towards him. Only when Jaskier desperately calls his name does he finally stop, slowing until he reaches the bottom landing and then standing there, still.
“I’m sorry,” Jaskier calls down the stairs, breathless. He begins to descend them but Geralt doesn’t turn around. “Fuck, you’re fast! Shit. I’m sorry, Geralt.”
Without looking his way, Geralt complains, so quietly that Jaskier nearly misses it, “Yennefer is going to kill me.”
“I would have fucked off,” Jaskier says quickly, hurrying down the rest of the steps until he gets to the bottom. Geralt still doesn’t look at him so Jaskier slides none-too-gracefully into his space, demanding his attention. He’s hardly red in the face or anything, but he looks embarrassed. Jaskier crumbles. “I’m sorry. I— seriously, I don’t care, I would have fucked off. I should’ve left, I should’ve— You should go back there, she’s beautiful!”
Geralt’s nostrils flare but he doesn’t look away. “Why did you lie,” he demands, flat.
“Well,” Jaskier deflates. “Um. You’re beautiful.”
“Hmm.”
“I really am sorry,” he offers.
Geralt, still watching him closely, says, “You don’t sound sorry.”
“What do you want me to do?” Jaskier throws his hands in the air, breaking away from Geralt’s stare— in the greenhouse, surrounded by bright lights and open, manmade nature, it had been easy to sit under the weight of Geralt’s eyes on him. Down here, at the end of a staircase and the entrance to a dark garage, chest still heaving, it feels too intimate. He puts some distance between them, sighing. “You want me to go back there and explain the whole situation to poor Renfri?”
When Jaskier finally turns around again, Geralt’s gaze hasn’t left him. “I want you to come have dinner with me instead,” he says, slowly but purposefully.
“Oh,” breathes Jaskier. “That’s— well, if you want that.”
“I already made a reservation for two. My name’s on the list.” Geralt is fidgeting with the end of his sleeve at first but when he approaches Jaskier he drops it, striding forward without hesitating. “Table for Geralt and one young brunet friend of Yennefer’s.”
Jaskier chokes on his own surprised laugh. “I don’t actually know Yennefer,” he needlessly explains.
“She’s going to hate you,” says Geralt, half-smirking, and then he adds, “Well, she’ll hate both of us now.”
They get to the restaurant twenty minutes late, Geralt’s hair mussed up and lips a bitten red and Jaskier wearing his backpack and a shit-eating grin. The host sees them and immediately tells them their table has been cancelled, and they end up getting terrible two-dollar slices from a hole-in-the-wall pizza place. They eat on the way back to Geralt’s car and then he drives Jaskier back to campus, kissing him soundly in the door to his apartment until Priscilla comes home and yells at Jaskier to get a room. As they squabble Geralt apologizes, polite and nervous, and kisses Jaskier’s cheek and tells him it was nice to meet him.
Jaskier goes inside and spends the next thirteen hours writing the best poetry he will ever write.
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No More } Choi San [ateez]
genre: angst
warning(s): slight obsession, mention of a break up, a bit suggestive
word count: 1.7k
notes: I don't have much time to write nowadays but I will upload a part 2 soon, I promise!!!^^
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He had tried everything. He tried confessing his feelings to you, he tried confessing his love. He tried being more masculine and demanding, he even tried submitting completely to you. But still, you were a desired girl here in this city, of course it wasn't that easy. Maybe it all had gone wrong because he mainly just imagined making a move on you.
The biggest step he had ever took in real life was when he found the courage to speak to you and became friends with you finally. But that was almost a year ago and he still couldn't figure out how to get you to like him too.
San would do absolutely any and everything to be your boyfriend. He wants you since he first saw your enlightening smile. It was a smile he would never get tired of admiring.
San wants to be yours, no matter how long it would take for him to confess. He would get you to love him back, wouldn't he?
And at the same time he was scared to death to scare you away. He was someone special and different from everyone around you. San was light-hearted, handsome, competitive and one day he would be shy, and the other day he would be confident. Just sad, that whenever he was with you he became really insecure sometimes.
He was in love with you and didn't know how to show you properly. It was like a curse for him, he just wanted you to use him to your happiness! Was that too much to ask?
However, he still had hope, it wouldn't die until you would break things off with him. But you weren't planning to. You found him cute and pretty. You maybe even had a little crush on him. Through all the time you two spend together you learnt what kind of a person he is, and you figured he was one of the kindest, smartest and loveliest people you ever met in your live.
So why would you not like him?
The thing was, you just weren't as obsessed with him as he was with you. Although he tried to be not clingy, he loved your affection and touch, so he always hugged you longer than needed or stood closer to you than everyone else.
Until one day, you got closer than you would have thought. Out of sharing sweet kisses got a close relationship and the dream of San was fulfilled. The other boys always were jealous how he was able to kiss you on the campus or hold your waist and hand whenever he desired. But he was smart and strong, able to fight them if he needed to.
Of course he knew how lucky he was to date someone as special as you and his obsession only grew. You weren't aware of what scenarios played in his mind all the time, what he wanted you to do to him.
He would like to be used.. by you. But he kept it to himself for a long time. But even if he had this strong feelings, he still was a little, delicate boy to you. Caused by his overprotectiveness and love to have you as close as possible, he got very clingy.
You almost always understood and accepted his affection but sometimes you needed space because you had other obligations than to cuddle your boyfriend and it got too much. It didn't scare you away, it just made you aware of the fact that he may feels more for you than you for him. Of course you loved him with you whole heart, though it just been about six months in this relationship and you wouldn't say that he was your reason to live yet. You would hate to live without him but you could do it anyways.
You always asked yourself if maybe you just had problems catching feelings. Because for a long time you just couldn't handle any boy near you. You weren't exactly cold-hearted but it felt like your heart had been frozen until you met San, it needed time to warm up now. You just couldn't give him all of you only in a few months.
When he was too much to handle and you got angry at him or began being the dominant one, he easily started sobbing. All he wanted was you, not anyone else could still his needs like you did, he never wanted to leave you or the other way around. So he was emotional when he was scared of you letting him alone.
Gladly you never did, you always where there to comfort him, even if you where the reason for him being so upset.
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It bothered him how you stopped replying to his texts and answering his calls. It bothered him so much, it needed everything of him to not break down right then and there. It's been a day without getting any sign of you and he started to think you forgot about him or just simply didn't want him anymore. He knew you were fine -or at least alive- because he could see that you had read his messages and experienced how you declined his calls.
(10 new massages)
|San|: [why aren't you answering?] >09:23pm< seen
|San|: [please, just tell me you’re fine and not mad at me] >09:24pm< seen
He sighed, laying his face inside his hands, acting out the desperation he felt, trying to be strong.
|you|: [no, I'm fine. I just don't have time for you right now San, sorry] >09:26<
You weren't in the mood to reply more right now. You needed time for yourself. And you weren't mad at him, you only needed a break of him at this moment. The both of you saw each other every single day, even if you were busy, he insisted on visiting you. Not that you didn't enjoy his company, the thing was, that you came to the conclusion that he may was a bit obsessed with you.
When you were busy, you were busy, and he has to accept that at one point but he didn't. So you chose to ignore him for awhile to get your stuff done without any intervention.
When he saw your text, he felt relieved but something was bothering him again. You had no time for him? It's either supposed mean what it says, or it means that you were mad and would hate to see his face right now.
|San|: [okay, just please call me when you are ready, alright?] >09:26< seen
|San|: [I miss u :(] >09:27< seen
|you|: [I will. Sleep well] >09:28<
The coldness that came with your words made his heart scrunch in pain. He knew that you didn't miss him right now, you were tired of seeing him every day. And he tried to understand but still felt the need to visit you and make whatever he did wrong up to you. But he resisted this urge and stayed where he was, thinking it would be the best to leave you alone for a bit.
•••
A bit. Yeah, a bit was good. He'd thought "a bit" would have lasted shorter. Though it expanded to two whole days. And you barely had ever answered his texts.
The more time flew by, the more he got desperate. He cried himself to sleep the last two nights. It was affecting him so much, more than he would have thought. He knew you were his everything, but that he wouldn't be able to stand three days without your presence surprised him.
And at this point he would give everything to get you back in his arms. So he thought how he could make you feel better about him again. San had thought about many ways to do that but almost all his plans seemed to not be pretty thought through. Not matter how many times he tried getting new ideas, -he even googled how to get his girlfriend back-, his mind always came back to one solution. Although he had a bad feeling about it. He had no other choice. What else could give him back his joy of life? He had to seduce you.
Wasn't good sex what all girls wanted at this age? He asked himself first, but he shook his head in disgust. You weren't a girl like every other. And especially not about the sexual act. You were humble and patient, he knew that. That's why you both never spoke up this topic. Of course you turned him on and stuff but as long as you were in his arms, open to have any other physical contact, he didn't need to sleep with you yet.
It wasn't exactly why you were bored, but maybe you thought it could be fun to try something new. It didn't had to be sex, but what else was left to try? Exactly. Not too much.
San made himself ready to meet up with you before sending you a message to ask if you were home. Fortunately you were, and sighed when you saw your phone blink from the twentieth text he had send you.
God, was this childish. You groaned and rolled your eyes. And you were actually disgusted of your own behaviour after doing all this to him. He'd done nothing, so what was making you disapproving him so much?
Because you felt bad about avoiding your boyfriend, you texted him back, informing him that you were home. Sooner or later, you had to bring it behind you.
You didn't notice how wet your eyes got from thinking about having to break up. Because you really didn't want to, it was just.. getting too much and not enough at the same time. Your close connection was no more. Was it?
San was overly happy suddenly when he read your message. And so he got on his way to your apartment right away.
••• to be continued •••
>>>part 2
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Hey! Could you do these headcanons [💖,💐] for Jaime, or Tyrion? I've been in the GoT fandom “recently” (like a month or two ago?), and I don't see much of them; especially Tyrion (I don't know book-Tyrion yet 👀). I've been reading your blog for a while, and I really like your writings; I'm taking my time to read them again jsjsj. I understand if you don't want to, or doesn't catch your eye; I hope I'm not being rude or anything, but I wanted to try my luck. Please take care and be safe! <3
welcome to our cluuuub! welcome to our cluuuuuub!
im glad youre enjoying GoT so much, and my blog! You should def give the books a try if you ever have a chance! Book Tyrion is rlly diff in many cool ways, same with Jaime.
also i uh ... did the thing where i confused the emojis again, so I did “date” for both of them as well LOL oops
💘 Tyrion Date HC
Once Tyrion really starts liking you, he takes you to the loveliest places. We’re talking walks through gardens with little ponds and animals, a covered boat ride on a river, or walking through an exciting market full of Essosi traders. The thing is, he’d never call this “courting”. That makes it too official, too serious. He plays it off as simple visits two friends would make.
He’s excellent at finding out the things you’re interested in. You aren’t aware of it, but Tyrion really pays attention to what you respond to and what you like the most. I mean, he’s already watching you because he loves you, but if you aren’t vibing with an activity and location he’ll take that into consideration for next time.
He has lots of fun experiencing new things with you, period - after you’re together, after you’re married. If he finds out about something new, he’ll tell you so you both can do it together.
Tyrion prefers more private locations, since the court is exhausting and nearly all people he meets don’t like him anyway... but there’s something exciting about having such a pretty girl on his arm, someone who clearly adores him and wants to spend time with him.
Gifts! You tell him he doesn’t have to, but he likes presenting you with little things at the beginning or end of a date. First it’s practical things, so he can brush it off as “You seemed like you could use that”, before it’s just outright pretty jewels and dresses and he has no excuse. At that point it’s because he clearly loves you.
When it’s your name day, he has such a great evening planned out. If you’re married, make that a weekend or a week to travel and enjoy a little mini-vacation. Tyrion is excellent at planning an event in secret, so you have no idea what he has in store until the morning of your birthday.
In a modern AU, he’s not too different - he wants to explore new places and new things. He’d probably live in a city and would always find the strangest hole in the wall places to eat and shop at. If you like books, or records, or clothes, he’s gonna find something really out of the way and specific.
💖Tyrion Pregnancy HC
From the time you announced your pregnancy to the entire 9 months, it was like the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever had. There are SO many thoughts going through his head. Some of them are:
One, he’s delighted you want to have a family with him. Yes, you two are married, but it’s not out of duty to the Lannisters. It’s the ultimate proof you love him, he decides - because there’s a real chance your child could turn out like him, and you don’t care. And he knows you’ll love the child if that happens. He just knows you’ll be a wonderful mother. Second, you clearly express your joy to his family and the courtiers. You’re proud and you don’t care who knows. Third, he thinks about how horrid his own upbringing was, and he’s absolutely 100% determined to be an excellent father. Fourth ...
You get the point. He’s so torn between worry - what if the child is born with a problem, what if you die in childbed, what if he turns out to be a terrible father - and absolute, unbelievable devotion. You thought he was protective and doting before? Nothing is too good for you. You have to tell Tyrion to dial it back a bit, you don’t need new clothes every month and ten sets of silken bedsheets and all this jewelry....
He’s a bundle of nerves the closer the due date is. You two might actually get into spats because you’re exhausted and achey, and he’s just a mess. Jaime actually has to knock sense into him and get him to calm down.
But once your child is born... it all washes away, like a wave carrying him. He’s so happy. He can’t even function. He wants the hold the child all the time, he wants to see them, talk to them - and he asks so many questions to you and the maester. When will the child talk? When will they walk? Can they understand him? Do they know he’s their father? And so on.
Also, his protectiveness would go through the roof. He would never forbid you from going anywhere or doing anything, but.. he would be obviously nervous if you mentioned you were going travelling or something.
And it goes without saying he’s keeping extra tabs on Cersei, certain courtiers, maybe his own father. He doesn’t trust any of them for anything.
Bronn will probably get assigned to bodyguard duty for you. He’s clearly not pleased, and you just sigh and dismiss him for the day so you don’t have to listen to his smart mouth.
He likes to feel your stomach, especially when the babe kicks! It relieves his worries that the child might be born “wrong” somehow. The fact they’re kicking, wiggling and moving, seemingly in response to him, makes him feel much better.
💐 Tyrion Family & Kids HC
He’s an excellent father, even though he has his moments of emotional hang-ups. He wants to ensure his child is educated, empathetic and uses their damn head. While he’d be doting and affection, he wouldn’t be a total pushover and can reasonably discipline them. Tyrion is great at talking to children respectfully and treating them like people.
On that note, he has no patience for someone like Cersei or his father trying to butt in on his parenting. He’ll stand up to them and firmly insist he can raise his child on his own, thank you. He won’t take any “advice” or threats from them.
He’d be quite good at figuring out what his children are talented in, and encouraging them. He’s seen what it’s like when a child is forced into a single box and hinge all their worth on that (Jaime) and when they’re looked over and ignored (him and Cersei).
Yes, he basically decides to do the opposite of whatever his father did.
There would be times when he’d want to educate his children himself, but only on certain subjects - reading and writing, for example. He trusts the maester just fine, he just wants to have that bonding opportunity with them.
(He’s so proud of all of them no matter what though 😭)
If you’d be up for it, Tyrion would like several children. He’s not 100% on how many, since he’s never really given himself a chance to hope and daydream for a family. He knows he needs a son for the Lannister line to continue, but he’d never force you to continue risking your health for that. Ultimately, however many you want, that’s what he’ll be happy with. If it’s all girls, he’ll love them the same.
💘 Jaime Date HC
It’s actually amusing how bad he is at taking you somewhere interesting. It ends up being an accident - you run into him in a beautiful garden or some obscure part of the Red Keep, and he offers to show you something interesting he found. From there, you two get lost and take a while to find your way back.
... Or you take him somewhere you thought was interesting, and he goes along with it. When you point out that Jaime is pretty bad at this “courting” business, he just scoffs and says that’s definitely not what he’s doing. He’s just visiting with ... a friend ... .... just a friend. Yup.
Another aspect is the fact he’s a Whitecloak, and he might be having to avoid Cersei. That kind of makes things dicey.
However, when he returns from the Dreadfort and that absolute hell of a journey, he’s doesn’t care so much who sees you two. He wants to get away from the Red Keep, even if that’s his duty, so he starts wandering out with you. When Jaime is patrolling on his own and sees a place of interest, he makes a mental note to bring it up to you later. And when he does, and you offer to go with him ... Well, he won’t complain.
Since you two have been so many places, he starts to associate them with you. When he’ll pass by it on his own, he thinks about something you laughed at, or something you told him there. If you ever touched his hand or his face while you two visited a garden, he will remember that touch every single time he passes by.
After you’ve known each other for a while, and he’s feeling sentimental, he’ll ask, “Do you remember those docks a mile away from the Red Keep? There was a man pushing a cart that had these colorful glasses and wares. You were wearing a blue dress, and when you dirtied it, I carried you around down the street?”
You have no idea where he’s talking about, but that’s the sort of road his memory lane is.
In the modern AU, he’s still pretty terrible at dates. He’s more of the type who wants to wander around with you and just pop into a place that seems interesting - and then he’ll associate you with it. Anytime he sees that cafe chain again, even in a different city, he remembers the hot cocoa you ordered and the little marshmallow mustache you gave yourself.
And honestly, he prefers to stay home with you, cuddling and watching something. He can be as bad as a needy cat when he wants cuddles and attention; you aren’t escaping anytime soon.
💖Jaime Pregnancy HC
Oh no.
Back when Jaime was a boy and lectured endlessly on the duties of a Lannister heir, he didn’t truly understand what that meant. Especially after Cersei coerced him into taking the white cloak, he figured he’d never have children of his own.
... Well. Then there was three. but they never felt like his, which was Cersei’s intention. It was so strange, even if they looked like him, he couldn’t connect Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen to himself.
Also, look who his father is. That’s a lot to unpack.
It’s not until he’s completely left Cersei and lost his sword hand that he starts thinking and seeing things differently. It feels different when you play with the children, when you look longingly at mothers, when he’s intimate with you and you let him finish inside. He starts thinking what it’s like, and that’s scary, considering it never crossed his mind before.
And then he thinks about how his mother died, and what it did to his father. He never openly discusses it with you, but he has nightmares about it. Jaime doesn’t sleep well for a lot of your pregnancy, especially toward the last few months. He does a little better with each child. To distract himself, he takes care of you.
He likes the idea of having two children, a boy and girl, or two boys, but he’s fine with one or more than two. Anything more than four would probably overwhelm him.
Gods save the person who threatens you, even if it’s his sister. His protective instincts go into overdrive, to the point where someone being disrespectful to you on the street will make him want to fight.
💐 Jaime Family & Kids HC
When you tell him, honestly... his first thought is what an awful parent he’d be. He had one example for what a father is like, and he was hardly an influential part in the lives of the three children he sired. You’d have to reassure Jaime and give him confidence, because he has none where this is concerned. He’s positive he’ll screw it up somehow, he’ll be too distant, or too cruel. How do you even hold a baby? What do you say to little ones? He’s going to take care of you, there’s no question of that, but his nervousness is palpable.
Still, he has such a cute smile when he holds his child - what he considers his first real one - and he right away sees you in them. Their nose, and smile, and eyes. It’s amazing, he decides.
Jaime is a terribly indulgent father. He tries to scold where he can, but more often than not he’s amused by his kid being mischievous. When they pull pranks on guests or get into fights with other kids, he’ll let them off easy if he felt like it was justified. If you’re the more disciplinary parent, the kids totally learn to go to Jaime when they want something.
He’s not overly physically affectionate, but he often ruffles their hair (even if they’re a girl with hair you just braided), gives them rides on his shoulders and lets them sit on his lap and fall asleep. He also has a habit of patting their cheeks or shoulders when he’s pleased.
Jaime didn’t think he’d be excited to teach swordplay and horseback, but he’s so happy when one of his kiddos is interested in both or either. Even if they’re a girl, he can’t help but teach her everything he knows. It also makes him feel better that he has something to teach and pass on even if he lost his sword hand.
Also ... he’s a terrifying papa lion. Do not ever even slightly threaten his children or wife in front of him. His temper and pride will flare and he’ll start a fight right there.
Related to that, he can fight off Cersei’s cruelty and coldness to you and your children together because he knows how to deal with her. If Tywin disapproved of you in some way, or was trying to take control of how the children were reared, Jaime would genuinely struggle to stand up to him. He doesn’t want his kids to go through the childhood he had, but it’s difficult for him. He won’t go into full “fuck this” mode unless the children are seriously threatened.
#libra headcanons#jaime lannister x reader#tyrion lannister x reader#got x reader#game of thrones x reader#i swear ive dorked up that date and pregnancy emoji like three times
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