Lord Help Me Im Back On My Bullshit

You didn't leave often, especially now, but whenever you did, Simon felt himself feeling lost.

You hadn't given him a clear answer for why you were leaving. It was all vague answers, said with a small smile and a glint in your eyes, a promise of a surprise and a plan to return as quickly as you could. It still made him feel unsettled to be alone, but he trusted you. Fuck, he trusted you.

When had he last trusted anyone? His brothers on Eden, maybe. Look how that had turned out for him.

Simon's mind wandered as he sat, back against a tree in the meadow you had created for him. It stretched out seemingly infinitely before him, tall grass that stood swaying in a non-existent breeze. The strands closest to him brushed against his legs and curled around his fingers as they rested on the ground, a reminder of you. This realm was you, and it continued to reach out to him even without your main body being here.

It helped to soothe some of the turmoil churning behind his eyes.

With a sigh, he let his head tilt back. There was a sensation, a phantom wind that brushed through his hair and across his face. It felt like you, and despite everything, it made his mouth curl. "Yeah, I feel you," He whispered to the empty air. The realm shuddered in response. Energy swelling briefly, then settling. Even if he couldn't speak to you directly, you were still here. Maybe that was enough for now.

He hoped you weren't gone for long.

His eyes slid shut, basking in it for a moment, the subtle vibration of the realm all around him. The blades of grass still tangling themselves around his fingers--you, reaching for him, even while being who know's how far away--and the wind carting its fingers through his hair. Finally, with a soft grunt, he pushed himself back up to his feet. Dusting himself off out of instinct before his gaze shifted to the cabin, stood silently a few feet away.

Maybe he could make something for when you get back. A thought that, admittedly, made him chuckle. What was he? Some kind of housewife, waiting for his husband to return from the war? It was a ridiculous idea, but it amused him enough that he was shaking his head as he began to make his way back towards the house. The grass flattened under his boots, only to spring right back up and shiver.

Simon's gaze remained downcast, watching his footing as he meandered back towards the house, mind filled with potential recipes he could try. He wasn't much of a baker, but he was a pretty decent cook. Especially now that he had easy access to ingredients. Pasta dishes were simple and delicious; maybe he could go for something like that?

No, you deserved better than simple.

His foot met the bottom step of the porch, still lost in thought when he felt something.

The air around him shuddered. Prickled.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Simon froze, hand braced on the bannister.

That didn't feel like you.

He turned slowly, and then his knees locked up, legs freezing as his eyes landed on the sky. Your beautiful night sky had turned a deep crimson, dark clouds churning and swirling high above him. The grass wilted, the trees sagged. Somewhere behind him, unseen to his eyes, the stream turned to blood.

No.

No. No. Nononononono.

This was supposed to be safe. You told him he would be safe here. How had it found him? How had She found him?

Where were you?

The clouds parted long enough for a large, gaping maw to appear. So much more horrid now that he wasn't seeing it in flashes through a grainy camera. Crimson sloshed sickeningly through needle teeth, flowing down from the heavens. It hit the grass with a wet hiss, steaming with heat as it began to creep across your realm. Simon could feel it screaming, shuddering around him. The air thrashed as red tendrils began to creep across the meadow you'd so carefully created for him.

An infection spread. Decaying.

Where were you?

He stumbled back, ass hitting the porch, arm scrambling to try and drag him backwards. His body ached, old scars throbbing. His residual limb burned. The memory of flesh-tearing agony made him wince as his heart pounded in his chest, hitting his sternum with every frantic beat. The blood rushed closer, tumbling over itself. Crawling. Falling. Racing and reaching for him.

Voices whispered behind his skull, nestling back in the grey matter. Familiar tones he'd heard before, while locked in an iron casket and trying so hard to escape death.

Simon did the only thing he could think of.

He screamed your name.

A roar of thunder cut through the chaos. The blood stilled. She turned Her empty gaze away from him, mouth dropping further open with a replying shriek that made his ears ring.

The realm shuddered with pain and rage. The sky darkened, oblivion spreading like a spiderweb across it, swallowing the clouds and Her crimson in an expanding nothingness. Shadows coiled around the house, serpentine in movement, the infinite abyss broken up only by the faint, distant twinkling of stars. Thunder rumbled again, and this time Simon recognised it for what it really was. Not a meteorological warning, but a threat. A growl. A warning.

You.

He whimpered your name in disbelief, and the shadows churned. His eyes blinked, hard, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Abyssal darkness, oblivion broken up by eight burning stars that fixed on him, crowned with shadowy tendrils that writhed with fury.

"Simon." Your voice rumbled in the back of his mind, your usual whisper replaced by a storm. "Go inside the house. Now, Simon."

She screeched in outrage. You turned, your own endless maw opening to reveal an event horizon as you bellowed in turn. A sound loud enough to shake the entire realm around you. Tendrils flared, and stars erupted. Your rage was not quiet. It was the collapse of stars. It was a cosmic vortex that threatened to draw in everything around it and reduce it to atoms.

Simon scrambled to his feet, knees almost giving out, but he forced himself to follow your command and move. His feet caught nothing, and he stumbled, body slamming into the door frame. His body complained at the rough treatment, but the ache barely registered as he forced himself through the open doorway. The door slammed behind him without him moving to close it.

Outside, he heard Her pained shrieks and your enraged roars. The realm continued to tremble and shudder, struggling to stay together as two cosmic beings clashed beyond his field of view. He wanted to check on you. He wanted to know you were safe, but he didn't turn--only fled deeper into the house. Body moving on autopilot until he collapsed on the floor of his bedroom, pushing himself back into a corner.

He curled into himself, collapsing his body as small as he could make it. Shaking arm wrapped around his head, trying to block out the sounds.

It didn't stop him from feeling how you screamed.

He lost track of how long he stayed there.

Time seemed to drag by, and yet move too fast all at once. He didn't know if he had been cowering for seconds, minutes, or hours before the realm finally went still and silent. Until all he could hear was his own panicked breathing and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

Simon's arm slipped slowly, hesitantly, from where it had been. He sat in the dark, straining his ears to try and hear any sign of what was happening. But there was nothing. Not even a whisper. Just the realm, shuddering silently around him.

Simon called your name, voice soft and cracking.

Silence.

His stomach rolled. He forced himself to his feet, stumbling when his dead legs almost gave out instantly, barely managing to catch himself on a chest of drawers that was several inches closer than it had been moments before. He called your name again, stronger.

Silence.

"No," Simon gasped, "no, no, don't do this to me. Don't- don't you fucking dare-" He moved, boots pounding against carpet and then wood flooring as he raced through the house. The door to his cabin stood slightly ajar, and the sight made his heart drop into his stomach. He forced his terrified, trembling body to move, yanking open the door with enough force that it slammed into the wall. His steps faltered at the sight that greeted him.

The meadow was dull. The trees were dead. The sky was black and devoid of any distant twinkling lights.

And there you were.

Your incomprehensible form sprawled out on the wilting grass. A long stretch of darkness; coils twisted over themself, tendrils splayed out limply. Your starlight dead and gone. Only an empty void left in their place.

He wheezed your name as he stumbled down the steps, longing for the sound of your answering trill, only to find silence. Simon's feet tripped over nothing, but he pushed himself forward, hand stretched out until it met the cool exterior of your form. "Hey. Hey, wake up. You've gotta wake up," He begged, voice cracking as his vision swam. "Come on, wake the fuck up!"

He slammed the side of his fist into your broken form. The only response he got in response was the guilt began to gnaw at him.

"I'm sorry," He gasped, crumbling against you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Please wake up. Please. Don't leave me here." He whispered your name frantically, pressed himself further into you in an attempt to feel the hum of your being. You were silent.

His heart cracked. His chest spasmed. Simon screamed.

Then, quietly, he felt it. A soft vibration. He stilled, tearing himself backwards and blinking hard to clear his vision. He whispered your name again, a frantic plea, trembling at the edges with cautious hope.

You trilled. Soft and broken, so quiet he almost couldn't hear it. A single star blinked back into existence slowly, wobbling weakly against the dark expanse of your form. The white was duller than before, no visible pupil, but he felt when it settled on him. "Oh, thank god," Simon cried, pressing his face into you. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"Simon..." Your voice whispered in the back of his mind. He cried harder than he had in years. The air around him shifted. You warbled weakly as you coiled your large, broken form around him. Shadow tendrils coiling loosely around his limbs to draw him closer. Closed maw pressed into his stomach, your body humming weakly. Simon fell into you willingly, arm spread as wide as it could, clinging desperately like a child.

You cradled him as he wept, your starlight flickering weakly.

Author's Note:

So... How are we feeling?

Grace banged his fist on the table and Simon flinched. “Simon, if you would just listen for a second—“

“NO! I’m not gonna fucking listen! How many times have I told you I don’t want that fuckin’ bot near me?!”

“I know. Listen, I don’t like needles either, but we have to take your blood to check for—“

“You don’t hafta do anything!” Simon exclaimed. “Just shove me out the airlock and let me DIE already!”

I took a sharp inhale of breath. Simon hadn’t asked for us to let him die since the first few weeks he was with us. Something must be going on with him aside from this argument.

Grace didn’t seem to see that. He was getting angrier and angrier. “Are you serious? Do you hear yourself right now?” He took a breath, standing up from his chair and shoving it aside, hard. “If you would just stop interrupting me—“

“Why do you care so much about my mutations anyway? Do you think I’m a fuckin’ monster?” Simon snarled.

“ENOUGH!” Grace exploded. “I can’t do this anymore! I need to take your blood to make sure the mutations aren’t killing you. I don’t want you to fucking die, Simon!”

Simon seemed taken aback by the curse. I think it was the first time either of us had heard Grace curse. “Why?” he demanded.

“Because I love you!” Grace cried. 

There was a stunned silence. Even Grace seemed surprised at himself. 

I slipped silently out of the lab and went to hide in the cockpit. 

I hated it when they fought like that. It made so much noise, and this ship was tiny and impossible. I had been thinking lately about Stratt’s deliberations over whether to put the crew in a coma, and how all the research showed we would go crazy and kill each other. 

That was assuming they’d be dealing with me, Grace, Yao, and Ilyukhina—a mild-tempered crew—without knowing Simon and Rocky would eventually join us. That was assuming we’d die after a year or two of completing the mission. 

Simon’s arrival brought out a side of Grace I had never seen before. Grace became completely swept up in making sure Simon was okay, so much so that I faded quietly into the background. Simon provoked the anger issues that Grace had spent years, or so he told me, taming. I had begun to understand the type of person he was when he got kicked out of academia. 

I fiddled with the screens in the cockpit, mindlessly exploring the maps of stars and systems nearby on our course to Erid. 

I liked Simon. I really did. There had been a nearly perfect few weeks, after Simon got over the initial shock of living with us, and before he had started picking fights with Grace daily. The four of us spent most of our time in the don’t-go-crazy-room, exchanging stories of the worlds we grew up in. He was a good guy, and he clearly liked the both of us. We had enjoyed having new company. Grace and I allowed ourselves to behave like kids instead of the saviors of humanity.

It had been so complicated recently. The first few arguments, I had intervened. But then I realized we needed at least one emotionally regulated human around, so I let them yell at each other until they exhausted their voices. 

I listen carefully for noises in the main body of the ship. The yelling had stopped. I heard Rocky’s voice, too far away to be picked up by the translator on my laptop, but I could tell it was somewhat angry. I heard the murmured tones of reconciliation, and then the beeps of Armando instructing Grace on how to draw blood from Simon’s good arm. Then, there was silence. 

I turned back to my own tasks, opening up my laptop and working on some code to automate a systems check for the ship so we didn’t have to do it as often. I had been coding a lot recently. I had become used to being by myself. 

I was so focused I didn’t hear two pairs of footsteps approaching the cockpit. When Grace peeked his head inside, I startled. 

“Hey,” Grace said. 

“Hey,” I replied lamely. 

He navigated his body through the narrow space of the cockpit. Simon trailed after him. I glanced down and saw that they were holding hands. 

Oh. 

That must’ve been why the past few weeks were so tense—they had finally figured out their feelings. I wanted to feel happy for them, but the sight only managed to drive another pang of loneliness between my ribs. 

I chewed my lip as I watched them share a look. It was too quiet for my liking all of a sudden. 

“We’re sorry,” Grace said bluntly. 

“For what?” I asked tiredly.

“For fightin’ too much,” Simon said softly. 

I set my laptop aside and rubbed my eyes. “Okay,” I muttered. 

It was quiet again. Somehow, it didn’t feel resolved. 

“Are you okay?” Simon ventured.

“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t like yelling. I’m tired. And I’ve never seen you act the way you have been acting the past few weeks,” I said to Grace.

Grace winced. 

“And I’m lonely.”

They looked guilty. Grace dropped Simon’s hand. 

“No, don’t do that,” I sighed.

I picked up Simon’s hand and put it back in Grace’s. 

“Just get your act together, and I don’t want to hear more yelling on my ship,” I said firmly, as if that was the end of it.

*** 

Technically, no one was fighting anymore. Grace and Simon had evened out into a peaceful existence. They solved their disagreements without yelling. It was quiet again. 

I looked away when they cuddled. I left the room when they kissed. I stopped touching both of them and I kept my distance. They were a pair now, and I didn’t want to interrupt that.

Maybe that’s immature of me. Maybe I’m just punishing myself here. Maybe it’s unrealistic, given that those two are the only humans I’ll ever see again and I need them like I need oxygen. Maybe it’s unfair to them. Maybe they miss me.

I’m sure they don’t. Honeymoon phase, right? I don’t know. Their relationship is definitely atypical of what I was used to seeing on Earth. I had never asked Grace about his dating history, but I got the sense that he wasn’t interested in romance or sex or any of that. I guess that’s why it took me so long to figure out why they had been fighting so much.  

Rocky’s new favorite way to piss me off is to find me in the cockpit (my permanent hiding spot, it seems) and use his echolocation to narrate Simon and Grace’s more intimate activities wherever they are in the ship.

“What is purpose of using mouth, question?” Rocky needled. “Grace puts mouth all over Simon body. Very gross. Disgu~ust.” 

“Stop it, Rocky, I don’t wanna know,” I sighed. It’s bad enough that I can hear them going at it when I’m trying to sleep. 

Rocky did the Eridian equivalent of a chuckle. He paused for a few seconds, echolocating to another part of the ship. “Another question: why Grace not take clothes off?”

I turned to Rocky. “What?”

“Grace touch Simon intimately, but not other way around,” Rocky explained. 

“That’s… strange,” I murmured. I caught myself: “Wait—this is none of my business.”

Rocky chittered smugly.

***

So, I did some research. Shut up.

I don’t know a ton about Simon in comparison to the way I am extremely familiar with Dr. Ryland Grace. I could be right that Grace is somewhere on the asexuality spectrum. And that would probably translate to a slightly unique relationship between him and Simon. 

I don’t know why I care so much. It’s just boredom, I’m sure. I was just curious. I’m cooped up and I’ve gotten nosy. Nothing else.

***

I’m stuck in the same room as them. 

There was a hairline crack in Rocky’s tunnel that we hadn’t noticed and some ammonia leaked into the dormitory. Rocky ordered us to hang out in the lab until it’s fixed. 

“Hey, stranger,” Grace said lightly as I set my stuff down in the corner of the lab. 

“Hey,” I said, turning around and trying to bury myself in data.

“Whatcha working on?” Simon asked, wandering over. 

I perk up a little, always happy to talk about my work. “The Hail Mary has been collecting spectral data during our journey to Erid,” I explain. “I’ve been analyzing it as we go. Some cool stuff in here.”

Grace walked over to see, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing as I flipped through photos the ship’s cameras had taken. It’s the first time they’ve paid attention to me in a while. My fingers trembled slightly on the keyboard. 

Simon put his hand over my shaky one. I froze. I realized they were both very close behind me and I felt two conflicting needs—for some air and for more, more, more. 

“Are you okay?” Grace asked. I had stopped talking mid-sentence. 

“I’m fine,” I said, turning back to my work. Simon stopped my spinny chair halfway, and then turned me around to face them. 

Simon’s hand was braced on the desk next to me and Grace was also hovering very close. I was pretty much speechless. I hadn’t been this physically close to a person in a long time. 

“Something’s wrong with you,” Simon said bluntly. “We didn’t fix it last time and m’tired of it. Spill.”

“I- I’m lonely,” I said, again. “But I’m trying to give you guys space to…be you. To be…a thing together.”

“We’re not anything without you,” Grace replied, his eyes bigger and wetter than usual. Damn, it’s going to be difficult to keep my distance if he keeps looking at me like that.  “You are,” I said. “You’re definitely something. I don’t… I don’t know what you guys are. But I’m trying not to interrupt.” 

“But you’re forcing yourself into solitary confinement,” Simon all but growled. 

I got the sense that he knew a thing or two about solitary confinement.

“And stop saying ‘interrupt,’ because you won’t,” Grace added. “We’re a crew. A team. And we need you.”

“Okay?” Simon probed.

“Okay,” I agreed. 

***

Rocky finished dealing with the ammonia leak. 

Grace and Simon had been gracious enough not to sit in each other’s laps and make eyes at each other in my presence, but I still scurried off to the cockpit as soon as possible. 

I almost forgot about the agreement I’d made with them, so used to my routine of hiding. Simon poked his head into the cockpit and cleared his throat. 

I startled.

“You’re doing it again,” he complained. Grace peered into the hatch behind him. 

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. 

“That’s fine,” Grace said cheerfully. “We’ll come to you. As long as you need us to.” 

Simon sat himself down in the chair next to me and Grace floated around the small room, examining all the little objects and clutter I had accumulated in the past few weeks. A small model that I had used to teach Rocky yesterday about circuitry was disturbed by Grace’s movements and bonked me on the head. 

It was unusual to have them both in the tiny space I had claimed. 

It was much more crowded.

I yelped as Simon grabbed my waist and repositioned me. “What are you doing?” I asked, blushing furiously at the close proximity.

“M’braiding your hair. Stop moving,” he replied gruffly. 

I relaxed after a few minutes. I forgot how soothing it is to have someone touch your hair. Grace watched with a pleased smile as my eyelids fluttered to half-closed. I felt my heartbeat slow and the prickly feeling of emptiness in my skin, of a lack of sensation, subside.

I felt tears well up in my eyes when he tied off the braid with an elastic and patted my shoulder. Grace sat up in alarm. “Why are you crying?” he asked anxiously.

I wiped furiously at my eyes. “It just reminded me of my mom. She used to… braid my hair.”

I felt Simon’s strong arms—one flesh, and one prosthetic—close around my waist again and pull me in. He hugged me to his broad chest. I was smaller in comparison, a detail that felt strangely good. “It’s okay,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t cry.”

Grace pushed himself forward and hugged me from the front.

I took it in slowly. 

Visuals? Grace’s corny t-shirt. Smell? Simon’s shampoo, and the faint smell of sweat. Probably mine. Hearing? My crew’s steady breathing in my ears, and Rocky clanking away distantly in his tunnels. Touch? Strong arms surrounding me. Taste? The salt of my own tears.

I was still overwhelmed. 

“Guys…”

“Mm?” Grace murmured. 

“I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” Simon encouraged. 

“I can’t handle this much, but I need more,” I exhaled shakily. Simon tried to pull away. “No, don’t stop—“

I was crying again. 

Grace leaned back from the hug to look at my face. God, he was so close to me. 

“Fudge,” he whispered. He looked up at Simon. “Si, we messed up.”

“M’sorry,” Simon murmured into my hair. “We didn’t know it was this bad.” 

I struggled against his grip. “I can’t—I can’t be doing this…”

“Why?” Simon murmured, arms loosening. 

“I’m too needy, it’s too much, this isn’t normal—“

“S’not too much,” Simon interrupted.

“Your feelings are perfectly normal,” Grace chided in a gentle, teacherly voice. “This is what happens when people get lonely and isolated.” 

“But you guys are—“

“Just shut up and let us love you,” Simon interrupted. 

I stopped protesting. 

“Our lives aren’t normal anymore,” Grace muttered, stroking my cheek gently. “Why should the three of us try to be normal?”

“Okay,” I said. And it really was final this time. 

I went limp and compliant in Simon’s arms. He made a pleased noise and turned me around to face him. He pressed me closer and rubbed a hand up and down my back. I buried my face in his neck. 

It felt so good, I almost felt wrong enjoying it. 

Simon understood that, I think. It took him a while to get used to us touching him in the beginning. He was always saying something about Eden and being a sinner. 

Grace communicated something to Simon behind my back, and I heard Simon chuckle and then make an “mm” noise. 

“Hey,” Grace said. “Can we cheer you up?”

“What do you mean?” I mumbled, still too busy enjoying the hug.

“I wanna see a smile,” Simon said into my hair. 

“No, I’m too busy being pathetic right now,” I muttered. 

“Why couldn’t the astronaut book a room on the moon?” Grace said, already chuckling at the answer. 

“Why?” I grumbled into Simon’s shirt. 

“Because it was full,” Grace wheezed. 

“I’m not laughing at that bullshit,” I deadpanned. Simon chuckled at my reaction. 

I cracked a smile despite myself. 

“Theeere we go,” Grace grinned. 

Simon poked at my sides. “How about a laugh?”

“Sihimon, don’t—“

“Ooh, good idea,” Grace snickered. 

I tried to use my inertia to get away, but Grace was in the way. I pushed off of his chest to try to get to the door, but then Simon blocked me. 

“You’re not gonna escape if it’s both of us,” Simon chuckled. 

They grabbed me and I squirmed wildly, legs pinwheeling like a cartoon character in zero gravity. 

“C’mon guys, I’m not sad anymore, just hohold on—“

“Nope. Too late,” Grace replied. “You’ve been a sad sack for too long.”

“Sad sack?” Simon chuckled, busy wrangling my arms and pulling them over my head. 

“Yep,” Grace said cheerfully, wiggling his fingers towards my now-exposed torso. 

I squealed and squirmed around. “Grace! Don’t- Simon, let me go right now,” I demanded. 

“Sorry, you need this,” Simon justified. 

Grace buried his fingers under my arms and I shrieked. My body tensed up with the urgent need to pull my arms down. I struggled uselessly against Simon.

“Aww, is someone ticklish right here?” Grace teased, poking and digging one finger under each of my arms. 

Simon and I both cringed at the baby-talk. I was too busy laughing, but Simon groaned in embarrassment: “Grace….”

Grace laughed at us. “Simon, I’m not even tickling you right now, why are you embarrassed?”

I turned my head to look at Simon’s red cheeks. “You’re cuhute,” I giggled. 

“You’re not in a position to make fun,” Simon growled, pinching up my side to add on to Grace’s tickling.

I shrieked with laughter. “AHAHAHA- wait, I’m sohorry- Simon, Grahahace, I’m sorry—“

Grace’s hands migrated down to my stomach. He yanked up my shirt to untuck it from my tied-off jumpsuit. “Maybe now you’ll laugh at my jokes,” he commented, clawing rapidly at my bare tummy. 

“YOUR JOHOKES SUCK AHAHASS—“ 

Simon sucked his teeth. “I think you’ll regret saying that…”

“What do you call two dinosaurs who got into a car crash?” Grace asked. 

“I dohon’t knohohow—“

“Tyrannosaurus wrecks!” Grace giggled. 

“Not- FUHUNNY!!” My protest turned into a scream of laughter as he nuzzled his stubbly face into my belly. 

Simon’s thumb massaged into my hip and I shrieked. “I don’t know, you seem to be laughin’ a lot, angel,” he murmured in my ear. My face burned hotter at the pet name—I’d only ever heard him use it for Grace. 

Grace pouted. “You stole my line.”

“I have a better joke for you,” Simon said conspiratorially into my ear. “He’s right in front of you.”

Grace sputtered in indignation as I laughed from genuine humor. “Wha- Hey! Not cool!”

Grace squeezed rapidly up my thighs. “What are you laughing at, huh?”

I descending into snorting giggles. “S’NOHOHOT MY FAULT! It was SIMON!!”

“Oh yeah?” Simon teased in my ear. “You laughed, though, sweetheart.” 

He pinched up my ribs and kneaded into each pressure point with terrifying accuracy. 

“You laugh, you lose,” Simon added in a tone that sent shivers down my spine. 

I let my head fall weakly onto Simon’s shoulder, kicking desperately. My laughter turned breathy. Their fingers slowed down. 

“You feeling better?” Grace asked. 

“Noho, I’m feeling like I’ve been tohortured,” I fired back. One reprimanding squeeze from Simon set me straight. 

“Good,” Grace said with a dopey smile. He leaned up and pressed a scratchy kiss under my jaw. 

I froze. What did that mean? It must have showed on my face, because I felt a laugh rumble through Simon’s chest. 

Chapter One | One More Time

          It's a Tuesday morning, and the day has been a challenge.

          You wouldn't say you simply woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but that you crawled from under it after clawing your way out of the boogeyman's grasp.

          Long story short, you woke up with a migraine after roughly five hours of intermittent sleep and while shedding cold sweat, slipped on the shower and twisted your ankle upon seeing a big hairy spider on the ceiling, and walked into the kitchen to see the refrigerator stopped running since way before you fell asleep, resulting in a massive puddle all around it and a bunch of ruined groceries you bought the day before.

          And that's only the beginning, because now you'll have to spend some of your well-earned savings on a new fridge (maybe fix it, if you're lucky), buy more groceries, and get the pain in your ankle checked.

          “Ugh,” you mumble, bringing a hand to your forehead to rub the ache away.

          It's going to be a looong day after work, and you're already regretting it.

          Knock-knock.

          Speaking of regrets, you wish you could turn back time to ring in the school and tell the principal you wouldn't make it today. Yet, of course, you thought you could walk off the pain and lessen the ache on both your head and ankle with some painkillers. To your luck, it didn't work. The throbbing feels like it's getting worse the more you walk around the school, the migraine won't go away, and you've had to endure the first few hours since clocking in by catching up on your duties as effectively as you can, making lesson plans, attending an IEP meeting, and scheduling other meetings with some parents for this Friday and next week. Now, you're meant to meet a parent in less than an hour, and you dread putting on your best face forward won't be enough to leave a good impression, because every coworker who's seen you today has noticed you don't feel all that great.

          Knock-knock.

          “Come in,” you call out, upon hearing a repeat of the soft knocking on the door.

          Kris walks into the office, and you have to check the time on the clock on your desk to make sure you didn't miss a meeting or anything of the sort.

          Just to be safe, you greet them with a smile and a good morning, then shuffle through the documents next to your desk for their files.

          “Good morning,” Kris signs, sitting on the chair in front of your desk when you offer them to. “Miss Alphys gave me permission before we go to lunch,” they continue, giving you a slip of paper with the teacher's messy handwriting. “I have a favour to ask.”

          “Oh?” You check the paper, store it away in Kris's file, and frown at them when you're all set. “What's wrong? Are you alright?”

          They smile, putting a quick end to your worry with a decisive ‘I’m okay’.

          “I just…” they sign, trailing off. “I wanted to ask if you want a TV?”

          You raise an eyebrow, prop an elbow on the desk, and fold your other arm next to it, resting your head on your palm and setting the other one down on their file.

          You moved in less than a year ago, and your earnings at your previous job weren't all that great, so…

          You actually could use a television, just so your eyes don't burn and your neck doesn't sprain from how you now watch the news and your favourite shows on the small screen of your phone instead of the big flat screen at your old place.

          “Um…” It's no doubt a strange reason for Kris to excuse themself from class, but then again…

          They rarely do things like this.

          “Are you sure?” you ask.

          Kris nods, smiling wider.

          And that's something they rarely do, too — and so warmly, at that, so you figure there's something more important going on.

          Even the nice bunny lady at the diner across the street offered to give you a part-time job if you needed the extra cash, so it's not like you're a complete stranger to people's kindness to someone who recently moved in, despite also being the only other human next to Kris in a town full of monsters, although… 

          This is different.

          “It's a CRT,” they explain, pointing a finger over their shoulder. “And it's outside, so I can bring it in here, if you wanna take it home with you.”

          It's strange to have them use their voice.

          Oftentimes during your meetings with Kris, they mostly choose sign languages to communicate.

          At rare moments like these, you've learned that they're giving out the extra mile for something meaningful to them.

          “It’s a little old, but—”

          “Of course, dear.”

          Kris immediately seems more relaxed at the use of ‘dear’ instead of their name, yet it wasn't always like that.

          Getting them out of their shell was an incredible task, and you're still not quite sure how it happened.

          “Even if it only works with antennas?”

          “Yes.” You laugh. “It could be in black-and-white, and I'll still take it, y’know? Not only because I don't have a TV, but because you said it's a favour.”

          Outside of school, you've taken up extra jobs to make ends meet, and that's how your current relationship with them took shape.

          One early morning a couple of months ago, Toriel showed up at your office to tell you how much better Kris seemed to be handling their emotions, ever since you came along as the school counselor. So, from that day forward once a week — specifically, every Friday after school — Kris shows up at your office for a therapy session of sorts (after receiving approval from the principal, of course). Offering your time after clocking out and showing your interest in their stories of the Dark World has made them admit they now see you as part of their family, and that they feel a sense of comfort when you call them ‘dear’ instead of ‘Kris’. You were even invited to their birthday party not too long ago, and Toriel welcomed you without reluctance. At one point, it didn't feel right to keep seeing your meetings with them after school as a job, with how much they've opened up to you.

          By then, it was time to say what was on your mind, and Toriel took it in stride. 

          She stifled a giggle and told you that you were being silly for feeling guilty that she was still paying you, in spite of the arrangement becoming more personal than professional.

          She might have been the topic of conversation during the first couple of weeks, yet she seems to be making bigger efforts to understand Kris's moods nowadays, and you've been hoping a repeat of last time doesn't happen, more so for Kris's sake, than for the effort of having to go through that process again.

          “Let me help you,” you tell them, when they stand up from their seat and walk back to the door. “If it's a CRT… It has to be heavy,” you remark, and they chuckle. “Did you carry it all the way here by yourself?”

          “Susie helped out,” they state, opening the door and holding it for you while you pass. “She says she doesn't like school counselors, so she left before I knocked on the door and then—”

          Upon stepping out of the office, Kris's gaze widens, and they come to a rough stop.

          The television they mentioned is plugged in to the socket next to your door.

          It's on screensaver, with the DVD logo bouncing around.

          For a moment, it seems like they're holding a staring contest with the television, and you swear it feels like the television responds to the glare Kris directs at its screen by flickering to signal error for a split second.

          “By the way,” they sign, huffing. “It's not… a normal TV, so be careful, and don't get spooked.”

          You nod along for them to carry on, kind of used to the oddity of their stories by now.

          “It wasn't plugged in when I left it here, and maybe someone just wanted to try it out, but…”

          They meet your gaze, red eyes showing an amount of concern that's only heightened the more stories they've shared to you about the Dark World.

          “If anything weird happens, it's probably because of that,” they explain, unplugging the television. “In the Dark World, he's actually like a celebrity. His name’s Tenna, and he wanted me to find someone to adopt him, since nobody watches him at home anymore, and he wants company.” They stop to glance back at you, a hint of reluctance in the light of their eyes before they sigh and look away. “Mom’s been thinking of buying a new TV, and I don't want him to get thrown out.”

          “So, he's like a friend?” you ask, hoping to erase the gloom in their eyes before they go off to lunch. “It's okay to be worried about him!”

          Kris looks back to you, a smaller smile breaking the uneasy grimace and easing the furrow in their brow.

          “Promise me you'll take care of him?”

          You nod and offer your arms out, letting them walk up to you for a hug.

          “I promise.”

 • • • • •

          “Um…”

          Many hours later, after contacting someone who could fix the refrigerator, going to the doctor to get yourself checked and treated, and buying fewer groceries in case the fridge acts up again, you're home.

          And now that you're finally able to rest, you've brought Kris's television into your living room, kneeling in front of it to — somehow — try to start a conversation with... Tenna.

          “Hello?”

          Stars, you're thankful you live alone.

          Otherwise, you don't know how you'd explain to a partner or a roommate why you're trying to chat with an inanimate object instead of them.

          “Maybe I need to… turn you on first?” You consider your choice of words and immediately regret them. “Okay. Not like that, so don't get scared. Just… In a literal, electrical sort of sense. You get me?”

          No response.

          You figured as much.

          Still, you stand up, fetch the plug behind the television, and connect it to the socket on the wall next to it.

          Finally, you kneel once more, scoot closer, and press on the power button.

          “Um…”

          Again, this seems ridiculous as hell.

          “Hello.”

          The channel it's currently on is simply loud static, and — for a moment — it feels like it will stay that way, until…

          “Good evening, everybody,” a weather reporter says, his smile big and bright. “Better get your umbrellas ready for tomorrow! It's gonna be—”

          The channel changes on its own.

          “Gusto en conocerte,” a Hispanic woman from a random soap opera greets, offering her hand out to a man — shirtless, for whatever reason — showing up at her door with a six-pack of abs and a six-pack of beer.

          The rest of the audio dissolves into background noise as you process what's just happened, and you even look down at your hands to make sure they haven't acted on their own to drive you insane.

          “Uh…” You blink away the confusion for a few seconds — eyes still fixed on your palms — and then reply with, “Nice to meet you, too?”

          The channel changes to a kid's show, where a group of children are smiling and giggling, bouncing around with a happy clown lady.

          “You're… Mister Tenna, aren't you?”

          The channel changes once more.

          “Correct!” a game show announcer screams, pointing a finger at a goat woman lost in excitement, having won the jackpot prize.

          Now, it's sort of a horror movie scenario more than a happy-go-lucky one, as the channels start to change one after the other, allowing only letters to slip by until… 

          Mister Tenna spells out your name, letter by letter.

          “Y— Yes,” you reply, and you gulp down the sudden fear that's climbed its way to your throat. “That's my name! Kris told you, didn't they?”

          Static, then a change of channel.

          “Incorrect!” the same game show announcer screams, now pointing a finger at a goat man drowning in sorrow, having lost all his bets.

          “Uh…”

          That answer doesn't exactly help with how creepy it feels to be communicating with an entity that's spelled out your name perfectly through quick channel changes.

          “Then… How?”

          He switches to a laugh track that follows while two black men — assumedly brothers or in some way related, if you remember the sitcom correctly — are having a discussion.

          Channel switch.

          “Name?” a different show announcer asks.

          And yet another.

          “Tag!” a red monster named Elmo exclaims, while… tagging himself.

          Your eyes widen at the realization, and you stare down at yourself to see you're still wearing your work uniform, reminding you it's been over sixteen hours since you woke up.

          At the reminder you have to sleep soon and be ready for another day, you aim to look for your phone and check the time, but…

          “Good evening, Hometown! It's currently ten thirty-three, and—”

          The channel changes to static, and — for a moment — you swear you see the freaking television blush on screen.

          “Um…”

          You seriously need to expand your vocabulary if you want to impress Kris's astonishingly vocal friend, and yet…

          You know it will be difficult to get used to the oddity of this situation.

          “Wait,” you blurt, and then you realize this practically means you have a roommate now. “Does that mean you'll be able to see me whenever you're turned—” You cough, clearing your throat. “I mean… Whenever you're switched on?”

          Several changes of channel ensue, like he's having a hard time finding the right answer.

          “Yes,” an ecstatic, pale, chubby, and blonde woman exclaims, jumping into the arms of an equally ecstatic, red-haired, muscular, tanned woman as she accepts her proposal.

          “Okay, so…”

          Goodbye to the days you watched television in nothing but your underwear.

          “Good to know.”

          A frown twists your mouth as you consider his situation here in the… Light World?

          “So, that means I should keep you plugged into electricity whenever I can, if that means you'll still be conscious, but you won't see me?”

          Tenna replies by changing to a channel with a teenage cat girl shrugging, rolling her eyes, and saying, “Ugh, whatever. You decide.”

          And then, he clarifies he means that in an excited manner rather than broody, since he follows it up with the same kids’ channel, showing the group of children cheering at the same clown while she crafts different shapes with a bunch of balloons.

          “Uh…” You smile. “Cool! Then, I will. I guess a blackout is kind of like a… Bad day? A coma? A small shock? A… heart attack?” You hum in thought and rub your chin, trying to search for the best way to describe it. “Something like that? You don’t have to answer right now. I'm just… wondering how this works.”

          You figure this is a terrible first impression with how many ‘buts’, ‘ums’, and ‘uhs’, and even a forsaken ‘something like that’ you're replying with, but — again — this will take some time getting used to.

          “Mister Tenna,” you call out, noticing you've kept yourself silent for a bit too long, based on the fact he's changed the channel to one on a commercial break. “Could I ask you one last thing, before I wash up and go to bed?”

          He immediately responds by changing the channel to a blue bird monster trying to act cool by asking ‘What's up?’, and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

          “I know we've only just met, but…” You swallow hard and close your eyes tightly, letting out breath. “Does this mean we can be friends?”

          Oh, no.

          Oh, crap.

          You've done something wrong, because Tenna literally starts shaking — as in — the television goes silent, and into a bright white screen, tumbling left and right like there's an earthquake and it's only affecting him.

          Fight or flight immediately kicks in, obliging you to stand up and step back, fists held up in front of you and legs trembling like you're ready to do both things at once.

          “ABSOLUTELY,” a hyped man's voice shouts, and a — listen to this — a giant red flower blooms from the center of the screen like something from a lucid dream. 

          “Uhhh…” you drone, falling back to your knees like you're witnessing an epiphany.

          This is probably the equivalent of Tenna going into full static, so you hope he doesn't judge you too much for your reaction.

          “C— Cool.”

          Smooth.

• • • • •

[Link to the full story on AO3.]

Author's Note:

Sharing at least chapter 1 on Tumblr! The rest will be up on AO3 (uncensored, rated M), and on Wattpad and Quotev (censored, rated T).

The rickety branches of the sprawling trees above creak in the howling wind. There was a sense of unease in the forest tonight, as if it was being disturbed, seen by unworthy eyes. And it was. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

You don’t belong in these woods, surrounded by wary glowing eyes of critters in the shrubs and encased in a barrier of twenty foot tall trees. And yet, here you are. 

Searching for the “monster in the woods”, as your friends so eloquently put. Brent and Josie, your best friends, had dared you to search the forest outskirting the city of Detroit. 

The monster? A seven foot tall werewolf, if the cryptid websites were to be believed. 

Let’s hope they’re wrong, you think. 

Your hands have long since become numb in the chilled Autumn breeze, and you can just barely see your breath billowing in front of your lips. It curls up like smoke from a dragon, before you can no longer see it due to the dark sky. You flick your little flashlight to the left, the light illuminating a pair of glowing eyes — before they suddenly disappear. 

What the fuck? Just a rabbit…, you hope to yourself.

A branch snaps behind you, and you whirl around, coat flaring out at your sides. You beam the flashlight every which way, but you don’t see anything of note. 

A burst of wind tickles the back of your neck, hot like steam.

Wait, hot?

You lunge forward, but you hit a rock and tumble to the cold forest ground. You hit your stomach hard, and quickly scramble to your back to see what was breathing down your neck. 

Your eyes sweep across a chest and strong arms that end in clawed hands, and then — you suck in a sharp breath. Strong jawline, full lips, and an aquiline nose. Eyes that seem to glow in the dark. You can’t see much else due to limited light, but you know one thing. This is the werewolf that haunts the woods. 

And he’s beautiful, devastatingly so. 

“Why are you here?” A deep voice, raspy from disuse, cuts through the silent night. 

You gulp, mouth suddenly as dry as cotton balls. 

“I-I… are you… going to kill me?” You ask. 

You notice a blue circle flick to blood red on the side of his right temple. An illuminated circle that looks strangely familiar to the androids — the ones that chose to keep them after the revolution, back in the city. But this man — creature? — couldn’t be an android, could he? 

“Kill you?” He tilts his head to the side. “No… no. Not unless you give me a reason to.” 

His voice hardens at the end of his speech, and he spreads his legs apart more, ready for a battle. 

“Why are you here?” He questions. 

You cautiously stand on unsteady legs, “To… to find you, and looks like I have.” 

A snarl curls his lip, and you hear a low mechanical noise coming from his throat, almost like a growl? He launches at you, so fast you have no time to react. In a second, you’re on the ground again, pinned down by the strong legs and arms of this man. So close, you can see the glow of his eyes. Like burning amber, they lure you in. You can also smell him; He smells like a breeze that blows through the surface of a lake, and you find that you don’t… hate it. His hair is shaggy, down to his shoulders and hanging like a curtain between you. 

His fingers grip your throat, claws digging into the delicate sides. You can barely breathe, and your fight or flight instincts kick in. You choose to fight. Your legs kick out as best they can pinned by this man, and you bring your hands to his broad shoulders, pushing and pushing. He doesn’t budge, only digs his claws in deeper. You feel blood drip down the side of your neck, leaving a hot trail. 

“P-Please!” You barely get out, fingers clawing uselessly at his hands. Something flickers within those amber eyes, and his grip loosens, slightly. 

“Who sent you?!” He growls, low within his throat. 

“What?! Just… my friends!” You cry, tears biting into your cheeks. He’s not making any sense, but nothing is really making sense to you right now. 

“Don’t lie!” 

“I’m not! M-My friends w-wanted me to - to see if the m-monster in the woods was real!” You barely manage to get your words out, vision dotting around the edges. You suppose, if you are to die, dying at the hands of a hot man would be your ideal way. Just when you think you’re going to pass out, the werewolf releases his grip. Air rushes to your lungs, and you suck in greedily. It burns, but you don’t care. You could have died!

The werewolf examines you, eyes glowing… beautifully in the moonlight. You gaze back, smoldering in anger and… desire? He leans in, a furrow between his brows, wrinkling the skin there. You have an impulse, that you just barely manage to control, to smooth your finger over the area. 

His LED goes back to blue, and he grunts as he gets off you, offering his hand to help you up. You debate flipping him off, but you don’t. He pulls you up without much struggle. 

“What’s your name?” You ask, brushing leaves off your ass and coat. 

“Connor.” 

Not much of a talker, you muse.

You state your name in reply, and the two of you stand in awkward silence. 

“Your… friends told you to find me? Why?” 

You start to say something, but a shiver wracks through you, and you can see his LED flare red at the movement. His eyes scan your form. 

“You’re cold?” 

You nod, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to get feeling back. The werewolf, Connor, gently takes your hand, and he starts leading you deeper into the woods. You should feel scared, but you don’t. Your heart isn’t racing anymore, and you feel calm. Like you’ll be safe with him. 

“Where are we going?” 

Connor’s brown hair reflects in the moonlight, the glow surrounding him like a halo. 

He looks like an angel.

“I have a house, you’ll be warm. Safe.” 

You quirk a brow even though he can’t see, “A house? Here? How has no one found you?” 

He’s silent the rest of the way, soon leading you into the mouth of a cave. It’s dark, and you shuffle closer to the tall man. Connor releases your hand, cold sweat breaking down your forehead at being alone — but then, light. 

“This is hardly a house,” you snipe. 

“It’s been my home for more than four years; I’m sure you’ll manage for one night.” 

Connor kneels in front of a fire pit, the rising flames illuminating the cave walls and the man in front of you. Warmth seeps into your bones, and you almost let out a moan at how delicious it feels. While you get heated up, you take in Connor, who has once again turned to face you. 

His tall form is clarified from the firelight. His hair is brown, falling to his shoulders in luscious waves that make the tresses look silky soft. Your fingers twitch, itching to run the appendages through the hair. 

Continuing down, his chest is broad, with sparse black hair on his pectorals, running down his stomach. The hair under his bellybutton trails down, down, down to… oh fuck, he’s very naked. And very endowed. 

That’s fine, totally fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before, you think, but it feels different this time. And you’re not sure why. For now, you’ll just ignore his lack of clothing.

The werewolf is silent in your perusal, and you’re extremely curious, so you continue. His thighs are thick, hairy, and his feet are clawed. Other than that, along with his wicked sharp fingernails, he looks almost… normal. 

Your eyes skid to his, surprised to see them boring so intently on your form, as well. You’re not naked, and your thick jacket hides much of your body, but that doesn’t seem to stop Connor.

You cross your arms, inching backwards to the entryway. Connor shifts forward. 

 “I promise I won’t tell anyone about you, but you need to let me go,” you demand. 

“It’s going to storm soon, best if you stay here.” 

You quirk a brow, “And how do you know that?” 

Connor smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I can smell much better than a normal android.” “How can I trust that?” 

“I can smell the moisture in the air signaling rain coming, the perfume you’re wearing from here, the sweat on your neck, the mud and grime on your clothes, and the fact that you’re arou —.”

“Okay! I get it!” 

Your body heats up more at the knowledge that he can smell it, and you shift from foot to foot. Why are you so attracted to him? 

“Don’t you have any clothes?” You ask, sniffling.

“I have no use for such things,” he replies. 

It’s gotten a lot colder in the cave, wind billowing inside and making the fire flicker. You half worry that the wind will blow it out completely. 

Then, you hear it. 

The pitter-patter of rain droplets, before it intensifies. Looks like Connor was telling the truth. 

“If you won’t let me go, at least tell me what you plan on doing to me.” 

Connor sits by the fire, placing his hands open palmed in front of it, even though he can’t feel temperature change. 

“Nothing. When the weather clears, you’re free to go.” 

“Just like that?” 

Connor nods, sending you a tight lipped smile. His expression is solemn… like he doesn’t want you to leave. If he’s been here for a while, he must be lonely. You purse your lips. 

“There’s a small spring further in the cave if you want to… wash off. You smell filthy.” 

You bark a laugh, a bit offended, but finding it amusing nonetheless. You reach to your shirt, sniffing it and recoiling at the smell. Mud and twigs latch onto your pants and coat. You could definitely use a bath, but do you trust Connor enough to be that vulnerable when he’s around? 

“Okay. Where is it?”

Your words surprise you, but in your heart you know he won’t do anything. 

He stands, and without a word starts walking further into the cave before abruptly stopping, causing you to bump into his back. 

“It’ll be dark. I forgot humans can’t see without light. Do you still have your flashlight?” 

“No, I dropped it when you rushed me,” you mumble bitterly. 

Connor grabs your hand, his large fingers curling around yours. He radiates warmth, and you shuffle closer. 

“Will the water be cold?” 

“No, this cave has an abnormal amount of geothermal heat the further in you go.” 

You don’t speak after that, relying on Connor to guide you. It’s so dark, and so quiet, you can even hear the soft whir of Connor’s mechanisms in him. It’s strangely comforting, and subconsciously your fingers tighten around his hand. Connor stops, and you look ahead at the sight before you. 

Moonlight streams through a small opening in the ceiling, highlighting a small spring that looks just deep enough to submerge your body. It’s beautiful. Your mouth parts in awe, having never seen something like this. Stalactites hang from the ceiling, just barely visible because of the light. 

“Wow, would you look at that? It’s gorgeous.” 

Connor smiles, releases your hands, and turns to face you. 

“Yes, it is. I come here often to meditate. The smell of the water is soothing to me. Honestly, I haven’t seen much of the world, but it’s the only thing I find beautiful,” he shyly glances at you. “Until now, that is.” 

You rove your eyes over him again, before stopping to look into his glowing eyes. You’re speechless at this moment, overcome with longing. Longing for what, though? 

Connor seems disappointed when you don’t say anything, mouth turned into a little frown, and eyes seeming impossibly wider. Puppy dog eyes. 

Which is fitting. 

“I’ll bathe here, then,” you say, mentally facepalming. Where else would you bathe? But Connor seems pleased, nodding before heading back the way you both came. You inhale, before shucking off your clothes as fast as you can, and take a step into the water. It’s warm, and you groan at the sensation. It feels heavenly on your stiff muscles. 

You scoop up some of the clear water, pouring it over your hair and sighing in bliss. You make sure to wash the dried blood from your neck, and under your arms and privates. You don’t know how long you stay in the water, long enough for your fingers to prune. Just as you’re about to get out you hear footsteps behind you, and you tense. 

You turn your head so you can peer over your shoulder, hands coming up to cover your breasts. Connor stands at the edge of the spring, a furrow between his brows and a frown on his luscious lips. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been here for a long time,” he asks. 

You breathe a sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders. He’s just worried about you, which is much more appreciated than the thought that he was finally coming to off you. But somehow you know he would never do that. 

“The water is relaxing.” 

Connor nods. 

“I suppose I should get out now, though. Could you turn around?” You say, voice barely above a whisper. 

The android turns without a word. You get a delicious view of his taunt ass, and you smile at the mole that’s smack dab in the middle of his left cheek. You raise your foot on a ledge that juts out, but the water makes it so slippery, and you fall into the spring with a yelp. 

Strong arms are around you in seconds, and your head breaches the surface. You gasp for air, fingers coming to rest on Connor’s broad shoulders. 

“I’ve got you, relax!” He yells, pressing you tighter to him when you shake. Truthfully, the water isn’t deep enough for you not to reach the bottom, so you’re fine, and you don’t need Connor to hold you. But his arms feel so nice around you, and your heart is racing, and you can’t help but moan a little and arch into him. With how close he is, you can feel every inch of him. His strong thighs, chest, and his erect cock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be… be aroused, I just,” he fumbles, and tries to release you from his hold. But this feels like it was meant to happen, and you can’t deny the way he’s made your heart race with something since you’ve met him. You’re attracted to him, and you think he’s attracted to you, as well. 

“It’s okay, I… liked it.” 

You step from his arms, backing up a little. You note that you immediately miss his warmth and hard press against your soft body. Connor’s LED flashes yellow, and he tilts his head in that adorable fashion. 

“You did? I thought — thought you were scared of me? Disgusted by me…,” he mumbles the last part, and whatever shell you had around your heart breaks. 

Ever since he brought you here he’s been nothing but kind and considerate. He built you a fireplace, gave you shelter against the storm (even if you didn’t know it was going to storm. Thanks, weather app), and led you to the one place he finds beautiful. You might have been scared of him, but you never thought he was repulsive. It’s time you said that. 

“Connor, I don’t know why but… I feel this pull to you. This connection. I may have been scared,” hurt flashes across his face. “At the start! But I never thought you were disgusting. In fact, I’m quite attracted to you…,” you’re mumbling by the end, embarrassed. 

But Connor looks like you’ve hung the sun and the moon for him, and he steps towards you, and you think he’s going to kiss you. Instead, Connor wraps his arms around you, and squeezes you as tight as he can without breaking your bones. You feel tear drops hit your bare shoulder, his body shaking imperceptibly against you. Raising your hand to his hair, you gently stroke the strands, resting your forehead against his shoulder and giving the skin there a kiss. Connor leans back, staring into your eyes before slowly trailing to your parted lips. You lick them unconsciously, and Connor narrows in on the action, pupils blowing with lust. 

You barely have time to breathe before he’s surging forward and capturing your lips with his. Vibrant colors burst behind your eyelids at the sensual strokes of his lips with yours. 

His lips are soft, which would have surprised you had you not known that androids were built to imitate humans and what made them human. You press your lips firmer against his, moaning when Connor brings his large hand to encompass your small breast. He squeezes firmly, thumb running over your taunt nipples. Breaking from the kiss, you gasp for air. 

“Connor, fuck!” 

“Do you like that?” He whispers, LED yellow and eyes focused solely on you. He lowers his head further to your neck, running his nose on the slope of skin. He inhales your earthy scent, cock hardening even further. Was that even possible? Since he had laid eyes on you in the woods, stalking you from afar, he knew something was different about you. 

You whine at his question, back arching. Water sloshes between you two, and it’s then that you remember you’re in the spring still. 

“We sh-should get out,” you whisper, hands pressed to his shoulders. He nods, and within seconds you’re out of the warm liquid, and he’s leading you back to the fire. It hasn’t dimmed in the time away, and you notice an animal pelt on the ground. You must have missed that earlier. 

Connor turns your head to look at him, and you lean up to kiss him. You can’t get enough of him; he’s everywhere all at once; His taste, his feel, his scent, washing over you and grounding you. 

Swiping your tongue along the seam of his mouth, Connor grants you access. His mouth tastes like nothing, and you notice that his tongue has hard bumps on it, but they aren’t unpleasant. You tilt your head to the left, curiously running your tongue over those bumps. 

Connor pulls away, heaving for breath even though he doesn’t breath, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was built for a specific purpose, but I never made it far enough to learn what that was before the revolution. They’re my sensors,” he explains, but you’re given no time to digest that information before he’s gently guiding you to the ground, and kneeling over you. 

“S-Sensors?” You mumble, curving closer to him and his touch. 

“I’m equipped with over a million sensors that give me real-time data, I’ll be able to taste everything that makes you, you.” 

Oh god, you think, chest heaving at the thought. Your cunt clenches around nothing, and all you can think about is his thick tongue thrusting into you, tasting you. How much would he be able to taste? 

“Connor, please… touch me,” you cry, trying to press your thighs together to relieve some of the ache growing in your core, but his knee stops you. 

“Where… Here?” He says, running a featherlight fingertip across your collarbones, staring with his golden eyes into yours. 

You notice that they’re mostly brown, but flecks of amber that seem luminescent glow within the depths. They momentarily distract you, luring you in like a moth to a flame. 

Connor pinching your nipple snaps you out of it. 

“How about here?” 

His voice is so deep, so light, it fills your head and makes you float through the air, never wanting him to be silent. You’re dizzy, pussy soaking wet and aching for his touch. 

“N-No, please, lower,” you sob, undulating against his knee which is pressed against your bare sex, but it’s not enough. No matter how you move your hips, press your folds and clit against his skin, it can’t quench your thirst. 

Connor let’s out a dark chuckle, and you catch a glint of fangs before you’re lost to your lust again at the trail of his fingers down, down, down. 

His fingers slide along your sticky folds, wet with your arousal. He parts the flesh, fingers teasing your opening. Connor’s finger dips just barely into your cunt, and you shake with such desire it’s almost palpable. You can feel his claw skirt gently against you, and although you know there is no way he could have his fingers in you with those claws, that doesn’t stop you from begging. 

“Pleaseplease Connor!” 

Connor tilts his head, shaggy hair dancing in his eyesight. He’s leaning against one forearm above your head, and you can see a cruel smirk on his face. Connor uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit. It’s so much, too much, and already you’re on that precipice — you want him to take you past that edge, past the cliff that you’re teetering over. Something that no man has been able to do before. 

Connor can smell your arousal wafting from your cunt, and you smell so good and wet, he just wants to devour you. But not yet — he won’t give you that until you’re begging him to taste you. 

“What do you need, love?” He murmurs in your ear, trying with all his willpower not to flip you around and breed you on his cock. He wants this to be about you, not him. 

“Fuck, your tongue, your mouth, everything, taste me please,” you beg, eyes scrunched shut and hands fisted in your hair at the intense pleasure his thumb is giving you. But it’s not enough, you need to be filled. But one glance down at his erect cock and you know you won’t be able to take it without being stretched. And since his fingers are no use… 

Your breathing stops when you notice a bulge at the base of his cock, on the top side. Those aren’t his balls, so what are they? Connor follows your gaze, and his chest rumbles in a laugh. 

“My knot.” 

“Your what?” You ask, a bit incredulous. Your head is swimming. He is so different from other androids, but even though he has so many unique qualities, none of them scare or disgust you. They just make you curious. 

Connor, unfortunately, thinks the opposite. His LES flashes red, and he leans off you, bottom lip tucked between teeth. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s… unsightly. I don’t have to use it on you, if you don’t want to. I don’t even know if you can take it…,” he mutters. 

“No! No, I want to, to feel all of you. I want you to give me everything. Please,” you whine. You breathe a small sigh of relief when his LED goes back to that beautiful blue. 

Connor doesn’t wait, positioning himself between your legs and throwing your legs up and over his shoulders, lower half of your body raised so your twitching cunt is directly mouth level with him. 

You watch as Connor just stares and stares and stares. Your cheeks burn, and you try and you shift in embarrassment. 

“Don’t just s-stare,” you whisper, and his eyes hone in on you. He looks angry, and you gulp. 

“Why shouldn’t I worship a work of art?” 

Your heart stops at his words, overcome with such… happiness.

Connor dives in, using his tongue to lick through your folds. It feels strange, those bumps of his giving his tongue an even more rough feel than a humans, but you find that you don’t hate it. Connor groans loudly, whispering something reverent into your cunt, before he’s pressing you closer to his face, claws digging into the skin of your thighs. You can feel the sharp sting as they cut through your skin, but you don’t care. You like it. The cutting pain mingles deliciously with the pleasure his tongue is stealing from you, and you buck your hips against him — clit bumping into his nose at the action. 

“Connor, Con, Con,” you beg, tears of rapture spilling down your hot cheeks. He ignores your pleas, focused only on bringing you to that edge and well past it, again and again. 

He’s like a man starved, lapping and suckling, scraping his teeth against your clit. Connor licks at your folds and draws that sweet nectar from your core, and you almost die when his lips trail past your opening, and down to the puckered hole of your ass. No one has ever touched you there, but you aren’t nervous. You weren’t lying to Connor when you said you wanted everything he would give you. 

The first flash of his tongue on your hole is strange, different. 

The second is like an aphrodisiac. 

And at the push of his thick muscle in the tight entrance, earth shattering. 

“Oh god!”

Connor smirks cockily, and you can feel it against your skin. His tongue is lazily thrusting in and out, and he brings a hand up to rub your clit, occasionally dipping ever so delicately in your drenched opening. Your bundle of nerves is pounding like it has its own heartbeat, it’s so stimulated you’re not sure how much more you can take, all thoughts filled with the werewolf in front of you. 

You come hard and fast, a steady pulsing in your clit as he keeps on circling it. It’s like he knew exactly when you were going to come undone, because one minute his tongue is inside your ass, and the next it’s inside your cunt, while your slick floods onto his mouth. You can see his eyes roll back in his head. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs into you, and you’re so overstimulated that you have to physically drag his face away from your cunt. 

“Too much, too much,” you cry, but you can feel your pussy still clenching, still aching with the need to be ravaged by him. 

Connor smiles warmly at you, bringing your fingertips to his lips to press hot little kisses against them. Your heart thumps faster, you feel so loved and cherished, and you know that should freak you out — you haven’t known this man for long, but you don’t. It feels right, perfect. 

You’re overcome with the need for him, and — surprising both of you — you take your hand and snake it between the two of you, grasping his hot cock and aligning it with your entrance. 

Connors’ eyebrows are raised, and he looks at you for confirmation. 

“I’m sure, I want you. So bad, please,” you say. 

Connor leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that curls your toes. 

“It might… hurt, tell me to stop if it does, and I’ll stop,” he says, and your heart swells at how much he cares. This whole time, it’s been about you — the fire, the spring, getting you off so many times before he even thought about his own pleasure… 

You nod, and then Connor replaces your hand on his cock with his, and slides his cockhead up and down your slit, smearing the cum. He presses his hips forward, and his cock squeezes through the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. Already, his cock is splitting you open, and you can’t help but tense. 

Connor, sensing your tight walls get even tighter, uses his thumb to rub circles into your clit, and bends to capture your left nipple into his mouth. He suckles the taunt bud, grazing his fang against the skin and grins when he can feel your walls relax, and a breathy moan leaves your plump lips. His cock slides in even more, and you cry out in pleasure when he pinches your clit. 

“Keep going keep going, fuck fuck,” you whimper, eyes screwed shut. You plaster your hands on his biceps, bucking your hips to try and take more of him. Finally, after what feels like forever, he bottoms out inside you. Connor’s hips are flush with yours, and his fingers still against your bundle of nerves while you both take deep breaths. 

He slides out half way, and shallowly thrusts back in, testing the waters. You moan in unison, your blunt nails digging into his biceps. It’s not enough force to make his skin fade away to the alabaster shell beneath all androids have.

“You feel fucking — divine,” Connor gulps, undulating his hips in more forceful drags. You’re a blubbering mess, chanting his name before switching to oh god, oh god. 

Connor impales you over and over again, cock hitting you in places you never knew existed. He’s like the puzzle to you, completing you and making you whole. 

“Gonna come, wanna knot you, please, can I?” Connor strains out, cheeks tinted blue and biceps bulging with restraint. 

“Yes, yes fuck, knot me Connor,” you airily say, and Connor drives his cock all the way inside you opening catching on his swelling knot. It’s a tight squeeze, but he forces the bulge through your opening, and stats burst beneath your eyelids at the pleasure of it. You feel thick ropes of artificial semen paint your walls white, and when you shift your hips, you find that Connor physically can’t move from your cunt. He’s completely tethered to you, and it’s that knowledge that brings you to a crescendo, before you drop off the edge. You come loud and abrupt, throwing your head back and spine arching off the stone floor. 

After, you’re both breathing heavily, but you can still feel Connor coming inside you and locked from that knot. 

“How… how long will it last?” You ask, eyelids heavy. 

Connor slumps against you, forearms resting on either side of your head. He kisses you softly, gently running his tongue along the seam of your mouth before he answers. 

“A few minutes.” 

You nod, resting your arms around his neck. In the afterglow of sex, you have time to think of all that happened. You don’t regret it, far from it, and you want to continue to see Connor… but how would the world react to an android like him? 

“Are there others like you?” 

Connor shakes his head, hair tickling your neck and making you giggle. 

“Not that I know of, why?” You can see his LED flicker to red, and you know he must be feeling anxious. 

“I just… want to continue seeing you, but I don’t want the outside world to hurt you, once they see that you’re not a ‘human’ android,” you ramble. “I mean, uh, if you wanted to… live with me, or something. You could stay here, of course!” 

Connor raises his head to grin at you. 

“You want to see me again?” 

Of course that’s all he got out of that. 

You roll your eyes, but nod with a smile. 

“I do.” 

🖤 JINU – The Leader. The First. The Curse You Chose.

“She said my name like it tasted wrong on her tongue. But one day, she’ll moan it like a prayer.”

He’s the one who holds the leash on everyone else’s insanity—but barely.

Jinu is calm. Controlled. Refined. Until he’s not.

He craves reverence. He wants to be chosen by you, even if he has to manipulate fate to make it happen. He’s your shadow in every life. Your ruin in silk and soft words.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He doesn’t need to.

“I don’t need to take her. She’ll give herself to me. She always does.”

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❤️ ABBY – The Protector. The Fire. The First to Bleed for You.

“I don’t care if she loves me. I just want her safe. And I’ll break every bone in this city if someone makes her cry again.”

Abby is loud. Brash. Playful on the surface.

But underneath the teasing is volcanic violence barely suppressed by loyalty. He notices everything—every flinch, every unspoken hurt.

He doesn't know how to be gentle with the world.

Only with you.

“Let the others beg for her. I’ll show her. I’ll be the one she runs to when she’s scared.”

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💋 ROMANCE – The Liar. The Lover. The Puppetmaster of Her Heart.

“If she won’t choose me willingly… then I’ll become the only choice she has.”

Romance is silk sheets and shattered mirrors. He weaves his love like a trap—one you're not supposed to see until you’re wrapped in it.

He’s the one who makes you smile through tears. The one who makes you think he’s the victim.

He’ll build you a fantasy, then chain you to it.

“She thinks she’s free. That’s what makes this fun.”

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🐾 MYSTERY – The Echo. The Creature. Her Devoted Shadow.

“She looked sad again today. So I smiled until she stopped.”

Mystery doesn’t understand the world without you in it.

He doesn’t need you to remember. He just wants you near.

Touch-starved and terrifying, he mirrors your feelings like instinct. He’ll growl at your sadness, purr at your joy. He’ll follow you until you call his name again.

“I don’t want her to be afraid of me. But if fear keeps her close… I’ll take it.”

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🕷️ BABY – The Quiet Obsession. The Sadist. The End of the World.

“She doesn't need to love me. She just needs to stop looking at anyone else.”

Baby doesn’t speak much.

He doesn’t have to.

Everything he does is for you, and only you. The rest of the world is white noise. People? Disposable. Obstacles? Erased.

He would burn down centuries of work to keep you looking at him.

He smiles softly while thinking of tearing everything else apart.

“They can touch her first. That just means I get to touch her last.”

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Author's Note: I'm so excited to continue this series! I feel like having a glimpse of the boys' individual drive and character may help when reading the rest of the fic. (Also of course, to help make the fannies flutterrrr ✨✨) Also, I tried tagging some people but tumblr wouldn't let me? Not sure why. :(

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