So, it's me again, bearing news about my minigame tier on Patreon. Last month you could spar with Niall, the month before that you could visit a bath with Marcus and the Legate, this month... It's all dilf. It's the Legate's month. I don't know what to tell you, he won the poll.

(You'll also receive access to the backlog including all the previous minigames released on that tier.)

when the new tenant first moved next door, you had no intention to meet him.

when you had peaked through the curtains and shades of your window after hearing the unmistakable slam of a moving truck's sliding door and ramp, you had seen the back of a rather muscular man.

from what little you saw of his face when he turned told you it was tattooed like one of his friends that was helping him bring boxes in, solidifying your apprehension.

the following night was rowdy.

the nine of their voices had easily carried into your apartment through the thin walls. they had referred to each other by (what you hoped were) nicknames and shared their continued support of time's new apartment until the latest hours of the night.

it was only when the loudest of them fell asleep that you were able to call it a night.

it's afternoon when you wake up. you have to force yourself to work through what should be your morning routine before any more of the day slipped from you-- you couldn't let your new neighbor and his loud friends ruin it when you'd been so good at staying on top of it.

you're about to make yourself a lazy lunch when there's a heavy-handed knock on your door and you couldn't be more glad to have freshened up as early as you did. no one that you knew in the complex had a knock like that and meeting your new neighbor with morning breath would've been hell.

he's holding a basket filled with flowers, milk from a brand you recognize as lon lon, sweets, an expensive bottle of wine, and a few other cheap housewarming items you buy when you don't know anything about your neighbor.

not only that, but you realize you had grossly underestimated how tall he was. that brief view from the window didn't serve him justice.

he had given you his own up-and-down with his one eye if the way it lingered every time it roamed up was anything to go by.

you're shaken from your thoughts when he says "hey," in a low, raspy voice filled with timbre. you'd say it was gone from the night before if you hadn't heard him speak in that same voice the night before.

"i-- erm.. didn't realize you were in last night, so sorry for the noise."

it's not as though each apartment had a specific parking space and you were the only one he shared a wall with, so you'd give him that.

he brings your attention back down to the basket he held when he holds it out to you. "i just moved in yesterday, so i'm sorry if i make a lot of noise because of unpacking and whatnot."

"you're fine," and you can't figure out whether or not you meant that you forgive him or because he was an attractive man. "a heads up would be nice, though."

the man hums in acknowledgment, watching as you retreat a few steps into your apartment to place the basket on a nearby counter. "i'll keep that in mind."

when you turn back to face him, he looks like a lost puppy standing at the door.

he shifted his weight ever so slightly on his legs to the point it would almost be unnoticeable if you weren't actively paying attention. he had his arms behind his back, but you could tell he was fiddling with something behind him by the way the muscles of his arms flexed and relaxed.

the lack of sleeves on his fitted t-shirt did him no favors in revealing the movements.

"did you want to come in?" you don't know what prompted you to ask. either his pretty face, or nervous body language? it was both, more than likely. "i was just making myself something to eat."

(you don't know where you got the energy to make something bigger than a sandwich and a few fruits, but it was there now. it'd be a waste not to use it.)

you're almost self-conscious of your apartment when he steps in and closes the door behind him. the way his eye looked over every piece of furniture and the various trinkets that littered the shelves would've made you run away if it weren't your home.

he's quicker to notice you watching him when he's a few steps away from you. "i like it," he voices with a vague gesture, "it's nice. it's very-- uhm.. unique, in a good way."

you don't bother prying a better answer out of him. it'd be painful for you both.

"are you allergic to anything?"

"no," he's quick to respond, glad to have the topic change. "i don't have any preferences either. i'll eat anything."

"even poison?"

his tongue shoots around in his mouth. he looks like he wants to say something, but he instead settles on "maybe," with a playful expression.

(you think a root of hope takes place within you.)

conversation comes easily after that. he tells you about his work on the same farm he got the (shockingly high quality) milk from and a few things about his group of friends (who called themselves the chain, funnily enough) from the night before, additionally mentioning how they were all significantly younger than him and how one of them-- the other one with face tattoos-- was his son.

"what's your name again?"

he looks up from the plate of food you had long since placed in front of him, brows raised when he realizes that neither of you had, in fact, exchanged names.

"the others call me time." he huffs out a laugh when he sees your brow raise. "like father time because i'm so old. my name is link."

"the others..?"

"they're link as well."

"and so you, in good conscience, made your son a junior?"

"in my defense, i didn't realize he would make so many friends with the same name."

"which should i call you then?"

"whichever you like more," he hums. "just know it might be confusing around the others depending on which."

when he gives a belly laugh at your response of "how fun, sir," you couldn't help but be thankful that he and his wife separated.

MMMMMMM GOOD SOUP—

I love the idea of reader slowly being introduced to the other boys, either they run into eachother in the hall/street OR Time brings them to visit when thr pair becomes closer!!

Also love the thought of Time just taking but the majority of a door frame?? Its so funny to think of him shrinking in on himself as he tries to waddle his into his/others houses.

THE ‘YOURE FINE’ BIT??? ME TOO HONESTLY—

OMG WAIT BEFORE SLEEP