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andypantsx3 · 10 months

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all in a day's quirk | sero hanta

pairing: Sero Hanta / Fem Reader

length: 5.3k

summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!”

tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters

It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.

Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.

Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.

“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”

She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.

You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.

Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.

You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”

Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.

“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”

Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”

You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.

“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”

“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.

Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.

As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.

And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.

He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.

So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.

It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.

But it was cool.

You knew how to play it cool.

Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.

And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.

You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.

He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.

“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”

Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.

“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”

You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.

His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.

Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”

Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.

You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”

Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.

Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”

He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.

“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.

Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”

“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”

Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”

You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”

Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.

He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”

Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”

You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”

His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”

Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”

Mari nodded dumbly.

You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.

It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.

You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.

“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”

You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.

You did not need to know.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”

Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”

You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”

You did. You did need to be so underhanded.

Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.

You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”

She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.

Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”

The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”

“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”

Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”

You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”

The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.

She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.

Finally, the device in the medic’s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”

You blinked, mystified. A what?

Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.

The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”

Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.

No.

Oh fuck no.

If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…

That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—

“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”

You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.

How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.

And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?

And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.

You could die of mortification.

You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.

God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?

But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.

Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”

The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.

You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”

Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.

“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.

You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.

You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.

Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.

His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.

“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”

“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.

To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.

“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”

Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.

“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”

Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.

“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.

You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”

Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.

But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”

You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”

Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”

Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.

“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.

Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.

A shiver prickled up your spine.

“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”

Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”

It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”

Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.

It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.

A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.

Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.

“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.

“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.

“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.

You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.

Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.

“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.

His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”

The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.

You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.

“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.

Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.

“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.

He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.

Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.

Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.

You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.

“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”

He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.

It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.

You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.

He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.

“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”

You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.

“Hanta—I’m going to—!”

“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.

“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.

“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.

He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”

You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”

His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.

You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”

“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.

“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”

Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.

He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”

#sero x you #sero x reader #sero x y/n #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero x you #bnha x reader #sero smut

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jjungxkook · 6 months

Text

blackout (halloween drabble) | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: est rel, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: really just the tiniest hint of angst, but otherwise just crack and fluff I think, spooky szn, he's the Joker and she's Harley Quinn, lame college party, the gang is there, forest stuff, reader is a bit sad and disappointed in jk but he redeems himself!, kissing, sexy times, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, jerking off, fingering, sex in a janitor's closet haha, ass love, and yeah!!

⇥ wc: 5.4k!

⇥ author’s notes: happy early halloween! I will be busy next week, so I thought I could post this one already. also, since it's been one! damn!! year!!! since I dropped anything at all (sry!!). I promise Encore is on its way, so enjoy this in the meantime. very unedited and I started it just yesterday, so pls no hate haha okay that's it!! love you!!!

⇥ summary: Jungkook and you seek a carefree and calm Halloween this year, until it turns into this… nightmare.

–

Jungkook’s make up is smudged beyond repair… And you strongly guess you aren’t faring any better.

Your costumes are basic to their core. In the past hour alone, you’ve seen half a dozen of you. Jungkook rubs at the eyeshadow above the apple of his cheek, smearing the black some more.

He looks like the Joker at the end of his mental capacity. A worse mess than DC’s character already is. Only, Jungkook is still rocking the look – one damn kink of yours if you had a specific one. It’s the loosened tie… the purple coat–

You feel at home in your own role. Sporting the peroxide blonde hair, tied in two tails, one ending in a faded blue, and the other in a dim pink. You purchased colored hair sprays just for today, but can’t wait to wash the chemicals out of your hair.

Jungkook ruined one of the pigtails approximately an hour ago, and it hasn’t recovered since then, no matter how hard you tried to fix it. In truth, you didn’t mind the tugging at that moment anyway.

How could you? Not with the endorphins pumping through you at lightspeed, enhanced by the darkness around you at that stupid college party.

The student representatives organized this year’s big fete, though they must have forgotten to add the fun factor to it. Because the party was lame: the bar was filled with students from various departments, but most of them remained either sober or wound up broke.

Because the drinks were painfully expensive. The numbers on your bills spooked through your mind when you looked at the price, further frustrated when you realized that they weren’t selling much more than dry, small pizza and flavorless toast.

Once again, for an outrageous price.

Halfway through, the two of you snuck to a bathroom, relying on each other’s company alone. But the toilet cabinets were either taken or unspeakably disgusting – so in the rush, you settled for the pitch dark janitor’s closet instead.

You could barely see his silhouette in there, half sober, but not quite acting like it. Intoxicated by how he suckled on your neck, more a vampire than the Joker. Or by how he probably bruised your thighs, your shorts and tights down to your knees, much like his green pants.

You remember the whispers in the dark. The quiet “Wanna pound you into the mattress” and the “We should really go home.” Accompanied by the way he rubbed his cock against your stomach, body inches from you as his fingers dug into your pussy.

But you wouldn’t make it home yet, because his movements were too rapid to stop. The tears pricking your eyes too prominent. The hand around your neck wouldn’t stop pressing in, and you were firmly fixated on jerking him off to the end.

There was no way you were going to go home yet.

When he kissed you, you could taste both your lipsticks on your tongues. And then, cheek against the wall, ass out as he slammed his thick cock into your tight space, you tasted all the spice and sweetness he could offer.

God, a fucking man starved.

You still feel how his thighs held yours together, and your ass cheeks still burn from the palm and nails scratching, slapping, squeezing the flesh…

You tried your best to fix your make up afterwards, but you looked like modern art in the worst way, eyeliner and mascara dry on your face. The Joker’s cheek scars reach to his ears now. And as you look at him now, you still shiver.

His sweat-soaked mane hasn’t fully dried yet, a bit longer than weeks ago. Gives him that wet-hair look you usually enjoy after his showers. And behind the collar of his dress shirt, you still catch a glimpse of the lipstick print he wanted before you went out.

“Here,” he’d said, pointing to his thick, bare neck, adorned by a vein, “I’ll even open a button of my shirt just for this.”

And you were absolutely ready to mark your territory – it seemed he was just as enthusiastic about it. That is, before you forgot and then rectified your mistake in that bar bathroom. He can flex it now after all…

Anyway. Where were you again?

Right. The purple coat.

There’s something incredibly insane about how he’s draped it over his shoulder, both hands in the pockets of his pants. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his arms veiny and strong. A full lower lip is light red now; your make out session made the bright red fade.

And the goddamn black around his eyes… he could throw the mildest statement at you, and you’d probably still be intimidated.

Could almost distract you from why you refused to give that neck kiss in the first place. Or why you were veiling your true mood.

“What are we gonna do now?” Jungkook asks, nudging your elbow.

“What do you mean? You’re not tired?”

But you understand the idiocy of your question the moment it tumbles out – you’re asking the wrong man. This guy, you have well noticed, does not sleep until late in the night. And a healthy sleep schedule becomes even more of a foreign concept on holidays.

So you’re not surprised when he blows a raspberry and almost mockingly responds, “It’s not even midnight.”

“That’s late, Jungkook,” you still try.

“Not on Halloween.” Yeah. Just what you thought. “Besides, we need to wait for the witching hour. Wanna see the ghosts come out and whatnot.”

You laugh, the scolding hidden behind the smile. “Kook…”

“We could play Uno again!” He suggests, but you instantly scrunch up your nose. Most of the time, he wins – it’s probably why he enjoys it so much. But his next idea is worse. “Or Until Dawn.”

“No way,” you shoot. “You know what’s gonna happen, right?”

Judging the conniving smirk, more daunting with the eerie make up on, you guess he knows very well. He must remember last Halloween as well as you do.

Back when you let him convince you into watching Silent Hill with him, you were already at the edge, but – the sudden knocks at your door and impatient ringing of your bell didn’t help.

You jumped in place, accidentally kicking his shin and nearly knocking over the popcorn. You shed an immediate tear, convinced your heart was going to give out. Jungkook, between the cries of ache, was chuckling, and soon holding your head to his heart.

The cursing against his chest is cemented in your mind; you remember that he turned the movie off for you and switched to something tamer on Disney+.

“We’re together now, Pumpkin,” he tries to argue. “I’ll kiss your fears away.”

You’ll admit, you like the tone of it. It hasn’t been very long, so any term concerning your togetherness covers your skin in chills. And considering how it’s Halloween, the nickname gains just a bit more warmth, too.

But you stay resolute, dodging his constant nudging as you repeat, “No way!”

Your words stop Jungkook in his tracks. The laugh disappears and even his eyes change. Maybe you came off too strong, because behind the mask of the Joker, he looks insecure and taken aback.

“Are you… Okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

You pull down the crop top under your open jacket, clearing your throat when the movement forces his eyes to your chest, right where the shirt stretches over your tits. Folding your arms in front of your torso, you raise your chin in the confidence that’s barely there.

You lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You’re acting like you were before we left. Then you were okay at the party.” He points into a random direction, presumably the one you came from. You don’t know how many turns you took since then, but you’re near the woods now. “Now you’re not anymore again.”

“I’m fine!”

Oops. Too strong again. Maybe the built up frustration and disappointment aren’t gone after all. You thought the evening might change something – apparently not.

Once again, he asks, “Are you sure?”

You stay silent. Look away, haphazardly across the street. The street lamps illuminate the dark path, covered in leaves, surrounded by trees. Has a real Halloween feel to it.

You watch ghosts stroll past you. Some of the students on campus still carry a young, tender spirit, cutting holes in thin blankets to drape them over their bodies. It makes you smile.

But then you look back at Jungkook and immediately wish you had a cloth hiding your true emotions, too. Because when his eyes pierce those dejected holes into your body, you finally cave in.

“You… you know that I was top of my class, right?” You avert your stare, but then decide to focus on his chin instead. “Mr Kim liked my paper so much that he even offered that I join his research? And he’s like, very cherished in the Sociology community?”

Aside from the wind, nature and the world go quiet for a second, just when you do, but then you say, “So it’s a huge opportuni–”

“I know… You told me.”

Oh. So he remembers.

“So I told you,” your voice is quieter now, “and you just… didn’t seem to care? You haven’t spoken about it or asked even once. Not even what the research is on.”

Like a parrot, he repeats, “I know. I… I got busy with my own exams and…”

He stops midway and you wait. Maybe there’s more to come… Or maybe not. He doesn’t budge. You feel your heart drop… You assumed he had forgotten or that you might’ve hallucinated telling him about it.

But the fact that he remembers, yet doesn’t have it in him to care hurts.

You swallow hard and then sigh, unable to say much more than you already have. He, yet again, purls, “I’m sorry.”

How shitty.

You’ve always helped him with his assignment, each time he needed any aid. He reciprocated it, no doubt, but. Now that you think about it, he distanced himself the moment you got this news and forwarded it to him.

You feel horrible. If you physically could, if you weren’t frozen in place, you’d pour out your heart to him. But all you know is that your mood has dropped to the Earth’s core, your mouth barely open when–

A rough tug pulls you away from Jungkook’s body. You stumble, almost tripping over your own feet, and yelp. There’s no way to still catch your bag mid-air, because whatever culprit snatched it off your shoulder, is already running away.

And into the dense forest. Fuck.

You use all your throat’s might to scream your lungs out, screeching at the perpetrator, “What the fuck!!”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells in kind, following right behind you the moment you start to sprint.

The asphalt is easier to tackle than the forest, though. The ground is soft, still a little damp from the rain of the last days. And the white-black-red Harley Quinn boots with their thick heels do not help.

You chase the figure – he’s tall, a bit too fast for you. Wearing a mask that you’re sure was… green?

You swear and pant when he picks up on pace, and throw more insults into his direction when he takes a sharp, sudden right. Jungkook jogs past you when you look over your shoulder for him, instructing quickly, “I’ll trap him from the left!”

And then, he’s gone. No. What?

“No, I– you can’t leave me alone!” Nothing comes back. Shit, your boyfriend wants you dead. “Fuck.”

With a shake of your head and a deep inhale of a breath, you move. Perhaps you’re too late, because by now, you don’t hear any steps anymore. You don’t know how far behind that thief left you, but as you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere, you halt.

You can’t see anyone anymore. Not the guy. Not Jungkook.

And it’s so uncannily quiet. Dark. The leaves rustle, but only when the breeze blows through them. You search the spot, but there’s truly nobody and nothing; not even a goddamn squirrel.

You call for Jungkook, but don’t receive an answer back.

Where did he go? Did he catch the jerk? It must’ve been a Shrek mask. Of all fucking things. And why do they always run into a forest anyway?

No matter. At least you’ll be able to describe him to the police.

You suck in a breath, leaning down, hands over your knees. Out of air, you groan as your lungs burn. But then you get up, swallowing and sniffling, scared as you whisper to yourself, “The phone…”

You fish it out of your shorts – Hallelujah to whoever created this costume, because they’re a whole lot better than the pocketless jeans in your closet. If you’d put the device in your bag, you’d be screwed properly.

Activating the flashlight, you turn in a slow circle. In the silence, only broken by grasshoppers and other chirping animals, you hear your heart pounding in your ears. A shaking hand holds your phone as you look around.

And right when you’re already through the 360 turn–

Fingers wrap around the hand clutching the phone, definitely not yours. There’s a call of your name, but you barely take the voice in, flinching and screaming in place. Has your voice ever sounded this high pitched?

Ready to throw your phone at him and roundhouse kick the stranger, you lift a leg, but he immediately grabs your wrist in a familiar gesture. Turns the light to his face, squinting at its intensity, and eventually, you realize that…

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spit.

“I was looking for you!” Jungkook answers, lowering the phone. “I didn’t find him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t either! But fuck, why…” You still can’t breathe properly. A hand moves to your chest. “Why did you scare me so much, I–”

Your limbs are trembling, knees attempting to force you down to the ground. But you hold yourself steady, anger growing bloody red inside you. It bubbles and simmers, and when he doesn’t respond, you almost snarl.

You push at his chest, eyes damp. You want to throw more shit at him, even though he’s not at fault – and once you realize, you calm down just a little. The forest is still around you, and you’re still not out of it by far.

Yet, you feel at ease. Because he’s here. Because he’s standing there, in the middle of the night, at fucking Halloween where you could run into any insane axe murderer.

But when you understand where the comfort is coming from, your heart slows down, still beating in your stomach, but at a more normal pace now.

“Fuck,” you whisper once again, and then stumble forward and into his arms.

He cradles you with the fragility of a glass doll. But the squeezes he provides offer warmth your chilled soul craves on this autumn night. Hushed, you hear him speak, “Baby, I…”

His words drip with hesitation and… guilt even. Wrong timing; you can’t dwell on the uncertainty now. Still sniffling, quivering, you press against his chest again. Softer this time, yet unyielding, you demand, “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No–”

“Honestly, I should’ve just… Congratulated you.”

Wrong timing indeed. He’s agonizing over something that you aren’t bothered with. Not right now, at least. But you heard it so clearly in the timbre of his voice – that he didn’t mean the jump scare. You let him continue.

“I worked so hard on my stuff, too, and then got jealous. Which is absolutely not a good boyfriend treat to have.”

“Kook–”

There’s turmoil in his words. Ugh, what’s going on?

“I’m genuinely thrilled for you. And I–”

There’s an entire conversation to have, you’re sure. But the timing. The fucking timing!

He wants to unveil more, but then something happens. A flicker in your peripheral vision alerts you of a movement, and when you turn your head, you see the same mysterious figure lurking in the shadows.

God, he’s insane. Your guts twist.

Was he eavesdropping all along, or was he simply hiding, trying to remain invisible, inexplicably unwilling to flee? Why did he not run before? This is odd. So chillingly odd.

Or maybe he was still nearby and trying not to make a sound…

You don’t know. And time is not a luxury you can’t afford for pondering such enigmas right now.

New adrenaline surges through you, different this time. The fear is clear, but the guy seems pathetic to a certain level – and if he’s so keen on roaming around, you’ll make sure he stays right in your proximity.

So you listen to the hammering of your heart, and without a second thought, you dash towards the stranger who appears equally startled and disoriented. You feel like a charging bull, closing the distance at an astonishing pace.

That’s what they probably mean when they speak about mothers being able to lift cars for their kids, because you feel invincible. Your shoes may not be designed for such a pursuit, and you’re certainly not as hardcore as Harley Quinn, but they lose against your determination.

The trees blur around you as you relentlessly chase the intruder, only clearing in your vision when you finally catch up with him. Jungkook might be behind you, but you choose not to look behind you this time.

Instead, you yell a battle cry, growling through your teeth, “Don’t you fucking–”

But that’s all before you tackle him to the ground. You expect a fight, expect his slim limbs to fling around, but he barely moves. He lets you push him onto the fallen leaves, and the only glimpse of any sound by him that you catch is a weird voice crack.

“Fu–” Is all you notice, but you can’t analyze the voice before Jungkook is helping you up again.

You protest, but still get to your feet, watching Jungkook pull the man up harshly. He says to you, “You caught him.”

“Guess so.”

You take another breath, jaw clenched when you move to the stumbling thief and attempt to take the mask off. Shrek, as you said. You can’t quite say whether that night is terrifying or absurd. Probably both.

But the guy fights your try, suddenly mute again, but not resisting when Jungkook pulls at his arm and starts leading him somewhere. What?

“Where are you going?” You ask, confusion sitting in the valley between your eyebrows. “Let’s go back and call the police, Jungkook.”

“There’s gotta be an opening. Keep going, I just need light to see his face.”

“I have a phone. Jungkook, sto–”

Seems like a very risky moment to ignore you, but Jungkook moves forward with determination. But it’s strange how he isn’t looking around. Never searching his surroundings, as if he already has a certain target in mind.

Now, you’ll admit that his sense of direction is unerring on any other day, too, but this is…

“I swear, you’re gonna kill us both,” you hiss, reflexively lowering your voice in the darkness. The masked mugger is grunting too much to hear you anyway, but you guess that affects Jungkook’s senses, too.

He just won’t stop. At least, until you reach a tiny clearing.

You don’t know how deep in the forest you are, because you can’t see the moon from here. The stars are the mere source of light here, albeit barely enough to illuminate the other bodies standing on the opposite side of the dimly lit space.

Wait. More people? Here?

What the hell.

Their faces, obscured by shadows, are unmoving. You ready yourself for an apology – maybe you interrupted some weird get-together. A shady ritual executed by some secret college club.

But as you strain to discern their features, a gradual realization dawns upon you. One of them steps forward, his features partially hidden, and one or two other familiar friends from your classes occupy the periphery.

It’s Jin. Also Jimin – a guy you and Jungkook met during one of your study sessions. Taehyung introduced him to your group. And the pursuit takes on an even more bewildering turn when you look at Jungkook and see that he’s no longer clutching the robber.

The man is standing there in silence, massaging the back of his head. Seemingly unperturbed. Perplexed and still out of breath, you utter, “What in the world?”

You shake your head, eyes deeply furrowed. You close the distance between you and the confusing figure, snatch your bag from him and finally shed the mask that conceals his identity.

And then, you see it. The unexpected face behind the bizarre charade.

“Taehyung?” You exclaim.

Jungkook, having caught his breath faster than you, mimics your incredulous tone, “Taehyung, what the hell?”

Oh. So he’s just as confused. The man in question glances over to his friend, his expression one of sheer frustration as he grumbles another very puzzling statement.

“Jeon, I will kill you.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters back.

Or… not? Huh?

You’re speechless. Out of movements and words, you keep your feet planted on your spot, blinking as you wait for someone to explain. But they’re not even looking at you, so you seek clear clarification.

“What’s going on here?” You ask.

Jungkook’s half-smile agitates you more than it should. Why the heck is he smiling?! But you breathe in through the nose, hoping for the forest’s scent to calm your nerves.

“Well,” he admits, “I guess I owe him one. ‘Cuz you were not supposed to tackle him.”

“Right!” Taehyung concurs.

“And you were not supposed to disappear!” Jungkook chimes in, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. His voice is tinged with reproach. “You…”

“Guys,” you interject. What the fuck.

Jungkook sighs, full attention on you. You try your hardest to not look at the creepy crowd to your left, friends and acquaintances standing there as if they’re about to sacrifice you to a demon.

“He was supposed to lead you here, but somehow we didn’t manage to pull it through,” Jungkook says.

His words leave you pondering. You have not the darndest clue about what’s going on. So you ask, “We?”

��Your…” The assembled group draws near, a few of your friends holding various items. “Your paper.”

Huh…

They’re carrying indiscernible things. And a pie, and…

“Of course I remembered your paper, baby,” Jungkook declares.

Oh, wait. Is that what you think it is? Because if it is, then your instincts were entirely wrong today. Or the entire time since you received the news. Maybe you were just so out of your mind because of the general Halloween atmosphere?

What were you expecting… An axe murderer for real? Dammit…

No. It was much more obvious, yet impossible to figure out. This man. This man!

A wave of relief washes over you as you process his words. You think that now, you even understand what they’re all holding. Or what it’s for…

“So you weren’t…” You start.

You drift off, watching Jungkook shake his head. His response is heartfelt, his love and pride evident. He looks at you with infinite sweetness; but a lot of guilt, too.

“Jealous?” He finishes. “I’d be crazy to be. You’re part of me.”

His blinking is soft and the tongue licking his red lips shiny in the extremely faint starlight. You know he isn’t done yet, so you wait… Focus on the tingle on your skin.

“You are part of me,” he says again, “so I’ll celebrate any achievement of yours like it’s mine. And this was… is a huge fucking thing to happen for you.”

You feel your head tilt and the muscles in your face relax. Your lips move to a smile, parted to give way to the longest sigh known to humankind. But if you indulged in the cheesy interaction now, your friends would remind you of it every game night.

Which is why you get yourself together, postponing the screeching and second tackling to later when you’re alone again. You shake off some of the weakness he causes every day, and give into the urge to nudge teasingly.

“You’re such a jerk for scaring me like that.”

A playful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, as typical as can be. “I needed to make it Halloween-themed, Pumpkin. I’m sorry, but you know I had to.”

Your initial scolding turns into a loving retort, “I hate you.”

But the banter is short-lived as you lose against the surge of emotions, your hand moving to push him lightly once again before immediately lifting to his collar. You capture it, pulling him close to you until his wide eyes close and your lips collide.

In the background, you hear an instant chorus of “Aww”s, but grunts, too. Among the cooing, you hear a mumbled speech about how you need to get a room, but you only react with a smile against his mouth. You kiss him deeper, tongues gently intermingling.

And just when the hand holding the back of your head slips to your lower back, pressing you into him, the shiver becomes unbearable. Emotions shoot through your body and down between your legs – so you stop.

For a couple seconds longer, you look at whatever you can see from his eyes in the dark, flashing a smile. He rounds his lips and releases air through them, a temptingly silent way to let you know that you affected him.

You ignore it for your mentality’s sake, moving away from him to look at your friends. You cough and gesture to the objects in their hands, asking, “What’s all this about?”

If you could see them, you’d probably see a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. Jin at least sounds like it as he beckons you closer with a nod, ready to reveal whatever they’ve orchestrated for you.

You already expected the answer to your question, but the wrapping confirms your assumption. Gifts. Quite a few of them, bigger and smaller. As you move from one to the other, they announce the objects before you’re able to rip the paper off.

A friend gifts you a Swarovski Crystalline pen for your “Super fancy notes as you do your super fancy research.” Reflects their support for your scholarly pursuits, you guess.

Jimin surprises you with an exclusive album by your favourite group. Then, a little plushie to destress whenever you need, along with a college survival guide and “Sociology for Dummies” – all by Jin. Of course.

And lastly, a Lord of the Rings Lego set that you’ve desired for super long, a group effort. It’s a labor of love, for sure. A collective endeavor by friends who united to make your dreams come true – but honestly, who scared you to death, too.

You don’t know how you make it out of the forest again, still reprimanding Taehyung and Jungkook on your way out. Granted, you did get lost as a group once, and then found your beloved streetlamps again ten minutes later.

The treasures secured in a bag, Jungkook places them on your couch with a long and deep sigh once you arrive home, calming down from today’s hours. The night seemed endless. Wouldn’t finish – and you’re exhausted beyond measure.

But even through your falling eyelids, you manage one more expressive glance, pure disbelief hiding in your gaze as you say, “I absolutely didn’t expect any of this.”

Jungkook is a true mirror to you. Equally worn out, he lets his head fall a little, one hand still in the pocket of his pants. He looks ridiculously attractive, fatigue or not. Curls of his longer hair hang in his eyes as he rubs them, the smile gentle despite the sinister make up.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, voice low and quiet. “To be honest, I kinda felt bad halfway through.”

Ah. Explains the guilty eyes and voice. The way he attempted to apologize and grew all shy and quiet before you threw Taehyung to the ground.

“Don’t. The plan almost worked, and my heartbeat is still intact.” You laugh, punching his arm lightly. “But… Don’t do shit like that again next year.”

“I can’t promise it. You know that.”

You roll your eyes, watching him try to walk away – and you might not have held him back and grasped the dress shirt at the elbow if…

Is that the window creaking?

You gasp, still more on the edge than you expected, and throw a peek over your shoulder. You moved a couple weeks ago – there’s no way your place is already making these sounds. Or maybe that’s the reason after all… You should get to renovating.

“Was that you, too?” You ask, leaning into him with a cocked eyebrow.

“It was not. How would I do that?” He promises. His words are accompanied by movements; he’s walking around the living room now, as if he’s looking for something. “I’m not a ghost. Just the Joker.”

“A sly one, though…”

You look to the window again as he crams around in the box under your table, and appropriate to the holiday, you detect a harmless raven, perched on the windowsill. The sight elicits a small chuckle – but you don’t hear a sound from Jungkook.

When you turn back to him, you understand why. He’s distracted, still crouching. Then he gets up with… An object in his hand. No, two. Not any you carried home just now, but much smaller, thinner. Paper?

Idly, he walks back to you, fingers adorned in tattooed letters holding two cards toward you. You look into his eyes, confused and seeking answers silently, but he only holds the objects closer to you, urging you to take them.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Read, and you’ll know.”

And when you oblige, you understand. Maybe the little celebration on the clearing didn’t quite end there. Because the inscription on the cards reveals that he put more thought into this than you knew.

The tiny party and group effort Lego set weren’t his only tokens of affection. The weekend getaway, resting in your hands and awaiting you next week, must be tonight’s finale. A prelude to the impending wave of tedious work.

“As an escape. Even for just a moment,” Jungkook explains, reaching forward. His hand settles on your cheek and pulls your face up, meeting your eyes. “Just you and me.”

To bask in serenity and rejuvenation, is that it? Just you and him…

“Really?” You wonder, eyes knitted together, lips pouting. You’re drowning in fondness.

“I wanna give you all the relaxation you need, in any way. Big things ahead after that.”

“I’m… You didn’t ha–”

You only get this far, because his lips steal your breath and halt your speech midway. His hand cradles your face, the other arm slinging around your body. The grip holds you tight against him, the heels of your feet almost lifting off the floor.

The kiss won’t stop. Continues deeper. You’re careful to not crumple and crease the cards he gave you, but still wrap your arms around his neck, pushing harder into him. And the tongue… Fuck, this tongue…

When he moves back reluctantly to catch air, he’s panting; and your breath falls against his cheeks just as hot. Your lips are damp, craving more, and you draw closer, trying to feel all of him. The muscles, the embrace, the growing pleasure behind his pants and…

But he lets go, leaves you standing and dizzy. With a wink, he lightly pinches your cheek, thumb brushing against it and suggests, “I’ll head off to freshen up.”

But. No.

You’re not ready to let the moment slip away, no matter how tired you are. So you pull him back again, a playful twinkle in your eyes as you quietly utter a request.

“Don’t take it off just yet.” You say, seeing the way his eyes light up. He understands right away. “Clean up together?”

He smiles. Waits with his answer, busy gripping your wrist as gently as he can before he locks his fingers with yours. He starts pulling you into the direction of the bathroom at snail's pace, reaching to hold both your hands, walking backwards, and causes one last hour-long shiver for the night.

“I really do love every time we save up on water, you know?”

–

Let me know what you think!! Have a good Halloween, love you all and smooching you!!😘

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook oneshot #bts imagine #bts fic #jeongguk smut #jungkook

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vaspider · 5 months

Note

My question about the AIDS crisis, I'm mostly asking you because like I said, I don't think I was googling the right things, so even if you could just suggest some things to google that would be more likely to get me answers, that would be really helpful.

I guess it's mostly how did AIDS (and to some extent, any STD) become so widespread? I know that it spread through sexual contact and shared blood, but can you really "six degrees of separation" (god, that sounds so flippant, but i genuinely can't think how else to describe it) a chain of sexual partners and shared needles through any two people with HIV in the entire world? Maybe it's just because I'm a bit of a hermit, but while I can understand how it was so devastating once it was already widespread, I guess I'm having trouble understanding how it got such a foothold in the first place. If the first person with HIV had happened to not have a lot of sex would the AIDS crisis never have happened?

I swear I have absolutely no judgement for people that like to have a lot of sex, maybe I just have an underestimate of the amount of sex the average person has because frankly I don't have any? So I hope this doesn't sound disrespectful or anything, it's just kind of hard for me to believe those "six degrees of separation" kind of things in general when it's not like, famous people, so the realization that theoretically any two people with the same STD, on different parts of the globe, would have this string of sexual partners connecting them almost feels like there has to be something I'm missing... But when I'm googling things like "how did HIV become so widespread" and "how do STDs spread" I'm just getting things about how you should use protection and histories of *where* HIV spread rather than answering this more specific question (probably didn't help I was trying to do this research at 1am)

I mean this as kindly as possible:

What is your proposed alternate theory as to the spread of a disease which is transmitted through contact with blood, semen (and pre-seminal fluid), rectal and vaginal fluids, and breast milk? The disease does not spread through saliva or through touch which does not involve those fluids.

There are relatively rare cases of HIV spread through accidental needle sticks - according to WebMD, there are approximately 385k accidental needle sticks among health care workers per year in the US. WHO says that .7% of the global population has HIV, so for some back-of-the-napkin math, at most, you'll have about 2,700 of those needle sticks involving someone with HIV. Since (again, according to that WebMD article on accidental needle sticks), in cases of an accidental needle stick where the patient has HIV, the health care worker only has about a 1 in 300 chance of catching it (as opposed to 1 in 3 for an unvaccinated person catching hepatitis B via accidental needle stick from an infected patient). So - nationwide - you have approximately 9 people per year catching HIV from a needle stick.

And, to be clear, that fucking sucks. However, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, in 2022 there were approximately 14.7 million health care workers in the US. Not all of these people have equal risk for accidental needle sticks, but there's only so much research I'm gonna do for rough math to answer an ask on Tumblr.

The average US health care worker has approximately - again, based on my back-of-the-napkin math - 0.00000544% chance of contracting HIV from an accidental needle stick. It's astronomically more likely that a random health care worker will die from tripping over an extension cord or breathing in a caustic chemical than that they will catch HIV.

The chances of getting HIV via blood transfusion before we started routinely testing for it were all but assured if you got blood from someone with HIV. Testing now is so stringent that you have about a one in two million chance of getting HIV from a transfusion. The last recorded case I could find was in 2010, and before that, it was 2002, and the 2010 case happened in part because the donor lied about his risk profile and often participated in anonymous and unprotected sex with partners of multiple genders. He really shouldn't have been accepted as a donor at all. Approximately 4.5 million Americans receive blood transfusions per year, so, like, nowadays, it is excessively unlikely, but even in the 80s, it was an edge case means of infection, not a main source of pandemic spread.

A breastfeeding parent with a detectable viral load has about a 15% chance of transmitting HIV through breast milk. Likewise, HIV can be - and was - transmitted to babies during birth because of contact with vaginal fluid or blood, but, again, these relative edge cases are not the things pandemics are made of.

I want to stress that I am not in any way minimizing the absolute tragedy of the AIDS crisis, and I am not dismissing the fact that these methods of transmission are possible and did cause significant disruption to blood banks, stress for pregnant people with HIV, and so on. They just simply are not major methods of transmission, and never were.

With all of that said... what is your proposed alternate method of transmission, with these facts in hand? What do you think happened? Genuinely, this question is so baffling to me.

I think it's important to understand that before the emergence of HIV, most of the STIs we had were at that point either considered an annoyance (warts, HPV) or were extremely easy to treat and cure (syphilis, once a death sentence, became basically a non-issue for most people in the US as long as they were getting tested relatively frequently, and most other common STIs even today can be cured with a single course or even a single dose of antibiotics).

With that in mind, a lot of people, including a lot of queer people, were having a lot of unprotected sex. For people who could become pregnant, the advent of the pill and access to legal abortion meant that they didn't have to become or stay pregnant if they didn't want to, and for cis gay men, the prevalence of antibiotics meant that the vast majority of STIs were a brief inconvenience at worst.

So allo people did one of the things that allo people (and some ace people!) love to do:

They fucked. A lot. They fucked without fear of much consequence in terms of infection, and because it was much riskier to bring someone home where you could be seen, a lot of gay men cruised, fucking in parks or in literal back alleys or the bathrooms of clubs. They worried about getting arrested or getting caught and having their names in the newspaper much more than they worried about STIs. Sex workers, including trans sex workers, fucked in cars or hotels or... wherever the money was, because survival sec work is ... survival.

So... yeah. What is your proposed alternate theory, here? I am truly baffled at what you think otherwise happened, given a disease with a very narrow route of infection.

#hiv #aids

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ellecdc · 14 days

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heyy Elle, could you please write poly!moonchaser × reader where Remus is hurting physically because of the full moon (either before and after) and reader and James take care of him and comfort him

our sweet moonchaser <333 thanks for your request lovie

please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.

poly!moonchaser x fem!reader who checks in on them after the moon

This was silly; what were you so afraid of?

Okay, perhaps afraid wasn’t the right word, but the way your hands were sweating and your heart was racing (and your thoughts were spiralling) would suggest otherwise.

You had been with Remus and James for about two months before Remus finally shared his secret with you.

You couldn’t deny that you had a hunch - you’d been friends with the boys for a few years now and were aware that Remus has some kind of affliction that caused him issues approximately once a month that James and the other two Marauders seemed to help him with. That, along with the fact that you were very good at astronomy and tracking moon cycles (which was also very useful in Herbology), it didn’t come as a complete surprise when he admitted to you that he was a werewolf.

You were glad he had told you, and though he had given you the chance then to ask him any questions you may have had, you only told him you were glad he trusted you.

Now, though? Now you wished you had asked more questions.

Like what the hell were you supposed to do after full moons now?

Before he had told you, he would fall ill for about three days around the end of the moon cycle, and though you would see James in class the day after, he would scurry back to his room citing that he didn’t want you to get sick and was going to go check in on Remus.

And that had been fine.

Because like you said, you had a hunch.

But now…

Now that you knew, it seemed rude not to check in on him, right?

It would be rude to wait around for your afflicted boyfriend to come and find you after going through relative hell and back, wouldn’t it?

So…you braved yourself to check in on the boys in the infirmary.

Except Madame Pomfrey had informed you that Remus had been allowed to return to his dorm to rest.

And then you nearly lost your nerve again.

Get it together. You scolded yourself. Those boys would likely love a visit.

And even if they weren’t up for a visit, you had brought some chocolate for Rem; perhaps you could leave them with Sirius or Peter.

You crawled through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room to an unusually (and frankly disturbingly) quiet sight.

Sirius was lounging sloppily on the three-seater sofa with a book in his hands as Peter sat on a cushion by the fire playing a game of exploding snap with Marlene.

“Hey Sirius.” You said quietly as you approached the long-haired boy. He looked up at your voice and his surprised expression turned into a salacious one.

“Hello there gorgeous, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Peter snorted, though he never moved his attention from his game. “You’re lucky Prongs and Moony aren’t down here; you’d have been walloped good for hitting on their girl.”

Sirius scoffed in faux derision. “That’s what they get for kicking me out of my own dorm, Wormy.”

You felt your face blanche at the fact that even Sirius wasn’t allowed upstairs. What would make you any different?

Stupid girl.

“Come to see your boys?” Sirius continued, unawares of your inner turmoil.

“Erm,” You started awkwardly, looking down at the silly box of Honeydukes chocolates in your hand. “I just came to drop this off; maybe you can give it to Rem for me?”

Sirius’ teasing expression softened when he looked down at the box you were holding out to him.

“Sorry doll. Like I said, I’ve been banished. You’d have better luck delivering them yourself.”

You tried (and failed) to hide your grimace as you looked towards the stairs to the boys dorm. “I wouldn’t want to bother them.” You admitted shyly.

“You misunderstand, L/N.” Marlene commented. “He’s a bother.” She explained, pointing a manicured finger accusatively as Sirius. “They’d probably cream their pants if you walked in right now.”

“Ew.” You, Peter, and Sirius chorused.

“She’s right though.” Peter agreed, grimacing at Marlene for her rather uncouth comment before turning to look at you. “Pad’s is the only one who was thoroughly banished from the room; I’m only down here because I didn’t feel like third-wheeling.”

“Yeah, I wonder why he was banished.” Marlene muttered sarcastically as she returned to their card game.

“Why were you banished?” You queried, causing Sirius to roll his eyes.

“They accused me of being a menace.” He drawled; the end of his sentence punctuated by a small explosion on the opposite side of the common room which covered a few third year Gryffindor’s in a fluorescent blue powder.

Sirius - gods love him - didn’t even flinch as he held your eye contact “I never said the accusations were unfounded.”

“Go on; check on your lover boys.” Marlene encouraged, shooting you a wink.

You took in a shaky breath and offered them all a smile before making your way upstairs.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you knocked gently on the door alerting the boys to your presence before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

You could make out two forms curled up on Remus’ bed. James’ back was turned towards you as his slightly wider frame curled protectively around Remus’.

James turned to look over his shoulder at the disruption with an expression far more stern than you think you’ve ever seen on him, but it softened astronomically when he realised who had entered.

“Hi there!” He whispered brightly, causing Remus to stir. “I was just about to tell Pads to get fucked; this is a nice surprise.” He said as he extricated himself from Remus’ bed and began to make for you.

“Who is it?” Remus’ voice could be heard muffled through the blankets he was holding over his head.

“It’s your dovey, Moons.” James said as he pulled you into his chest and pressed a kiss into your hair.

Remus sat up - likely too quickly in his current state - to see for himself.

“Hi lovie.” He whispered in awe; as if seeing you was some miraculous feat.

“Hi Rem. I’m sorry to bug you, I just wanted to-”

“No!” Both boys interrupted you, causing James to laugh.

“No, you’re no bother; of course not. Com’ere.” He said as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and opened his arms as an invitation for you.

Not needing to be told twice, you accepted his embrace and he pulled you into his lap.

“I won’t stay long.” You whispered up at him as James joined him beside the bed to look down at you.

“Please do.” He whispered back. He looked okay, if not extremely tired; he didn’t seem to have any new scars from what you could see, and he was clearly in good enough spirits to entertain you.

“He’s likely getting tired of spending time with just me.” James explained solemnly.

“He’s a coddler.”

“Are you really?” You asked James.

James rolled his eyes and shook his head good-naturedly. “Listen, once a month I get to fuss over this sweet man; you best believe I take full advantage.”

You hummed in understanding and looked back at Remus. “You’re always so busy taking care of everyone else; it makes sense you wouldn’t know what to do when someone returns the favour.” You explained, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Is that why you’re here, Angel?” James said as he tickled your neck teasingly. “You here to take care of him?”

You pushed his hand away and handed Remus the box of chocolates. “I was just bringing you chocolate.”

Remus looked as though you had just handed him a key to the city and not a measly box of chocolates.

“Thank you dovey.” He said earnestly as he pressed a gentle yet lingering kiss to your lips.

You broke apart at the sound of James snorting.

“‘Just bringing him chocolate’ she says. You’ll be lucky if you see the outside of this dorm room in the foreseeable future.” He proclaimed as he picked you up bridal style out of Remus’ lap eliciting a squeal from your lips and he fell backwards onto the bed, situating the two of you there as Remus shifted back into the bed and curled himself around you.

“Your new job every month is cuddles from now on, ‘kay?” Remus whispered into your ear as James pulled the blankets up around the three of you. You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh through your nose as you nuzzled further into him.

“Sounds good to me.” You agreed readily, accepting another kiss from James as he settled beside you.

You’d take away Remus’ pain in a heartbeat if you could, but if this was all you could do for him instead, well…there were certainly worse ways to spend your time.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #remus lupin x james potter #moonchaser #poly!moonchaser #poly!moonchaser x you #poly!moonchaser x reader #hurt/comfort #fluff #ellecdc fics

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xas24 · 6 months

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helloo, can you write one for pedri with a shy girlfriend? thank you 🙏🏽

don’t get all shy on me now ~ pedri

summary: a few instances where pedri completely loves how shy and quiet his girlfriend gets around him.

“dios mío, estás tan guapa.” (my god, you look so gorgeous) pedri stated as he looked towards his girlfriend, who stood in front of her mirror checking her outfit. his eyes raked down the pretty, blue sundress she had on and y/n could see him practically drooling through the reflection in the full length mirror.

the blood instantly pooled on the surface of her cheeks, staining her bare skin a rosy tint. she blushed hard under his gaze and the small smile that tugged tightly at her lips caused a grin to form on her boyfriends’.

pedri got up from the bed, where he was mindlessly playing some game on her phone because he refused to download it on his own. it’s more fun on your phone, he’d normally say.

he was already dressed in his own outfit as they were both getting ready to meet up with his family at their house for dinner. y/n stared at his face as he made his way over, his beard still growing out as he couldn’t be bothered to shave it lately.

y/n would never admit to him how much she loved his beard and how handsome she found him with it. never. her words wouldn’t even be able to come out clearly with how shy she gets around him, how his presence just burns her whole body alive with warmth and the inability to stop blushing.

pedri reached her and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist. his bearded chin rested against her bare shoulder and the stubbly feeling of it tickled her skin, making her giggle slightly.

pedris head came to rest against hers as her hands held his arms, encasing her against his body.

“pedriii…” she slightly whined, goosebumps spiking up along her arms at the feel of his thumb rubbing circles on the sides of her hips.

“i don’t wanna leave anymore, let’s stay here.” he mumbled and left a small peck against her shoulder.

it seemed as though she didn’t even need makeup as her cheeks were already bright red. her voice was low as she spoke to him, “no, we need to leave in a few minutes, c’mon.” she stroked his arm.

pedri hummed and turned his head so that his lips were now resting against the side of her face, his mouth hovering over her warm cheek. he started pressing kisses to her flesh and the soft giggle that left her mouth didn’t go unnoticed by him as he smiled against her.

“god, i love that sound.” pedri mumbled and fuck, now her cheeks were hurting from smiling so much.

“pedri..” she breathily whispered. he looked at her reflection in the mirror and the smirk that formed on his rosy lips at the sight of her flustered expression had her knees instantly weak.

“don’t get all shy on me now, querida.”

y/n held eye contact with him in the mirror for approximately five seconds before those big brown eyes were cutting through her whole body and ripping her gaze away from his intense, teasing one.

she slapped his hand away, hating the way he always teased her vulnerability around him. however, the lopsided smile still clung to her lips as she sternly tried to tell him off for his last minute shenanigans . “stop it, come on. your parents are probably waiting.”

•••

pedris hand came to interlock with y/ns as the tv shone its bright light onto them from the front. the pair were seated in pedris living room on a random thursday night, deciding on watching a movie to spend their free time together.

it was still relatively early into their relationship, perhaps only 2-3 months and y/n didn’t deny how shy she still felt around him. every little thing he did for her, said to her, made her body shake with nerves and her cheeks fill with blush.

and this small gesture he just did, gently sliding his fingers between hers on her lap, had her screaming on the inside. his hands were so soft against hers, so warm and smooth. she wanted to move her thumb, to rub against his tender skin but would that be weird? she didn’t know, she hadn’t done all this before.

y/n practically froze on the spot and pedri felt her body stiffen beside his as he looked over at her. when he rubbed his thumb against her thumb, she exhaled the breath she was holding in and relaxed into her seat.

pedri watched the blush rise to her cheeks and her eyes flutter gently as she tenderly tightened her fingers around his hand, signalling to him it was okay and she was comfortable.

y/n turned to look at him to see him already tentatively looking at her, and pedri melted on the spot at the little shy look she gave him - her mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile and her cheeks a bright colour of crimson.

he couldn’t wait to pull more of these pretty, shy smiles out of her.

•••

pedri walked into his girlfriends apartment with her favourite chocolates and a new book in hand. he knew she’d been wanting to read this book for quite a while and so, on his way back from training, he made a quick stop at a random bookstore to see if they had it.

they did, and he coupled it with a big box of her favourite chocolates just to see that extra wide smile on her face and twinkle in her eyes. to see that deep tint of blush on her soft, supple cheeks.

the sound of dishes clattering around in the kitchen could be heard when he walked in and so he made his way over with a mischievous smile lurking on his lips. y/n was stood at the stove infront of a pot of boiling water, with her phone in hand.

pedri, with the surprises clamped behind his back, snuck up on his girlfriend. he did a little jog towards her and pressed his lips to her cheek in a quick kiss.

y/n smiled. she knew he was back as she heard the door open. she recognised his footsteps against the flooring.

“oh, pedri you scared me.” she told him, a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice as her eyes stayed glued to her phone but the smile stayed on her lips.

“i was going for a more realistic reaction but that’ll do.” he laid another kiss to her cheek before leaning back up to his normal height, towering over her by a few inches.

y/n locked her phone and looked up at her boy. he was freshly showered, smelt like his usual handsomeness and she instantly noticed his two hands, that would usually be engulfing her body and wandering in random places at this time of day, were currently stuck behind his back.

“what’re you hiding?” she raised her brows.

“i have a little surprise. close your eyes.” he snickered and her look of curiosity turned to one of confusion. with a huff and without question, she closed her eyes and pedri revealed his two little presents with a grin on his face.

“vale, open.”

she gasped as her eyes instantly set onto the cover of that book that lay somewhere deep within her amazon cart, but she’d been wanting to read it for so long now. excitement rapidly settled into her stomach but her heart rate practically zoomed through her chest when she saw the box of her favourite chocolates in his hands.

the blush couldn’t stop itself from painting her flesh and she gaped up at him.

“pedri!” she reached for them and admired them whilst he admired her, satisfied with her reaction this time.

he watched as she placed them both down on the counter next to her and threw her arms around his taller frame. her lips instantly attacked his in a sudden kiss but he didn’t mind as he slotted his lips against hers and she kissed her gratitude into him. she laid quick pecks against his mouth and cheek before staring at him in extreme infatuation. she adored this man so fucking much.

“you didn’t have to.” he loved this heavenly expression on her features; her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, her lips pulled into her usual shy smile.

“i wanted to.”

•••

“c’mon a big smile!” pedri practically cheered as he held the phone out in front of him. y/n stood infront of the floral pattern of the wall behind her as pedri insisted he take some pictures.

memories, he said. memories of how good you look right now.

y/n started blushing with the looks they were getting from some people walking past. some weird and some smiling. her hand came up to cover her face as the low laughter shook from her body at the sight of pedri so focused on the pictures yet so unfocused on the people around them.

pedri smiled to himself, staring at his beautiful girlfriend through the lens of the camera. the light was displaying itself in just the right angles and everything looked so perfect, even his camera skills may he add. however, it still did her beauty no justice, he had to admit.

he couldn’t wait to just sit in his bed later that evening to stare at these pictures - she just looked so ethereal right now.

the fondness that took over y/ns body presents itself on her face as she shyly smiled at the camera, tilting her head as pedri kept snapping some pictures. just when she thought that was enough and started walking back towards pedri, he shook his head and signalled her to step back so he could get a few more shots.

“pedri, i’m sure that’s enough for you to stare at.” she joked, as if she just knew he was falling even more in love with her right now.

“no it’s not, please, just a few more.” she pouted and practically pleaded with her eyes for them to stop because she couldn’t handle how out of her comfort zone this felt, infront of so many prying eyes.

but the desperate look on her boys face made her stand back and pose with a smile on her face for a few more seconds. pedri was then beckoning her over to look through them. she swiped through them with low giggles, knowing how seriously he was taking this, and it made her heart leap.

“so gorgeous.” pedri stared at her, loving the flustered look on her face at his compliment.

“you look amazing, amor. mi preciosa.” he tucked some of her hair back behind her ear.

in that moment, he made a mental note to take more picutes of her often just so he could see this sweet, shy look on her face again.

#pedri #barça #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #imagine #pedri imagine #pedri barça #fc barcelona

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hwaightme · 4 months

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🩺 pairing: paediatrician!bf!seonghwa x neurosurgeon!gn!reader 🩺 genre: fluff, doctor au, established long-term relationship, festive fic 🩺 summary: in the early hours of a shared night shift right before christmas, the present turns into a gift, and seonghwa can't be happier and more in love 🩺 wordcount: 7.8k total 🩺 warnings/tags: slightly edited, the fluff is strong, simpery is real, two doctors with heart eyes, marriage, proposals, family, hwa is yearing, woo cameo, woo+hwa banter, yeo+yunho mention, mom+kid side ocs, needles/syringes, injections, hospitals, night shifts, unconventional marshmallow toasting, a lot of love and sharing life <3 🩺 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩺 a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas~ the idea for this was in the drafts for ages, reignited hardcore by @starrysvn(...the cameos hehet), and it feels right for the festive season~ much love! comments, reblogs, notes all appreciated

Clean and comforting. The poster-room of an office, personalised, and yet retaining all the professional qualities necessary. The gentle swaying of the tulle that transformed the twinkling of a myriad of skyscrapers outside and a magnificent deep navy and inky black star-filled sky into a soothing haze, the ticking of a clock adorned with illustrations from the doctor’s favourite franchise. There was a unity even in the multicoloured shelves and cupboards. Stickers, kindly left behind by particularly pleased, proud and excited patients turned into permanent decorations on the sides of the otherwise strictly uniform desk, bringing relief and encouragement to its occupant. The newest additions - a small desk Christmas tree that was decorated on theme with the rest of the space, and a couple of garlands elegantly hung on the top cupboards and above the tulle served as reminders that it was, in fact, the festive season, and celebrations were only a day away. Even so, healthcare could not take a holiday, and the hospital was busier than ever.

“Hey… do you like… Lego?”

It had been long enough since the beginning of the appointment, as Doctor Park Seonghwa had noted, but the little patient sitting in front of him was still refusing to succumb to the wrath of a ‘spooky scary needle that makes him go ouchy’. Seonghwa could not blame the boy though - if there was something he never did, it was to project a child’s behaviour outwards into adult societal expectations. As a matter of fact, he rarely did that for adults too. He never saw the point, nor did he wish to impose some alternative spin on reality onto anyone who he had the pleasure of meeting, especially his patients or their relatives. As L/N Junseo crossed his arms in disapproval, Seonghwa could not help but spin a tiny fraction on his stool that he used during appointments such as this, and sneak another piece of sporadic scrutiny towards the mother. As he had assumed, there was little comfort to be offered from her side - she was sitting in a corner across the room, fanning herself and sending worried glances in the approximate direction of both the doctor and her son.

So, he had no choice left. He had to pull the most powerful weapons out of his arsenal - inspired by the many pieces that served as baubles on his desktop tree. Seonghwa was grateful that he had the foresight to not unpack the disposable syringe before checking the kid’s tolerance. Judging by the smile that spread across the boy’s face, and the confused expression gracing his mother’s, Seonghwa knew he hit the jackpot and there was potential for him to catch a break if the appointment did not run over, and if he was lucky enough, perhaps the main reason behind his rush would be free too. The simple thought inadvertently crawled into Seonghwa’s mind, and he lowered his gaze to suppress a shy smile and return to being the amiable paediatrician that he needed to be.

“Now, mister Junseo, will you wait a couple of seconds for me?” After receiving his patient’s enthusiastic nods of approval, he spun around on his stool, and rolled towards the cabinet that occupied the majority of the right wall of his office.

Stopping himself from crashing into his desk with a fast hand, he opened one of the lower doors to reveal a series of colour coded and labelled trays, each one filled to the brim with even more vibrant hues, but maintaining a strict order. Pulling the first and then the second tray from the top, the doctor inspected the contents, and decided to give the final decision to Junseo, turning to him with a grin on his face.

“Dinosaurs or spaceships?”

“Spaceships!” just as Seonghwa had thought, this question broke through the storm clouds of doubt and fear, cutting right down to Junseo’s primary interests, some of which the young doctor just so happened to share – the only difference was that the latter had to also remember that he had a job to do, and that job involved convincing, or cleverly deceiving with good intentions, a little kid into a routine shot. It was hard not to wonder what your, his life partner’s, reaction would be if you were in this room with him, considering that this environment was probably the furthest a space from your natural habitat - the operating room, could be.

“A man of good taste I see. I mean, dinosaurs are cool too, but I will let you in on a little secret… I have matching spaceship band aids,” As he pulled out the tray that contained some pre-built spaceships, with the bricks being from a younger-child-friendly set, along with stray pieces that turned the set into the perfect cognitive and sensory exercise, Seonghwa took time to explain his actions to the boy. In a way this was not too dissimilar from the preparation of instruments for surgery, so perhaps you would find joy in this interaction to the same extent as him. He shook his head lightly, reeling himself back to the matter at hand.

Sometimes, Seonghwa pondered whether too much of his budget, and, on occasion, personal finances, went towards making his office be more of a playground than what one would imagine ‘a doctor’s lair’ to be – in his mind, that was your office, one that he visited enough times to memorise. An ode to modernity, with books and documents, diagrams and an anatomically accurate model of a brain with various labels - just what one would expect of a real doctor. But both fortunately and unfortunately, this was a style that Seonghwa would not attempt to achieve in his own office. There was a mat on the floor made out of foam puzzle pieces, there was every form of toy transport he could find, animals, dolls… he swore he appeared in toy stores more regularly than in the pharmacy at this point. But the joy with which his patients’ faces lit up was more than encouraging, reminding him that he was on the right path, he was doing well, and that everything was worth it.

“NO WAY!” Junseo yelled out, excitedly kicking his feet. The paper towels that lined the bench rustled slightly, the link between the sheets being stress tested – much like the mother, who appeared to be speechless, but at least no longer faint.

Seonghwa imagined that his present conclusions and responsive actions were not too distant from how teachers felt when they saw a certain type of action be executed by a child, and then saw its origins during parent teacher conferences. The conclusion had come to his mind on its own accord but resounded loudly enough for him to send a reassuring gleam to Missus in the corner, and observe her delayed reactions as she, evidently, was battling the instinct to throttle him to the ground and save her child from danger. How wild and fascinating the generational sharing of fears and burdens was. Seonghwa turned his attention back to the star of the show, who was eagerly waiting for the eloquently advertised, and much anticipated, spaceships.

“Yes way! And I can show them to you later.” Seonghwa responded with a chuckle, setting the tray next to the boy, making him turn to the side and better expose the arm that was to receive the intramuscular injection. Even though Junseo was now fully immersed in the toy provided, he still expressed his gratitude, forcing the man to use every ounce of strength in him to not melt.

“Thank you so much Doctor Park!”

"No, thank you! Lego is my favourite, you know, but if you picked dinosaurs, you could have heard my tyrannosaurus rex impression." He could hear some shuffling outside of the room, turning into a thud as he introduced his ‘special ability’ when it came to distraction tactics. It was straining, conducting all his appointments without a nurse, since quite a number had arranged to go on holiday for Christmas, including his favourite in the form of a tall man with the brightest smile and enough energy to power the whole building - Jeong Yunho. Was it a challenge for Seonghwa? Perhaps, but he was coping. Besides, would he really want anyone here with him except a certain someone who was not even in this specialisation?

"Awh... no... but that sounds so fun I wanna hear, I wanna hear!!!" The cute boy was practically begging, giving Seonghwa his best puppy dog eyes with a turn of his head – that would not do for the doctor’s mission, however, Junseo needed to be practically in a different realm for it to work.

"Could you attach this jet engine please?" In the softest voice he could muster, Seonghwa guided attention back to the spaceships, commenting on how well Junseo was assembling them. He infinitely admired the ability that children had to disregard common practices, ignore rules and simply create. As Junseo would get older, he would undoubtedly have to succumb to standardisation, but in the meantime, he could enjoy picking a wild palette of coloured bricks, not think about astrophysics when constructing the ships, and be perfectly satisfied with what he was crafting.

"Mhm..."

Using the moment of distraction, Seonghwa turned and reached for the hand sanitiser pump on his desk, cleaning his hands. With practised motions, as he returned to his seat in front of the kid, the doctor took out the prefilled syringe out of the pocket of his white coat, peeling the decontamination seal to fish the item out. He had a small window of opportunity and needed to act fast to seize it. From the other pocket, he produced a packet with an alcohol swab, carefully tearing it, as far away from Junseo as possible so that he would not be shocked by the smell.

"Now, Junseo, could you sit a little closer to me, so... oh thank you!" The child obediently shuffled, not taking his eyes off the Lego pieces. "You might feel a little cold on your arm, but don't worry I will roar that away, okay, you with me? Ah wait, how do we make that ship the strongest in the galaxy?" breath in, breath out. Watching the child’s movements so that he would not accidentally hurt himself. Lifting the sleeve of the t-shirt the Junseo was wearing ever so slightly, Seonghwa crept towards the bench on his wheeled stool, praying to every higher power that he would be done with this appointment soon, but retaining his professionalism. It was now or never.

"Imma show you-"

"Nyaaaaaaah~"

As soon as Seonghwa started, he was done, and the syringe was long hidden behind his back as he pressed a cotton ball to the area, though Junseo could not care less, having broken into a fit of giggles over the interesting interpretation of a t-rex. No matter how exhausted he was, this was one of the things the doctor lived for – having the ability to make medicine, doctor’s visits, and hospitals just a little bit less miserable for the little ones, something of a game or an adventure, him being of the opinion that these pocket-sized humans did not deserve to be exposed to the struggles quite yet. If it was in his power, he would have changed the ‘quite yet’ to never, but that was far too utopian, and something wiped out of him in first year of medical school. So, Doctor Park simply tried his best.

"DOCTOR PARK THAT WAS NOT A ROAR!!!" Junseo proclaimed, still giggling as he clutched onto a bright green brick. Seonghwa chuckled, sliding to the left to dispose of the syringe in a biohazard bin, stretching himself out so that he could still keep holding the cotton ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the mother beginning to come to her senses, the ‘high alert’ mode dropping to a more manageable, generally healthy parental worry.

"Then come on, show me what you've got. I bet you have a-"

"ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!" With him being startled by what he should have expected, he could not help but throw a glance at the other adult in the room, finding her surprised. Hands clasped together, she whispered ‘goodness gracious’, and upon finding out that she had a one-man audience, gave a sheepish grin and looked down. Seonghwa was calming down from his ‘performance’, the doctor, actor, caregiver and child-friendly comedian in him began to leave his body, giving way to a straightforward happiness of a man who could see that he helped out people in need.

"Wow now that is IMPRESSIVE Mister Junseo! Ah wait, could you hold this for me?” he gestured towards the cotton ball, and once the boy complied, backed away to get some more hand sanitiser. “We are done!"

"Huh? Wait... no ouchy?" genuinely confused, the toddler asked, dropping the Lego pieces entirely and blinking in slow motion.

"We scared the ouchy away with spaceships and your awesome roar, didn't we?"

"WE DID!! WE DID!!" With the cotton forgotten, Junseo was about to hop off the bench, his hands pressed into the dark grey material he had been sitting on, but before he could Seonghwa caught him, easily picking the boy up in his arms despite the weight that it put on him. After all, patients came first, and this was always a clear sign that he was trusted – besides, the kid did not have any other ailments, so a little hug would not hurt anyone, especially not Seonghwa’s soul.

"We did! I promised you a cool band aid too so... ah hold on let me... watch your head please." With Junseo still in his arms, Doctor Park ambled towards the other side of the office, closer to where the mother was now standing, to reach into one of the shelves and retrieve the packet of what he considered to be something akin to achievement stamps. A final well done from him to the patient, for being so courageous and letting Seonghwa poke them with a needle.

The rest of the appointment went by in a blur. The boy was safely back in his mother’s arms, sporting a colourful bandaid, babbling away about spaceships, quietly repeating Seonghwa’s dinosaur impression, and emphasising for the umpteenth time that ‘the injection actually did not hurt at all’, much to the mother’s delight. She looked to be on cloud nine as she held her bundle of joy, and even though he was bouncing on her lap to the point where the doctor would assume that she was in discomfort, the woman showed no sign, and instead gleamed at him, expressing genuine gratitude.

"So sorry for all the trouble and that I could not help in any way, please accept my-"

"No need no need! Junseo is such a sweet boy, and it was all his bravery in the end. I am just doing my job." He tried to assure her, flipping through the vaccination booklet she had provided and filling out the details of the shot. While checking the date just in case, despite him having a mental countdown to Christmas with the precision down to an hour practically built into his brain, he still noted the clock on his computer, memorising the time in order to figure out when approximately you would be done with the surgery you had arranged for this evening. Maybe he would have enough time to stop by your department, and manage to catch you there to ask about what plans for celebration you two would dare have in between busy schedules. His attention was guided back to the jovial duo on the armchair, as the mother spoke once more.

"You perform miracles, Doctor Park. Really. You are truly one of a kind! Before today I was convinced that he was wired to cry at every appointment..." she lowered her voice a little, just as Junseo turned away to pick at one of his trouser pockets.

"If you are worried about him developing any phobias and the like, I can recommend some amazing medical experts who can work with you and him?" Whenever anyone voiced a concern, he took it as part of his responsibility to respond wholeheartedly, and as such, once he completed the record, offered assistance. Perhaps this was also a safe zone for him, a removal from what otherwise would inevitably make his heart melt or ache. But to no avail.

"Oh no, no, I think I found the cure right here. Really, my husband will be so impressed about this!”

Husband. Happy family. There it was. Seonghwa felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he lifted himself off his chair, shut the booklet and returned it to the mother, and wife. It was difficult to convince himself that this was not jealousy tugging at his nerves and heartstrings, as the more he pondered the image of what had to be a perfect union, the dinners, the days out in the park, the little meet ups for lunch if either partner was otherwise busy… the domesticity got to him and made him want to slam the table in frustration. So, he did the next best thing, and clasped his hands behind his back so that he would not dare act out of line.

“Is that so?” he forced out, remaining composed as he returned the mother’s bows while she ushered her son forward and stood up to head for the door. He could not help but imagine the duo walking under the lights that adorned every shop, every street and coming home to their own tree, coming together as a small family in a cosy atmosphere. Similar routines, similar time off, the space to love and to live and to enjoy being ‘one’ to the fullest.

“I think he will want to come with us next time, to meet you, really… of course if you don't mind us scheduling check-ups with you from now on?" meet him… so Seonghwa could see the whole assembly… Really, right in the moment when his head was filled with thoughts of you, he had to be reminded of just how adorable some aspects of paediatrics could be, to the degree of malicious irritation.

He bet that the reason why you were so relaxed about your relationship was because you were not in direct contact with families and cute kids, for the most part. The closest you came to communicating with patients was in briefing, de-briefing and maintenance of their condition pre- and post- operation. He had to see the bad and good, the downs and ups, the rollercoasters and the memorable highs over long periods of time. Some of his patients he had known for so long, they were basically his relatives, and the personifications of sunshine that would rush to greet him, nearly stumbling over tiny shoes and sometimes barely reaching his waist, or even mid-thigh, restored his faith in the universe. It was exactly because he was aware of the downsides, and still desired this closeness and this next step with you, that he was cursing time itself for not allowing him to express this hope properly. Sure, you had discussed marriage, and both of you were more than committed to one another, but no words had been said about the part where someone popped the question. Was there ever going to be ‘the right time’? Especially when both of you were at the early stages of your medical careers, and were caught adrift in the chaotic shifts, training, exams and had to sacrifice yourselves for thousands who came through the doors of the hospital.

"Ah, whatever you would prefer, Missus Hwang. It would be an honour.” He squashed his nerves for the remainder of the appointment, and peacefully parted with the two visitors to KQ Hospital, wishing them the happiest holidays and for a stable recovery from the vaccination.

Seonghwa remained standing in the corridor, his back propping the door to the office. Closing his eyes, he listened to the opening of the elevator, and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding once Junseo’s excited, shrill voice was muted by the doors. Gears moved into action as the machine carried the mother and son away from the paediatric ward. The doctor rolled his head in an attempt to relieve at least some of the tension that had built up from the back-to-back out-patient care, the abominable late nights, and the vexatious haze that plagued him in his own life.

It was going to be a long night. And he was barely a quarter of the way through his night shift; perhaps the winter cold and the shorter days were to blame for the melancholy mood. As he straightened himself up once more, Seonghwa instinctively reached for the phone that was hidden in the pocket of his black trousers, hoping for any kind of distraction. Checking the time, messages, whether you had even seen his text about the maintenance people coming to check the plumbing next week… any sign that there was a world beyond his job. But the communication flatlined, and he resorted to simply staring at his lockscreen: a picture of the two of you during that one vacation that you had managed to book together. The one where, three days in, both of you had severe work withdrawal, but thankfully laughed it off and soothed the pain by falling asleep in each other’s arms. That was what he missed. The simple things. If there was one thing he wished for this Christmas, it was for you and him to spend it together - no one else, no pagers going off incessantly, no family members intruding on your time, not even friends. He missed you, even though you were right there. Of course, he still felt blessed to be able to embrace you almost every time you two would be floating into dreamland - be it in the morning or in the evening, aside from when shifts did not align, but he craved more, always. Maybe he was being greedy, wanting for even more of your time. Nonetheless, he hoped that his readiness to sacrifice all of his for you would, at some point, result in his most romantic dreams, akin to castles in the sky, coming true. He wished to well and truly build a life with you. Seonghwa had never thought that he would pay so much attention to labels, but something about settling down officially, being together ‘in sickness and in health’, as he had heard in the vows at his friends’ weddings, was leaving him in a state of longing, constantly, until it was a permanent buzzing in his head.

"So... Doctor Seong-nyah-" rudely tearing through his daydreams, a familiar voice startled the doctor, causing him to gasp and shove his mobile phone into his pocket with panicked haste.

"Wooyoung, don't test me, you are not my patient." Seonghwa gasped, and retorted with sudden venom, spinning to face the man who, evidently, had been loitering around in the corridor behind him for a lot longer than he would ever accept.

"But I want a sticker or a bandaid please~"

But the action only resulted in a stupor, as right there, hands in pockets, the ghost of a mischievous smile on perfectly tinted lips, was his favourite person. Doctor L/N Y/N, neurosurgeon, and definitely the one who had changed his brain wiring to short circuit every time he saw you. Before Wooyoung got any cheekier due to the lack of a response and the less than discreet gawking from Seonghwa’s end, he forced out a random commentary; anything to keep himself from going into cardiac arrest.

"You keep stealing my Disney princess ones anyways!?"

"Can't help it. Besides I've seen you snatch the toy sword so consider us even."

A light blush was threatening to coat his cheeks as he gazed at you, mesmerised by your cheerful reaction. Without a doubt you were imagining the scene, and had you been alone, would coo at ‘just how endearing’ it was. This was not the kind of ‘break between appointments’ that he was imagining, and while you were here, before him, very obviously free, Seonghwa was questioning whether this was a manifestation of luck or a curse.

"That was for safety… and… uh… hello my love.” he mumbled, while you smiled at him, and gave him a gentle wave, already anticipating that even if you were to speak, you would crack and reveal what you had been planning - a major step forward that had been plaguing your mind at almost all hours, even in rare snippets of quiet. Technically, what you had said to Seonghwa was true - it had been an operation, just of a different kind. Careful to not let the mandatory Santa hat you had tugged on your head as part of your department’s senior residents’ effort to ‘keep the spirits up’ slip, you adjusted it to be more snug, and rapidly returned your attention to your boyfriend, who was intently studying you, admiring every detail as though he had not seen each one a million times over.

"Y/N here found the dinosaur impression cute, just so you know." Stuck in a limbo between locking himself in his office and throttling Wooyoung to the ground, Seonghwa chose neither and was simply amazed at how you could remain so nonchalant.

"Were both of you… listening to the… but that is not-”

You and Wooyoung exchanged a knowing look, causing suspicion to rise in Seonghwa. He was not fond of it. Not in the slightest. There was something brewing, and that glint in your eyes was less than reassuring. What were you hiding from him? A million questions a second ran through his mind as he subjected you to scrutiny. First off, you had said that the surgery could be challenging. And yet he could not detect the slight furrowing in your brows, the slouch, the pursed lips that you normally had if you were monitoring a patient in critical condition.

"They were around the department, and I just so happen to know that you are a certified clown so..." Wooyoung began, purposefully winding the taller man up until he was ready to break the Hippocratic oath and cause harm.

"Says the person who can literally replace the fire alarm with his-"

“This is why you should follow my methods and do the whole ‘energy drink and coffee” cocktail before those ghostly long shifts, I tell you-” crossing his arms, Wooyoung appeared to be enjoying every moment he spent teasing his fellow colleague, ignoring how you were starting to get impatient, glancing down the corridor and back to the bickering friends.

“How even-”

"Well, I would more than like to consult the lovely, charming clown please, because I have a whole circus on my hands and need some help.”

That was all that was needed to regain all attention back. Seonghwa gave Wooyoung one last sidelong stare before focusing on you, attempting to figure out just what you were scheming. He knew better than to pry, however, if there was anyone in your relationship who was an expert in dissecting, be it literally or metaphorically, it would be you. That was exactly why he stood and waited with bated breath, fingertips dancing on his upper thigh. In trepidation, the young man’s mind replayed every shared moment with unfathomable clarity, leading him to wonder if this mischievous glint in your stunning orbs was further foreshadowing, much like your sudden announcement that you would be working the same hours as him today, and upon questioning passed it off as “a bit of Christmas luck”.

“Right…” Wooyoung’s voice appeared distant, barely audible against the thrum of nervousness and lighthearted suspicion. Running a hand through his wavy, neatly parted long hair Seonghwa gave you a lopsided grin before following you down the corridor and giving his colleague an amiable wave, along with a cheerful call of “see you later”. His friend had the whole night ahead of them - much like you and Seonghwa. Except, unfortunately, you and your partner were floors, departments away. Not that far in the grand scheme of things, but far enough for Seonghwa’s heart to start hurting when he least expected it.

Just like now, despite you being within arm’s reach, the proximity reminded him of just how much of a luxury such moments were, and how, should anything go wrong, you would metaphorically evaporate. The beeping of a pager would be enough to make you or him leave, that damned device having to be strapped on and prioritised above everything else. As less and less time remained until Christmas, the probability of it going off climbed higher and higher, so every step was a risk, and every scheduled consultation or out-patient care call when Seonghwa was mandated to hand off his monitoring duties to another resident - a temporary salvation.

You were in your scrubs, and were sporting a standard issue doctor’s coat, ever so professional. Though your back was facing him, Seonghwa could easily imagine the identity card clipped to the pocket above your heart, along with the embroidered hospital name and emblem, and your department. Neurosurgery. The top of the top, an art and a science so complex that Seonghwa was in awe of you eternally. How you dedicated your life to the mystery behind a person’s eyes, and how you could heal the terrifyingly enigmatic organ with astounding success. Determined, passionate in all ways, that was what had drawn the enamoured man to you, and what had made him fall deeper and deeper and vow to stay for as long as you would allow him. Would you be fine with him tagging along, just like this? Would you be willing to walk in the same stride?

“Hwa,” turning your head, you exclaimed your boyfriend’s nickname and then turned back to scan your pass to let you both through to another corridor, “how has your day been so far, lovely?”

“It’s been good, not too bothersome. Last appointment was a vaccination - not sure how or why the literal holidays were chosen for this, but who am I to judge,” looking around, Seonghwa responded. Quickly, he caught up to you, and in a matter of moments you felt how his fingers intertwined with yours, and his palm was pressed against you, as though a mirror image. Jigsaw pieces falling into a perfect union, your hands, stilled in harmony.

“Maybe not everyone wants to skip school,” you mused, poking fun at the times when your boyfriend did just that - at least before university and him choosing to major in medicine hit like a truck; in the blissful middle and high school days, so easy in retrospect - a fever dream.

“I’d love to hear what the little patient would think about that one… but really, Christmas? Why would you run the risk of having side effects over Christmas?”

“That’s true… but I bet you made the appointment a really good time. In fact, from what I have heard I am sure you did,” you teased, making Seonghwa squeeze your hand and click his tongue in pretend annoyance.

“Hey, I’m trying my best here-”

“-and you are making the world a better place,” you cut him off, squeezing back and urging him on, closer and closer to your final destination.

Seonghwa shook his head, bewildered at the sudden outburst of affection. You were normally not the kind to get too sappy at work - if anyone, it was him who would gush about the simplest things to you during a brief lunch break, while you would be nodding along with a grin on your face. You were excited about something, without a doubt. What it was, however, was beyond him, so he let you lead, while playfully questioning your behaviour.

“What’s gotten into you? Did you forget to put the plates back in the cupboard at home?” he squinted, slightly relieved when you chuckled but still left without a concrete answer:

“Can’t I praise the love of my life every once in a while?”

“You can, but-”

“-Besides, Yeosang, you know, my friend from paediatric neurosurgery, he said kids who you had treated talk about you non-stop. Maybe you should pay some of them a visit. If their treating doctors allow it, of course.”

Eyes widening, Seonghwa barely noticed you slipping away from him to grab a large bag you had stationed by a heavy exit door, and in bewilderment was concerned if he should believe your overwhelmingly kind message. All those little lives he had the honour of getting to know and trying his best to help… remembering him? It was at times like these, even the hardest days were worth it. For the present and for the future. He returned to reality only when he felt a gust of freezing cold air hit his form and goosebumps ran over his skin. Your proud, loving smile greeted him and encouraged him to walk on. When Seonghwa attempted to query your spontaneous adventurism, you waved it off - forward, only forward. Making a note of something fluffy in texture peeking out of the bag, he hoped for it to be at least a scarf; a doctor should know to not expose themselves to the risk of colds.

You led Seonghwa to one of the many secluded areas of the hospital - forgotten by most staff, this portion of the roof was the prettiest at night, when the lights of surrounding high rises and the rest of the metropolis stretching out as far as the eye could see all glimmered like a blanket of stars laid down on the precious planet. The city, forever awake, bustling with activity. A hand brushed against his upper arm, and he turned his head to see you holding his coat that he swore he had left in the call room. Gingerly, the article was in his grasp, and yet another question was travelling for you to tackle:

“Now when did you get this? I know I did not just leave it lying around.”

“Mhm, call room. Coat hanger. By the door. I am very aware. I picked it up on the way.”

“Sounds like someone had a lot of time…” trailing off, Seonghwa put on the coat, watching as you did the same. Apparently, that was not all that was in the bag, and with each item that was revealed, his surprise grew and grew.

“Just enough to prepare a little something,” in one swift movement, you caught your boyfriend off guard with sudden Santa hat attack - nearly covering his eyes with the white fluff, previously styled hair shooting out in different directions from under the accessory, you still deemed the mission successful, and giggled, elaborating: “now, we match.”

He could not not love you. Much like the nights in December were dark and his exhales turned to steam that was to be whisked away by the wind, he was confident in the fact that he was born to love you, and only you. It was funny to think that years ago he thought of other kinds of forever, only for them to fall apart in months. Seonghwa mused about different realities, but was never afraid of losing them until inevitably happened; not because he did not care at all, but because his heart was never in the right place. Now that his heart was home, it was clear. Most of all, the clearest sign of the truth that belonged to your relationship, was the subconscious fear, continuous and blended into every note of adoration. It was in his love for you that he found what it meant to be afraid to lose.

The young man did not want to lose these priceless moments - how you would make an elaborate plan and surprise him with it. How out of nowhere, before his very eyes was a blanket that you laid down on the roof, a portable heater that emitted a glow akin to that of a campfire, and a large wool throw that he assumed you wished to use to keep you both warm. That shine that he swore was coming from something heavenly within you as you dragged him to take a seat, your adorable cooing over him as you wrapped the two of you tight with the throw, and scooched until your body was pressed against his. On instinct, Seonghwa’s arm was around you, and he leaned in until he could smell the faint, comforting aroma of your strawberry shampoo. Staring into the heater, he imagined a gentle flame, falling into a beautiful daydream - a world where there was just you and him.

This was a long-standing fantasy of his, a picture of which he had painted for you many times while you counted stars on the ceiling of your bedroom, drifting off to sleep just before the chirping of the birds, the dawn bidding you farewell and wishing a good rest. Somewhere nowhere, in a place with no name, surrounded by no one and nothing, you two could stay for a little while and indulge in simplicity. An escape from the daily stresses, a dive into the daily bliss of being enamoured and having found one’s soulmate. In a little cottage that you two could rent out, with a little spot outside so you could pretend like you were properly camping, Seonghwa prayed for time in an earthly utopia.

“I couldn’t find sticks, So I hope you are fireproof,” a marshmallow was held between two delicate fingers right before his eyes. A large, white cloud and a hint that you might have been listening a lot more intently than you had let on.

“I- are we- are we about to be toasting marshmallows?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” the doctor followed your lead, stretching out his hand to the heater, imagining the marshmallow roast away; if Seonghwa were to squint hard enough, he could almost see the colour change.

A giggle escaped you, and you huddled into him, at peace due to the safety which you always said he naturally oozed. Without fail you told him how he was a walking spring day, a blessing, a shining star. The more you said it, the more confident he became in accepting the words as truth, and then, one day when he caught you admiring him from afar while waiting for him to finish rounds, acceptance turned into a fact. By loving you, and by letting you love him, Seonghwa learned to love himself. Thoughts of fond memories prompted him to give you a gentle poke, making you lift your head in perplexion. This, however, was quickly dispelled by a the sweetest kiss, deepened by a gentle hand that found purchase on the nape of your neck.

Lips so familiar, so addicting; each time they met was the kindling of a miniature paradise. A journey through time, to end only in the future, the present turned into a miracle in which he could immerse himself, all of his senses attuned to you. The touch of your lips was the rays of a sun in May, kind and soothing, blossoming into the finest beauty and the most satisfying serenity on verdant green leaves and gorgeous flowers. The only thing he could hear was the breeze creeping across the not quite as picturesque cement and metal, and the ghost of a mumble of “I love you” as you parted for air, still close enough to share it.

Lost in your eyes, Seonghwa wished he could never be found. He was willing to endlessly draw the maze that trapped him in them, adapting it to formulate a personal infinity. Eyelashes, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, every blemish and freckle and scar were all priceless to him. You, in all your personal divinity, a universe that so intently studied him, loved every part unconditionally and invited him in to do the same. A symbiosis, a system of two stars orbiting one another - a gorgeous celestial waltz was how he saw you and him. Under the night sky full of constellations, you two were still the brightest. Seonghwa’s heart was full. He ever so softly let his hand slide to the side of your face, thumb gliding slowly over the skin of your cheek. Once, twice - perpetual motion, each one marking another second in which love grew stronger, and the yearning for his dream more intense. If only he could put it into words. And yet, courage only allowed him to muster a mere two which were far too general, ambiguous:

“Thank you.”

“I am glad we could do this,” you answered, sharing in his delight. You did not need anything else, seeing past the mellow, pleasant triviality.

“I think the only downside is that now I want to do this all the time,” his hand guided your head into the crook of his neck, so you could sit side by side, looking out into the urban expanse. Silence weighed on you, until a long-awaited suggestion reached Seonghwa’s ears.

“Well… we could. At least for Christmas.”

“As if we will be taking days off, yeah.”

“Who says we won’t?”

“I- huh?”

You took his hands in yours, and shuffled for you to be face to face. Much to your astonishment, when it came down to the critical moment when you would start being blatantly obvious in your intentions, you were not as anxious anymore. Everything felt more than right, and the comfortable quietude resembled the globe holding its breath for you.

“I have an idea,” your boyfriend was intrigued, but doubtful. He had hopes, sure, but he knew better than to keep them up, “so… ahem, well, for us it is standard practice to not schedule anything major on holidays, just in case, and thankfully I could… reschedule some things…”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded along, raising his eyebrow. Your hands held his more tightly on their own accord, shaking a little as you spoke.

“Well, so, yeah, you know how the head of… the head of paediatrics is a big family person right?”

“Yeah, comes with the job I suppose, and?” tongue darting over his lips, Seonghwa began to sense what you were getting at, and he swore there was not enough oxygen to sustain him, and a dizziness settled over his mind, clouding it, leaving behind only you, you, you-

“Hm… well… I think they would be more than happy to let a new family celebrate together… yeah?”

“...Yeah…yeah?”

“So what I’m saying is-”

“Will you marry me?”

“Beat me to it,” gleaming, you pulled him in, stopping a mere few millimetres away, seeking approval.

Hints of tears welling in his deep brown eyes induced your own. Pressed forehead to forehead, you memorised every tiny detail, how you felt, how Seonghwa felt, how you were both fondly mumbling ‘yes's and ‘always’s and ‘I love you’s over and over again; vows uttered at the beginning of a new chapter of a miraculous life, in perfect harmony.

“I’m sorry for the ‘no ring’ situation-”

“I’d marry you with paper rings,” Seonghwa responded at the speed of light, quoting one of the many songs that both of you loved to listen to, and would blast in the living room many times over, “how did you even plan this-”

“Don’t bash me, but Wooyoung was an accomplice-”

“Of course he was,” he flicked your nose with his and guided you into another kiss, your hat sliding away and almost falling to the ground, saved only by Seonghwa’s reflexes. Smiling against your lips, he only deepened the sensual expression of devotion, parting simply to confess,

“To think we were rehearsing the same thing but I was too scared to say it.”

“You are too precious. And I’m sorry if I’m too scary, angel,” you winked, earning an amused, airy laugh.

This could not be the furthest from how Seonghwa felt; the notion of you terrifying him was hilarious. Everything but you was the issue. You were his safe haven, his clarity. The one to whom he had already given away all his hours, be it in closeness or in his dreams both in the day and night. You were his and he was yours, and now that the one change he had been begging all the goodness in the galaxy for finally happened, he wanted to shout this from every rooftop, starting from this fated, isolated spot that must have been made for just you two.

“No, I am just more certain that you can read minds,” he gestured to the heater, the untouched marshmallows, the stars, and finally stopped at you, alluding to what was to be your proposal, turned mutual.

“Just because I poke around brains-” you began, only to be stopped by unparalleled cuteness in the form of a scrunched up face and a tiny smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, you aren’t even a cardiologist and you stole my heart-”

“Park Seonghwa, cease the flirting, we are getting married-” playfully, you slap his shoulder.

“Oh, you only saw the beginning,” a wiggle of the eyebrows. Your very soul fluttered at the sight of his megawatt grin, and the innocent peck left on your cheek.

“...I hope so,” your wish. To cherish the many sides, colours, shades, edges, angles of your spectacular Seonghwa.

“It’s decided. I’ll hit you with all the festive pick up lines starting tomorrow.”

As you settled back into an embrace, regarding the golden glow of your inner oasis that transposed onto all, previously dark, surroundings, you unwillingly played the role of the realist.

“Ask your department head first.”

“For a blessing?”

“No, silly, to confirm your freedom.”

“Yes, Doc’,” in jest, your fiance saluted you, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his waist, brushing your jaw against his shoulder.

“Page me after."

“I will page myself across the hospital to tell you.”

“Awh, my Seonghwa Claus and my present in one,” absent-mindedly, you reached for a stubborn strand of his hair to push away, and twirled it around your digits, careful to not ruin the perfect balance of the themed hat beneath which they tried to establish their own order, threatening to disturb your elated angel.

“My future spouse- oh I’ll be saying this so often.”

From one day to the next, under the sun and moon, with many seasons passing by, you became the time that you seeked and previously fought against. As you looked to one another for more and more in your lives, it was destined that eventually, the idea of any other path would be simply impossible. At the end of a year came a new beginning, witnessed by the observant stars and by the long winter night.

“Me too, my love, until I can call you my husband.”

🩺 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

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thornbutch · 6 months

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One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

#gen v #jordan li #fem4fem #gen v fanfiction #andre anderson #ooc #sapphic #angst #jordan li smut #smut #reader insert #x reader #Spotify

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haggishlyhagging · 21 days

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It took about two hours for Daina Taimina to find the solution that had eluded mathematicians for over a century. It was 1997, and the Latvian mathematician was participating in a geometry workshop at Cornell University. David Henderson, the professor leading the workshop, was modelling a hyperbolic plane constructed out of thin, circular strips of paper taped together. 'It was disgusting,' laughed Taimina in an interview.

A hyperbolic plane is 'the geometric opposite' of a sphere, explains Henderson in an interview with arts and culture magazine Cabinet. 'On a sphere, the surface curves in on itself and is closed. A hyperbolic plane is a surface in which the space curves away from itself at every point.' It exists in nature in ruffled lettuce leaves, in coral leaf, in sea slugs, in cancer cells. Hyperbolic geometry is used by statisticians when they work with multidimensional data, by Pixar animators when they want to simulate realistic cloth, by auto-industry engineers to design aerodynamic cars, by acoustic engineers to design concert halls. It's the foundation of the theory of relativity, and thus the closest thing we have to an understanding of the shape of the universe. In short, hyperbolic space is a pretty big deal.

But for thousands of years, hyperbolic space didn't exist. At least it didn't according to mathematicians, who believed that there were only two types of space: Euclidean, or flat space, like a table, and spherical space, like a ball. In the nineteenth century, hyperbolic space was discovered - but only in principle. And although mathematicians tried for over a century to find a way to successfully represent this space physically, no one managed it - until Taimina attended that workshop at Cornell. Because as well as being a professor of mathematics, Taimina also liked to crochet.

Taimina learnt to crochet as a schoolgirl. Growing up in Latvia, part of the former Soviet Union, 'you fix your own car, you fix your own faucet - anything', she explains. 'When I was growing up, knitting or any other handiwork meant you could make a dress or a sweater different from everybody else's.' But while she had always seen patterns and algorithms in knitting and crochet, Taimina had never connected this traditional, domestic, feminine skill with her professional work in maths. Until that workshop in 1997. When she saw the battered paper approximation Henderson was using to explain hyperbolic space, she realised: I can make this out of crochet.

And so that's what she did. She spent her summer 'crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms' by the swimming pool. 'People walked by, and they asked me, "What are you doing?" And I answered, "Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane."' She has now created hundreds of models and explains that in the process of making them 'you get a very concrete sense of the space expanding exponentially. The first rows take no time but the later rows can take literally hours, they have so many stitches. You get a visceral sense of what "hyperbolic" really means.' Just looking at her models did the same for others: in an interview with the New York Times Taimina recalled a professor who had taught hyperbolic space for years seeing one and saying, 'Oh, so that's how they look.' Now her creations are the standard model for explaining hyperbolic space.

-Caroline Criado Perez, Invisible Women

Photo credit

#caroline criado perez #Daina Taimina #women in stem #women’s history #women in science #crochet #crocheting #female mathematicians #hyperbolic space

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janmisali · 1 year

Text

the "what number comes next?" problem

here's a sequence of numbers:

3198, 11, 734, 11, 1115, 11, 1440...

can you guess what number comes next?

that's right, it's another eleven! but what comes after that?

well, in this case it happens to be 1936. can you figure out the pattern? how far into the sequence could you predict?

this is a pretty hard problem, and in the most general form (I give you any sequence of numbers and ask you what number comes next) there's literally no way to solve it perfectly. the possibilities are endless!

but just because something is impossible to do perfectly doesn't mean you can't try. in the sequence at the start of the post, even though there was no guarantee that there's another eleven next, there's a sense in which that's the most "sensible" continuation, the one that follows the pattern most closely.

here's another sequence:

24794, 24794, 24794, 24794, 24794, 24794...

wouldn't it be reasonable to assume that the next number is another 24794? you might even be able to use some fancy statistical model to specify exactly how confident you are that the next number is another 24794.

but of course, without knowing the underlying meta-pattern that generates these patterns, there's no real reason to assume that any one pattern will be more likely than another.

so what if instead of just showing you one sequence of numbers, I showed you a lot of sequences of numbers? is there is a method of discovering this meta-pattern, assuming one exists?

the answer is, sorta! it depends on how many examples you're given and on how chaotic the underlying meta-pattern is.

so, you know how when you have a bunch of data plotted on a graph you can find the "best-fit line"? the closer the data is to being a line in the first place, the better this approximation will work.

defining a line only uses two parameters (mx+b), but the thing is that if you make a more complicated function with more parameters to play around with (as long as you're clever about it), you can define a relatively-simple mathematical equation that gets arbitrarily close to any data, no matter how messy that data is! you can just keep adding more parameters until you have enough to model the complexity of the given data.

now, the more parameters you have the more expensive it is computationally to find what configuration of all the parameters gets your fancy approximation as close to the data as possible (there are some linear algebra and calculus tricks that help!), but depending on the application, you can use this sort of method to get good-enough approximations to whatever data it is that you want to model!

however, this doesn't mean you've actually found the underlying meta-pattern. it's just a fancier version of looking at data you've already seen and drawing lines between points to interpolate between things. any approximation made this way will be in a sense "smoother" than what it's modeling, always predicting (for this application) that the next number in the sequence is the "average" in some sense of all the things that could come next, gravitating towards the most default and "boring" patterns.

anyway that's how chatgpt works

#jan misali #math #comp sci

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pinkie-pop · 8 months

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"We've Seen The Devil—He Was Hiding In The Mirror."

Part I Part II

Inspired by @shiny-jr's "I didn't ask to be isekaied" and "We just got a letter, wonder where it's from" series.

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Twisted Wonderland Various x Reader, Self-Aware AU, Yandere TWST

Synopsis: They swore to love you. Oh, how far they've fallen. No matter, though. For that oath is not theirs alone.

Word count: 3k

Includes: Nightmares, PTSD, maggots and insects (briefly), obsession, trauma, panic attacks

"You are no savior—nor purpose nor God. You are damnation—a phony and fraud."

--------------

Already having retreated to the relative safety of Ramshackle dorm, you get to the work of stripping your layers and washing yourself of the night’s events. The clothes you came in are marred in dirt and blood. Just looking at them has you feeling overwhelmed, and so, rather than try to wash a week's worth of torment from the garments, you opt for the much simpler approach of throwing them into the fireplace and borrowing nightwear from Yuu's dresser.

Approximately three hours have passed since it ended, and the thunderstorms have only gotten worse. You suppose he must still be upset; it seems that not even his beloved retainers could keep him in check. The never ending thunder has long since lost its terror, and as the adrenaline of the night begins to wear off, you find yourself lounging on the couch, less and less inclined to use your remaining energy to clean out your wounds. Maybe you'll just ask Grim to cauterize them later…

There's nothing interesting about the ceiling you are staring at so intently, and so you let your eyes glaze over as your mind drifts off to greener pastures you'll never have the chance to visit.

It's the middle of spring: your clothes are light and airy, the gentle wind causing them to flow around you like a flower in bloom. You have spent the day picking apples from an orchid, and you are now going to have a picnic in a nearby meadow. You descend down the hill in woven sandals, careful not to spill the contents of your basket. A gust of wind almost knocks the straw hat from your head, but the air is cool and refreshing.

Upon reaching the base of the hill, you take a moment to admire the world around you. The sun is warm upon your skin, but the gentle breeze keeps the heat at bay. Leaves and blossoms fall from the sky, mingling with the blooms of the flowers surrounding the area. A butterfly flutters by your nose in greeting, then drifts off to the next new thing. You cannot see the birds, but you can hear their songs as you pass through, looking for the perfect spot to place your blanket.

You find that spot in the middle of the field. It is surrounded by flowers, but not so much so that you would risk crushing them with your blanket. You set down your basket and open it up, careful to pick out the best-looking apple from earlier. You close your eyes and take a bite…

…But it rots the second you bite into it. Maggots gush from the cavity and into your mouth, wriggling and writhing under your tongue. Millipedes and roaches crawl all over you. Worms invade your senses. Ants burrow beneath your skin. They creep and crawl, slithering and squirming, and—

Your eyes shoot open, and the sensation is gone.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, the apple falls from your hand and rolls away. You collapse on your back and attempt to refocus your attention on the sky above you. There’s something interesting about the clouds today.

The first looks like a dove flapping its wings,

The second resembles a woman dozing off.

That one is almost a musical note, and that one looks like a smile. And—no, that isn’t quite right.

It is far more similar to a smirk.

The mouth widens as storm clouds gather and swirl around you. Dancing around in a cruel ballet. Thunder cracks in the distance as acidic rain hits and sears through your skin. The flowers turn to gravestones, and the songbirds begin to scream in human voices. Thorny vines reach up and take hold of your limbs, cutting through your flesh and bones as if they were made of nothing more than paper.

You are already halfway to being buried alive when you realize you’re being pulled in. Desperately, you try to claw your way out of the soil that threatens to swallow you into its suffocating embrace, but it's of no use. It isn’t long before you can no longer fight back. It isn’t long before you—

You bolt upwards, clasping your chest as you heave and gasp for air. Your nightwear is drenched in a cold sweat, but you can't find it in yourself to care. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire, and your whole body heaves with each labored breath. You leap off the couch, nearly tripping on the blanket you didn't know you had, only for a fit of nausea to throw you off balance and cause your fall regardless.

Of course, as if the rest wasn’t enough, sickness has also decided to take its turn in making you miserable. You reach a hand to your forehead, checking for fever. Unfortunately, your entire body is burning up, making this a rather ineffective method. You let your hand drop to your side and take a moment to orientate yourself.

Gathering the thin blanket you had nearly tripped on earlier, you wrap it around your shoulders like a shawl and step into the kitchen. You find a handtowel near the sink and run it under cool water, then place it on your forehead, hoping that your fever will start to break soon. Sighing, you look around the kitchen as it occurs to you that you’ve never been here before. The area wasn’t accessible in-game, and you were too exhausted to look around when you first arrived. The floors are clean, the dishes are all tucked away in their cabinets.

Oddly, however, was the fridge, which, save for tuna and water, was entirely devoid of the contents one would expect a fridge to have. There were other peculiarities, too. Despite supposedly having been abandoned for decades, the dorm was in surprisingly good shape. Nothing seemed to be falling apart, and you were unable to spot even a single crack in the walls or floorboards.

It was then that you remembered Ignihyde’s chapter starts with Ramshackle’s destruction and ends with its renovation, and begin to feel a little silly. Although, the renovations still do little to explain the emptiness of the refrigerator.

Light from a nearby window hits your eye, and you turn to see that the clouds have cleared, making room for the moon’s rays. It is then that you realize that the weather has finally cleared up. Without rain or thunder to interrupt your sleep, you should be able to drift back off with relative ease. Provided, of course, that the nightmares don’t wake you up first.

Feeling a little better, you head back to sleep.

———

The water is cold enough to give you a brain freeze, but luckily (or rather, quite unluckily), your migraine is already so painful that you hardly notice. Even after rifling through every cabinet you could find, you're unable to spot anything resembling medication. You're halfway to trying your luck with a suspicious potion you found hidden in a kitchen cupboard when a voice from the foyer steals your attention.

"Mrah! Wake up already!" You poke your head out from behind a wall and peer into the living room, where Grim is excitedly shaking a pile of blankets. "C'mon, get up already!"

"Grim…?"

"MYAH!" You flinch as Grim leaps into the air, violently swerving his head around in—you assume—frantic search for the source of the disturbance. Upon spotting you, Grim visibly relaxes before tensing up once again and puffing out his chest. "Jeez, don't scare me like that."

"Could you not yell? I have a bad headache," you mutter, unwilling to raise your voice higher than a whisper. Grim, however—perhaps due to his feline features—, has no problem in hearing you and quickly offers a hushed apology. When he does, you nod at him to continue on with whatever he had wanted to tell you earlier.

"Thought I’d take ya on a tour of the place. Y’know, since you passed out before gettin'ta see anything yesterday n’ all." You suppose you don't have anything better to do. Maybe one of the rooms will have Aspirin.

"Alright, lead the way," you say, and Grim, perhaps already forgetting that you are unwell, quickly scampers away. It takes you a moment to catch up to him.

"This is the bedroom,” he says. ”Honestly, I can't believe ya fell asleep on the couch when you could've come here instead." Your gaze falls over to the bed, where someone appears to already be sleeping on it. "Oh, that's just Yuu. Been like that since before you arrived. No one knows what's wrong with it. We can just move it later."

"Do you think they'll wake up soon?"

"What's it matter?" Your surprise must show on your face because Grim seems to see it as a prompt to continue. "I mean, you're already here, aren't you? Whaddaya need Yuu for?"

"Isn't Yuu important to you? They've been with you since day one…"

"You've been with me since day one. Yuu's just our henchhuman." You frown. "C'mon, it's not a big deal. Yuu isn't even human." Well, that would explain the oddities you noticed earlier. Even so, the cold indifference in his eyes is chilling. Yuu was supposed to be like family to Grim. How could things have turned out like this?

Perhaps sensing your discomfort, Grim changes the subject. "C'mon, I'll show you the other rooms."

———

"This is the guest room ya worked on with that hammer. Not that you can tell. After Yuu shut down, everyone went crazy and destroyed the place. Normally they’d be trippin’ over themselves ta’ fix it, but…” Grim trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blanks yourself. As your gaze travels across the room, taking in all the broken furniture, torn wallpaper, and scattered stickers, something pops out at you. Something you don’t recognize.

"What's that over there?"

“Hm? Oh, those’re offerings.”

Well, that certainly raises more questions than it answers.

“For you, duh,” Grim flicks his tail, “Most of the stuff’s enchanted, so it didn’t break even when they tore the place up.” One gift catches your eye. A box of bottles in varying colors and sizes, each with a small label pressed onto their side.

“Those’re from Kalim. He brought a ton after Yuu got sick. Apparently, he bought even more than that, but Jamil stopped him before he could–” You don’t bother listening to the rest of his explanation and instead get right on to skimming through the bottles’ labels. If they’re for Yuu, then surely they aren’t poisoned. After all, Yuu is important to them. You would know that better than anyone.

Upon finding the bottle that matches your ailments, you pop it open and empty the contents into your stomach. It’s horribly bitter, but your headache vanishes on the spot. Nearly completely rejuvenated, you grab a piece of hard candy from a nearby stack of food offerings to rid your mouth of the taste.

Ah, if only potions existed back in your world, too. How very convenient they are. Grim, however, does not seem to share your sentiment. “Myah! At least read the label before ya’ drink something like that! Ya barely glanced at the thing before chugging it. Yer real reckless, ya’ know that?”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I'll even read it out loud, okay? It says…” You begin reading the label description, but stop when you get to the recommended dosage. "Ah."

"Huh? Why'd you stop?"

"I think I may have taken too much…" You say, a bit sheepishly. "It's probably fine, though." Grim appears entirely unconvinced. You don’t blame him for it. You yourself are not entirely convinced. But it was merely a potion, and you had, earlier, survived being hit by lightning. A potion would not be your downfall. You will be fine.

“There are other rooms you wanted to show me, right? Let’s go see them now. I promise to tell you if I start feeling ill.”

“Alright.” Grim’s worry seems to be quelled, at least somewhat. That is good, you think. Although your own worry still sits in the back of your head. Surely, you will be fine.

Yes, you will be fine. And so, you go to see the other rooms.

"Betcha didn't see this before, right?" He was right. You never saw—never even heard of—Ramshackle's library. It's an impressive room, albeit a bit old. The renovations must have skipped this room, though you’re not sure why.

“Do you like to read, Grim?” “Me? No way. Yuu seemed’ta really like this place, though. So I figured maybe you would, too.”

You nod, a sort of nostalgia washing over you as you browse through the titles. “I think I’ll stay here for a while,” you tell Grim.

“Myah, just don’t take too long, okay?” You smile at him, and he leaves.

And just like that, you are alone. It takes a moment for the realization to sink in on you: you are alone. And it is by your own doing, no less. What a terrifying lapse in judgment! What an egregious oversight! It was daylight, now. Nearly evening, but not night. No, it would be many more hours until night. It was daytime, early afternoon, and you were alone. Your shadows give away your location. The light betrays your every move. If the bell were to ring now, if someone were to walk past you in the hall.

Dear Gods, if someone were to recognize you—

No, now is not the time to panic. You have made it this far. All the way to the library. You have made it to the library, and it is daytime. The bell has not yet rung, but it will soon. You must hide. You must keep eyes on all routes of entry and escape. You must find a weapon.

You don’t even realize that you are shaking. You don’t even realize that you are cowering—that you are backing away. You knock into a bookshelf. It is an old bookshelf. Unsturdy. It is an old, unsturdy, bookshelf, and you have knocked into it.

It falls.

You fall.

It all crashes down on top of you.

Books hit your head and body, edges digging into your skin. The books fall and hit you, and you don’t know what has become of the shelf they were resting on. Has it fallen with you, or has it remained strong? Was it really old and unsturdy? Or was that simply your impression? You suppose it doesn’t matter. The books fall all the same.

Your eyes fall shut.

———

Your eyes flutter open. Good morning, world.

“Good morning, Grim.”

“It’s 6 PM,” he says.

“Good evening, Grim.”

“Right…”Grim pauses. “Hey, are you feelin’ alright? After ya drank that potion, ya sorta just…passed out. I read the bottle, and it said drowsiness was a side effect, but you were out for hours. I was startinta get real worried, y’know?” You hum, and go to rub the sleepiness from your eyes. When you do, a book is knocked over the side of the bed and falls to the floor. “Huh? Hey, where’d ya get that from?”

“Hm? Oh, I must have picked it up at the library, somehow.” “The library?” “Yeah, the one you showed me earlier.” Grim places a paw on your forehead as if checking for fever. Finding nothing, he pulls back to look at you.

“We don’t have a library.” Ah.

Well, isn’t that something?

“I must be remembering wrong,” you say. You are not nearly as on-edge as you perhaps should be. In fact, you are entirely unconcerned. In your precious panic, had you exhausted all your energy? Or was it something else? The potion that you drank was certainly suspicious. You doubt it could be poison, but that does little to rid it of doubt. It was your only clue as of now, though. That, and the book. Grim appears to be saying something to you, but all you hear is bubbles.

Bubbles flow from his mouth and replace his words. Bubbles float up to your ears and encase them, isolating you in their silence. Bubbles flood your vision and senses. Your head hits a bubble as you fall down onto the mattress, and bubbles fall into your eyes as they shut a final time.

———

Your eyes snap open. Air fills your lungs and darkness fills your vision.

Your head hurts, but you feel better. You are no longer sleepy-eyed and foggy-minded. You are awake and sober.

There’s a book by your side. You can see it clearly, despite the dark (You’ve grown rather used to the dark this past week, you find comfort in it). It’s the same book you had earlier, when you had first woken up. Had you even woken up at all? Perhaps it was all a dream.

Regardless, the book, at least, is not a dream. This book is very much real, as is this Grim, who is curled up and snoozing by your feet. You think that Yuu is real, too. Although you cannot see them. You do not know where they have gone, and you do not think they have woken up. Perhaps Yuu was not real, after all. Perhaps someone has simply moved them.

The book is real. And it is addressed to you.

Yes, you.

Not Yuu, nor ‘The Player’, but you.

Your name, your actual name, was written on the cover. It is unnerving to see your own name after so long. You are not sure who has written this book, but you think you can guess.

There is only one person, after all, who has access to it.

892 notes · View notes

gallusrostromegalus · 1 month

Note

How old's everyone by the time canon bleach rolls around?

Well that's an interesting question that I have devoted way too much thought to.

Most people in soul society age at the normal pace of one year per year, so they only have One Age, but even a tiny excess of spiritual energy can make some age much slower, and in Seireitei, which is full of Spiritually Potent People, most people have two ages- Calendar and Living Age. Calendar is how many years someone has existed, Living is approximately what developmental age they're at. Most Shinigami age at about one year for every 2-5 Lived, with average "died of natural causes and not in the line of duty" lifespans coming to 200-400 years. Power Level has a HEAVY Inverse correlation to aging, but once you hit the power levels associated with Seated officers and captains, things get Weird. Also fatal. Very few captains have died of Natural Causes.

But re: Everyone's ages in June 2000, when the series starts under the cut:

Karakura Gang:

The Kids are not dead yet, so not Subject to the extended lifepsans yet, but I did age everyone up a bit- Ichigo and his Human Friends are all Juniors in High school- age 17... ish.

Ichigo's 18th birthday occurs a couple weeks after he meets Rukia. He was held back from starting Kindergarten for a year because he was too short to reach the drinking fountains.

Chad was tall and his parents were both working full time so his mom persuaded his school to let him in early, so Chad only had his 17th birthday the month before he meets Rukia.

Kon: CA: 132 (9 years in his body) LA: 3, but in cat years, so really more like 22 in human years. An grad student in charge of a pack of teenagers.

Rukia: A Member of the Karakura Gang by association (i.e. my staging notes), Rukia is CA: 73 and LA: 20. She and Renji entered the academy when they were CA:25 and LA: 16. Like many high-powered shinigami, her rate of aging is slowing as she accumulates power, so she will likely live to see at least 500 (unless something happens)

Renji: See: Rukia. Rukia is eight months older than Renji and NEVER lets him forget it.

Kisuke Urahara: CA: 328 LA: 32.4545454545- Urahara is aging at one year for every 11 lived which pleases him because at least once a century his ages will line up and he'll have a straight shot of numbers and that's CLEARLY an excuse to have a MEGA birthday party and give him extra presents! He'll be 333 AND 33 in 2005, so Ichigo should start planning his surprise party!

Yoruichi Shihoin: CA: 329 LA: 28 Yoruichi is 365 days older than Kisuke (He was born in 1672) a leap year) and NEVER lets him forget it.

Isshin Shiba: CA: UUUH- LA: UUUUUUUH- Isshin Shiba was born to the Shiba Clan in 1846, was 154 when he vanished in 1980, appears to be in his mid-forties now, and can only actually REMEMBER the last 20 years of his life with any Clarity. The battle with White left his soul so damaged that when he fused with Masaki, he lost all his spiritual powers and forgot damn near everything- he remembers his given name, the name and face of Kaien Shiba but not how he knows him, that shinigami and hollows exist... but when he overheard Ryuken Ishida lying to the hospital staff that this was his friend from medical school who had been in a terrible car accident, he believed him, and assumed he WAS a doctor that had been in a terrible accident. Masaki was just as frightened of the Shinigami coming after the Quincy. While she could keep her relatives at bay, she couldn't fool the shinigami, so she asked the others to make sure Isshin never tried to return to spirit world... and they went along with it. As far as Isshin knows, Urahara was a guy he worked for as a teenager who helped him set up shop as a doctor after the accident. Yoruichi really is someone he used to be on the intramural volleyball team with back in college. Shinji is some guy who knew his parents, and decided to stay a friend of the family even after after they died in the accident. He and Masaki were married in a beautiful ceremony some weeks ago... Shame they lost all the pictures... Ichigo's promotion to Substitute Shinigami and the confrontation about "You used to be a CAPTAIN?? Why didn't you warn me and the twins about anything???" is one HELL of a shock for him.

Soul Society:

Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto: CA: 2,146 LA: 75 He was enjoying a Long Prime Middle Age until his Divorce in 1196, at which point he went bald, went gray and lost a significant amount of his muscle mass in under a decade, and has looked like an Old Man since.

Chojiro Sasakibe: CA: 1,358 LA: 66 (debated). Chojiro was barely 100 years old when he turned up at Yamamoto's Post Officer Self-Defense Dojo and refused to leave. His Lived Age is a secret known only to Unohana- the debate rages because Sasakibe was born with his Silver Fox hair, and with that removed, shows very little signs of aging. He insists he "-Just keep myself very well." and refuses to elaborate. He has a standing agreement with the SWA that his LA over various years may be revealed after he dies, so they may let people lay bets, on the condition that they give him a percentage when laid to support his Black Tea Habit.

---

Soi Fon: CA: 201 LA: 29 Soi Fon has genetically terrific skin and if her mother is any indication, she'll look like a twentysomething until she hits menopause. THEN she'll look like a Silver Fox.

Marechiyo Omaeda: CA: 102 LA: 24 Omaeda has only been Lieutenant for 14 years, taking over the position early after his father (the previous 2nd Division lieutenant) had an extremely unexpected stroke. He's recovering well, but doesn't want to return because he's so proud of Marechiyo.

---

Ichimaru Gin: CA:DEBATABLE, but at least 357 LA: 21 Gin has several days that *could* count as his "Birthday" but he's existed in his current body for as long as Rangiku has known him.

Rojuro "Rose" Otoribashi: CA: 312 LA: 37 Rose was promoted to captain a bare 2 years ago when TBTP happens, and is considered Young for a captain. In terms of Living Age, he's one of the oldest Visored.

Izuru Kira: CA: 89 LA: 23 He was a bit older than Rukia and Renji in CA and LA when he entered the Academy. He could have entered sooner but he was the sole caregiver for both his parents, who died premature deaths of chronic illnesses.

---

Retsu Unohana: CA: 804 LA: "As old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth." According to the official records, Retsu Unohana enrolled in Shin'o Academy in 1198, and when asked her age, said "I became as I am last year" Which the intake officer interpreted to mean that she died and appeared as an adult in Spirit World in 1197, and she has absolutely failed to correct that misconception. Or update the public records regarding her age.

Yachiru Unohana: CA 1,497 LA: 37 To her credit, Unohana DID die when she was 17 and appeared in the afterlife at the age she died at. Then she barely aged by the time Yamamoto recruited her in 998. She served as Kenpachi of the 11th Divisison for 199 years, until her battle with an as-yet-unnamed young man in 1197. Shortly after her 200th year as Kenpachi passed, she came to terms with the fact she was no longer the fighter she was, and fell in battle to her lieutenant. With that, "Yachiru" Unohana died, and the following day she enrolled in the academy under the name Retsu to study medicine.

Isane Koetetsu: CA: 282 LA: 28 Isane and her sister Kiyone are unusual for Shinigami in that the Koetesu clan has some of the slowest-aging shinigami in it, and the slowed aging STARTS as infants. Isane couldn't even enroll in Shin'o Academy until her 100th birthday, and even then she needed special dispensation to let what was functionally a 10-year old take college classes.

Hanataro Yamada: CA: 141 LA: 23 Hanataro is the younger brother of Former 4th div Lieutenant Seinosuke Yamada, who now runs the Seireitei Medical Center i.e. The Rich Bitch Hospital. Hanataro entered the academy at a very young age like Isane and graduated with honors, but people tend to compare him to his more accomplished older brother, which both of them think is Unfair seeing as Seinosuke is a whole 112 years older than him. Hanatarou started in the 4th division at the tender age of 42/14, and some of the other medics decided to prank the lieutenant's baby brother by sending him to do the initial medical checkup of newly-appointed 11th division captain Zaraki. When he failed to return for six hours, Seinosuke went into a panicked rage and ran to the 11th, ready to make Zaraki the shortest-serving captain ever if need be, only to discover Hanataro patiently vaccinating and enthusiastic Zaraki for EVERYTHING, a process that was taking a while because Zaraki's spiritual pressure kept breaking the needles. Hanataro has been the 11th Division Pocket Medic ever since, to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure. Zaraki encouraged his interest in Toxicology by bringing him dozens of venomous snakes to milk while on field expeditions, also much to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure.

---

Sosuke Aizen: CA: 432 LA: 47 Aizen was born an identical twin, but was the only brother to inherit any spiritual powers. The boy's mother was caught and killed by an enraged shopkeep stealing food to feed a half-starving Sosuke when they were young children. The boys managed to get jobs in another city working at a candy store, and did so well that the owner left the store to them when he retired. Sosuke's marketing talents and Sosato's culinary skills made "My Brother's Candy" a wild success, and soon they were opening franchise stores, and became popular minor celebrities in their district. Sosuke even married and had children- and grand children, and was an active member of his district government and merchants council, personally opening up several schools and water treatment facilities. Then, shortly after he and Sosato celebrated their 88th birthday, tragedy struck. There was a massive flood that lead to a massive crop failure that lead to a massive disease outbreak, which lead to major political upheaval, which lead to Sosuke and his brother having to flee their home. Unfortunately, Sosato dearly loved his brother, and when the hail of arrows came down on them from the soldiers pursing the civilians, Sosato decided that he was near the end of his life anyway, while Sosuke- still functionally in his 20's- had so much to live for, and put himself between his brother and the onslaught. And so Sosuke Aizen went from Revered Councilor, Celebrated Candymaker, beloved Great-grandfather and Twin to an Exile and the sole survivor of his name. He joined the Shinigami, determined to make the Soul Society a better place where what happened to him would never happen again- only to discover that he was at the mercy of a corrupt and incompetent government, and worse, an apparently uncaring God. Until one night when he had a dream- all the pieces of his study of Kido came together and he realized there WAS a way to fix all this- He just had to become God. With that, Gin slithered away into the night and deep into the far districts, so he could assume a human form and forge an identity Aizen wouldn't question when they met back up again.

Shinji Hirako: CA: 412 LA: 31 Shinji genuinely thought he could get away with impersonating a high schooler to spy on Ichigo- after all, he still looked like he was what, 22? With the right clothes and some recent slang- "Why is there some creepy old guy wearing the school uniform?" Ichigo asks his friends the second he sees Shinji. "He looks like some kind of weird hipster who's trying to relive his youth." Sighs Mizurio. "-Or a really deluded pervert who thinks he can sneak into the locker room." says Tatsuki, cracking her knuckles. "He doesn't look THAT old-" Keigo protests, and there is the briefest glimmer of hope for Shinji's Ego. "-Maybe he's some kind of super-senior who got held back a bunch because he's dumb as a brick." Shinji crumples to the ground, defeated by the direct hits to his insecurities.

Hinamori Momo: CA: 66 LA: 26 Momo has an extreme case of babyface but is secretly ripped under her uniform and well on her way to MILFdom from the waist down. The first time Hiyori sees her in shorts is a psychological and spiritual awakening.

Hiyori Sarugaki: CA: 126 LA: 20 Hiyori is the youngest Living Age and slowest-aging visored. She gets mad about her youthful appearance but also uses it to get children's discounts at theme parks.

---

Byakuya Kuchiki: CA: 181 LA: 26 Byakuya was married quite young, and Widowed soon after. He's still in his prime, and exceptionally hale for a Kuchiki- Despite the exceptional spiritual power of the clan, the centuries of inbreeding have given them severe health issues and very short lifespans for their power. Byakuya's grandfather Ginrei only lived to 486, and his father Sojun died at 200 from Hemophillia. Byakuya is still working up the nerve to tell Rukia that she will likely outlive him by a considerable margin, and the fact that Rukia hasn't got a nibling to spoil was His medical problem, not Hisana's.

---

Sajin Komamura: CA: 712 LA: 22 Komamura is somehow both Older AND Younger than everyone thinks he is, and that's not even getting into the "Wait, is that in human years or wolf years?" Debacle. When Yamamoto met Sajin for the first time in the 1400's he was extremely impressed with the giant warriors skill and courage, and before Sajin had a chance to greet him properly, asked the warrior to join his Academy. "I- I'm really old but I'm actually eight." came the voice of a small boy from behind the helmet and Yamamoto had to go stand with his face pressed into the wall for a minute.

Love Aikawa: CA:345 LA:33 Love Aikawa is one of the few shinigami who came into his spiritual powers so fast that he did NOT have a creer before becoming a Shinigami.

Tetsuzaemon Iba: CA: 154 LA: 30 Testsuzaemon was still a small boy when Komamura was appointed to the third seat of the first division, and got to know his mother Chikane Iba. Chikane worked extremely hard, but held Yamamoto in high regard, and Komamura in similar regard by extension. So now Tetsuzaemon is lieutenant to a man he still secretly thinks of as his "Favorite Babysitter".

---

Shunsui Kyoraku: CA: 856 LA: 48 Shunsui was forced to join the academy before his 100th birthday by his noble family because they had not actually planned on actually having a third son survive to adulthood and didn't really know what to do with him. Both Shunsui and Ukitake are old enough to remember when Unohana was still Yachiru, and Shut The Fuck Up about that fact.

Nanao Ise: CA: 141 LA: 28 When she first arrives in Seireitei, Yachiru Kusajishi is LA Eight, and quickly makes friends with Nanao, who is the other little girl close to her age with spiritual powers: "You're my baby sister now, but you'll be my Big sister sooner than later." Yachiru explained. "What do you mean?" Nanao blinked at her. "You're what, Living Age Seven, right?" Yachiru asked, squinting at her. "Yeah, but I'm really Forty-One!" Nanao insisted. It bothered her when people refused to take her seriously because of her age. "Right. I'm like Living Age Eight, so I'm your big sister. But I'm actually Four hundred and six." "…What?" Nanao gaped. "but, but that means you must be aging at…" She frowned, trying to do long division in her head. "-I age about one year for every fifty lived, yeah." "You- oh god." Nanao realized. "You outlive everyone you know." "Not everyone! Ken-chan and I are both aging at the same pace." Yachiru explained, wobbling a bit as she walked the log over the creek. "I guess I'm lucky- there aren't that many of us who age this slow so most of us don't have anybody who's really a 'life-long' companion, and I might be only one with a parent that's got a similar lifespan!" She grinned. "I age at about one for five, so in- ...in less than ten years I'll be older than you." Nanao hummed with concern. "Yep! But until then, you have to do everything your Big Sister says!" Yachiru grinned.

Lisa Yadomaru: CA: 427 LA: 36 Even though they're not REMOTELY related, Lisa bonded very strongly to Nanao when she was Shunsui's lieutenant. This causes some dispute with Yachiru when she returns to Soul Society because according to yachiru, Nanao is her Little Big Sister, owing to the difference in CA, to therefore Lisa is her Big-Big Little Sister, and Lisa thinks she doesn't have to support Yachiru's Candy Habit.

---

Kaname Tousen: Calendar age: 499 LA: 32 After the events of the Winter War, during which Kaname turned 500, Kaname disputes that he is only 350, because he spent the last 150 years under Aizen's Curse and "-You call that living?" Everyone (except Sajin) regularly forgets when Kaname's birthday is because he doesn't celebrate it- it was also his sister Kakiyo's birthday and he hasn't really felt like 'celebrating' since she was murdered, and Ichigo is the first person to REALLY understand his feelings on the matter, his own mother dyind so close to his birthday and how visiting her Memorial wasn't exactly a celebration, but it wasn't exactly mourning either.

Shuuhei Hisagi: CA:119 LA: 27 Renji entered the Academy the year Shuuhei was due to Graduate and still thinks of Shuuhei as his "Senpai". Shuuhei entered the academy the same year Rangiku was due to graduate, and still thinks of her as his "Senpai". Renji once called Rangiku his "Grand-Senpai" She and Shuuhei both beat him with shoes about it.

Kensei Muguruma: CA:469 LA: 29 Kensei supports Kaname's declaration that he's only 350 because finding out Kaname is older than him brings up all the insecurities Kensei developed from being the MUCH younger brother to five sisters, and he can't handle being "The Baby" again.

Mashiro Kuna: CA: 506 LA: 25 It took 47 rounds of Janken with Yachiru for Mashiro to finally be the first to get to three victories and declare herself The Biggest Sister. She also saw Kensei's meltdown about Kaname being older than him and is quietly holding onto the fact she's older than both of them until the moment it will cause her beloved captain the maximum amount of Psychological Damage.

---

Rangiku Matsumoto: CA: 357 LA: 29 Rangiku measures her Calendar Age from the date she appeared in Soul Society at age 14, which is an accepted practice, but sometimes people want to add their years in the living world as well. Rangiku supports Kaname's claim to be 350 because they let HER knock 14 years off her CA for an even more arbitrary reason, and also it means she doesn't have to get him a belated 500th Birthday gift for another 150 years.

Toshiro Hitsugaya: CA: 60 LA: 12 Hitsugaya is FAR AND AWAY the youngest Shinigami to achieve a seated officer's position by any age, and this was 100% done as a political maneuver by Yamamoto. Hitsugaya is no Slouch- he graduated salutatorian of his class and is the youngest person ever to achieve Bankai, but Yamamoto slapped him into the lieutenant's position 20 years ago (Hitsugaya graduated within weeks of Isshin Shiba's Disappearance) SPECIFICALLY to put Rangiku between him and any unscrupulous noble houses looking to forcibly adopt him/marry him to a spare heir/straight-up kidnap Hitsugaya to prop up their failing genetic lines. One of the clans tried it anyway and the resulting smoking crater where the clan compound used to be put the fear of Haineko into everyone and has so far discouraged further attempts.

---

Kenpachi Zaraki: CA: 1,477* LA: 42 Like Gin, Zaraki has several dates that could count as the start of his existence, but when asked how old he was at the first moon-viewing party he went to- "...How d'ya guys measure that?" Zaraki asked, studying Shunsui with his good eye in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "Uh- well, for most people, it's when you were Born in Soul Society, but if you died and appeared here it's the day you first existed in Soul Society." he explained, feeling like he was missing an important dimension to the question. "Oh! In that case I'm- wait, shit. What day is it today?" "It's November 18th." Unohana smiled. "Ah, fuck! With all the chaos I forgot-!" Zaraki laughed. "Turned 1,377 last Monday." The assembled Shinigami all stared blanky, save for Unohana, who appeared to be trying to not laugh into her cup. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard that correctly..?" Jushiro asked, entirely sure he had. "One Thousand Three Hundred Seventy-Seven." Zaraki repeated slowly, grin cracking across his face. "-Can't say I've done as good a job lookin' after myself as Sasakibe here though." "I- good heavens! The only person you're younger than is Yamamoto himself!" Aizen exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. Zaraki frowned at that for a moment and then nodded. "...If you say so." Unohana made a small snuffling noise as she tried to not snort sake up her nose laughing. "How old are YOU, Mr. Glasses?" Yachiru asked. "Hm? Oh, I'm 332! And how old are y-" Aizen began to reply before he was interrupted by Yachiru jabbing her finger into the tip of his nose, cackling. "HAH! you're seventy- uh- seventy four years younger than me! You're a little baby man!" She clapped her hands with glee. "Unohana-sama? Are you alright?" Ukitake asked as the chief medic coughed suddenly. "I'm having a great time!" She wheezed, eyes watering from accidentally inhaling her drink.

Yachiru Kusajishi: CA: 506 LA: 10 Yachiru was Very Loved by her parents. Zaraki tells her this. When he found her, he found her in an otherwise abandoned house, with her parents, who had obviously died protecting her from the late-winter cold snap. She was still in her mother and father's arms when he came to investigate her cries. Her parents were wearing kimono that had the bottom third cut off, just above their knees, even though it was the middle of winter. She was wearing a double-layered baby Kimono made of the fabric they had cut off, to make sure she stayed warm. He took her into the nearest village, in hopes someone there could nurse her and tell him what her name was. She was lucky- there was a woman nursing her own daughter who agreed to take on her as well. But the Village elder hung his head in shame- he knew the couple the vagrant described- they lived far up the mountain, and only went by the name "Kusajishi", the name of the district, as was the style of many poor and illiterate farmers. They only came down from their farm once or twice a year to sell the special herbs they grew up there- the elder had seen the woman pregnant, but they had not come down to tell him the girl's name for the village records. So that day, the vagrant became Kenpachi Zaraki, and gave to her the name Yachiru as any parent should name their child, and the name Kusajishi, after the parents that loved her so. She only ever calls her adopted father Ken-chan, and is the only person who is allowed to call him that, because a parent should be called something special by their child. In deference to her parent's sacrifice, she does not call him "father". That was another man, who died for her. Zaraki does not lie to Yachiru, ever. Everything he told her about how they met is true. He has omitted one detail from the story, however. Her parents died from the cold snap because they had to be at least eighty, and not blessed with spiritual power like her. She had outlived her parents as an infant. And after speaking to the village elder about how, to his shame, he'd never managed to ask the little girl's name, even since he was a little boy, and failed to send anyone up there to check on the family, The vagrant with no name sat near the fire in the village hall, holding the little girl with no name. He thought about how terribly lonely it was, to not have a name. and how lucky he was that he had a mother who also had an extremely long lifespan that was able to live through raising him, and that he could still visit and speak to. and how unlucky this little girl was, that she did not. "How d'ya get a name?" the vagrant asked the village elder. "Well, here you just tell me what your name is, and I write it down in the village records." the elder said, watching him with curiosity. "...if I tell you a name, will you show me how to write it?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Of course." The elder nodded. The vagrant was silent for a while. "Then her name is Yachiru Kusajishi." Said the vagrant. "...And yours?" The elder asked, picking up the record book and inkstone. "Mine?" the vagrant asked. "You're giving her a name because she hasn't got anyone else to do it, aren't you?" The elder asked, gaze steady. "If you name something, it's your responsibility forever, and you're going to have to be responsible for yourself if you're going to be responsible for her." The Vagrant considered this for a while. "My name-" he started and stopped, throat clicking like he was literally choking on the words. "-My name for her is Kenpachi Zaraki."

---

Mayuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 132 LA: 267 Mayuri is the only shinigami aging faster than the expected rate. This is because he escaped from Hell, and Hell would very much like to get his ass back there ASAP.

Nemuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 20 LA: 20 Nemu has been twenty for twenty years now, ever since she was pulled from the goo of her incubation tube by her father Mayuri, and will be 20 for the foreseeable future. The static lack of aging is something Mayuri hopes to fix in future drafts- Nemu is the seventh Nemuri, and the most successful one so far- She's the second Nemuri to actually make it out of her incubation tube, and the first to survive more than a year, but Nemuri Hachigo is already developing in the basement of the 12th in case something happens to her. The knowledge of her 'Little Sister' is something that brings Nemu comfort, like already knowing what you're going to be reincarnated as. "That's really fucked up." Says Uryuu Ishida in the rubble of Las Noches as she puts his intestines back inside his thorax where they belong. He's on a lot of drugs he'd like to know less about. "-It's also kind of cute. In a away. but really fucked up."

Kirio Hikifune: CA: 617 LA: 35 Kirio is one of a handful of people in on Unohana's double identity, but would NEVER betray her beloved Senpai's personal information! She served under Unohana in the fourth and developed her flesh-to-food technique with Unohana's help.

Tama Nikuya: CA: 1,477 LA: 26 Despite being the same age as Zaraki and Unohana and was aging at the same slow rate, the process that turned her into a Puca also caused her to go into bio-hell-fuckery that has effectively stopped her from aging at all. Or rather, she IS aging but every time she dies, she reappears as the LA age she was when she underwent The Flesh Change. She says the process is not infinite- she WILL eventually run out of spare lives, and if she manages to live long enough to die of old age in this body, she will NOT respawn at all. Also- it HURTS! She does die, which hurts, and comes back, which hurts EVEN MORE, and each time she comes back, she's confronted with the prospect of either outling all her friends or putting them through a similar hell to stay together. All in all, DO NOT ATTEMPT. I am speaking to you specifically, Kisuke. Akon Akon: CA: 119 LA: 27 Akon only has the one name but the archives don't like that so he uses it Twice. He was imprisoned without trial in the Maggot's nest for being part Yokai when he was a small child, and sprung to work in R&D By Mayuri shortly after Urahara's disappearence. He's friends with Yachiru and Nanao because there weren't hat many kids in the social circles of the Gotei-13's upper ranks, and all three of them shared a mutual interest in the Dinosaurs that were being discovered at the time. He's friends with Shuuhei because he was forced to take Remedial "if you work in the 12th instead of just R&D you need to actually know how to be a shinigami" classes the same year Shuuhei was accepted to the academy and they were dorm mates. Akon intermittendly draws weird one-panel cartoons for the Seireitei bulletin under a pen name, often about strange scientific jokes and on one notable occasion, bovine anthropological artifacts.

---

Jushiro Ukitake: CA: 857 LA: 44 Ukitake is genuinely unsure if, when or HOW he will die, given that he is host to a Divine Being. Once that particular cat is out of the bag, it gives him something to commiserate about with Tama. Already, Shunsui is starting to outpace his age- is he doomed to bury his friend? or will circumstance force Mimihagi to consume him entirely? Mimihagi is sympathetic- the Left Hand of God is also not sure what this fusion entails for him- it's possible that if Jushiro dies by any other means besides Mimihagi consuming him, that Mimihagi will die with him, and neither is sure what kind of impact that might have on the universe at large. Still, if it weren't for Mimihagi's intervention, Jushiro wouldn't have this time at all, and Mimihagi will never have had these experiences, so neither regrets the choice they made, regardless of how it ends.

Hachigen Ushoda: CA: 278 LA: 32. Hachigen is appearing under the 13th Division because the Kido Corps got absorbed into the 13th while he was away. Hachi consistently fools people into thinking he's way older than he actually is because he has to tailor-make all his clothes for his massive frame, so why NOT go all the way and make something Special for all this effort?

...this post is already three miles long, I'll do the Arrancar and Quincy next.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #Long Post #not kidding HELLA long post #There are more than 40 names to tag #I ain't doin' that shit #read for your fave tho everyone has a Fun Fact (TM)

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ranticore · 2 months

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hits u with my dragon beam

tha boys and their dragons from the au i am self-indulgently messing with. green, bronze, and brown. these are scaled to their actual sizes relative to one another & their riders.

reasoning/more info under the cut. when i say 'niche audience' i mean the approximately One Person who knows my characters and has also read a pern book (me. i'm the one person it's me)

Féiix is a green rider obvs. I think it's really generous of dragons to have a colour specifically for bottoms. Her name is Searrath and she ends up committing matricide by stubbornly rising at the same time as queen Lenath, to protest the weyrwoman's abusive treatment of her rider. Searrath is legendarily short-tempered and protective, and although her rider might continually reassure her that his arrangement with the weyrwoman (as her personal spy; he is an ex-harper) is healthy, Searrath has other ideas. She is quite good at precise hops between, which is how she manages to bait Lenath into flying head first into a mountainside.

Islin's bronze Taranth is very big, very gentle, and completely unwilling to do his duty as a bronze in any capacity at all. He has a... complicated relationship with Lenath and endures a good amount of ridicule, but Islin is adamant that he will never make a bid for weyrleader as this involves sleeping with the weyrwoman and queen (he'll settle for being wingleader). A strong disagreement over Félix's spywork and loyalty to Lenath leads Islin and Taranth to walk out from their weyr, and operate out of a different base for years before Lenath ultimately dies from failing to compete with Searrath on a mating flight. He is the only bronze rider who is not originally from a weyr.

Francis's brown Nelath was almost killed by Lenath when he hatched. As the son of the newly-ousted ex-weyrleader, Francis could have easily impressed a bronze and ousted the current weyrleader, so the weyrwoman conspired to prevent it from happening. Lenath broke Nelath's leg during the hatching, and only the invervention of Francis's father's bronze saved both himself and the injured hatchling from what appeared to be the queen's random fit of infanticidal rage. Nelath recovered well and became a very popular brown dragon and an impressively good shot with his flames. He has attempted several times to chase a queen (usually one of the juniors, still a little wary of Lenath), and has even succeeded more than once. Francis and Nelath support one of those junior queens during an attempted ousting of Lenath and the weyrwoman, but never expected that Félix's loyalty to the weyrwoman would separate them for years (until Lenath goes out carcrash style against a mountainside, as previously mentioned)

It's my first time trying to write a full conspiracy over the course of the characters' lifetimes so it's pretty fun!

#sorry it's literally impossible to make this make sense to anyone but me. take my word for it okay #mvf

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adaginy · 3 months

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The Big Guide to Humans: Home Planet

Humans come from a small, rocky planet, called Terra or Earth or some other translation of "dirt," where they lived on the land surface despite the planet being mostly covered (area and volume) by water. They do, however, measure temperature in a scale based approximately on the freezing and boiling points of water (at their average atmospheric pressure), set to 0 and 100. As with "years" (see lifespan and development), your local human can probably tell you the conversion to local measurements, if the knowledge is not in your local storage and the numbers are not being converted automatically by your translation dock. The planet's rotational axis is tilted relative to its orbital plane, resulting in "seasons," a predictable progression of local temperatures between local lows to local highs and back over the course of an orbit, despite its nearly round trajectory. This is in addition to the smaller temperature changes of the day/night cycle. Terran weather temperatures range from -90, below the freezing point of radon, to 60, nearly the boiling point of bromine, though humans mostly live where the weather over the course of a year ranges between -20 to 45.

Humans infamously breathe oxygen, but Terra's atmosphere is actually mostly nitrogen. The 23% oxygen concentration is enough for fires to sustain easily, assuming fuel and initial ignition, but low enough that fires smother nearly immediately when fully covered. Terra's rotation and heat from Sol combine to cause a predictable pattern of convection known as prevailing winds. Winds are often strong enough to move light objects without causing damage, not uncommonly strong enough to make it difficult for humans to move against it, or stronger, and sometimes strong enough to cause damage to buildings. This is in addition to regional threats of "extreme" winds, most notably tornadoes (fast-moving, localized funnels of winds strong enough rip buildings apart and fling heavy objects) and cyclones (weaker than a tornado, but traveling slowly and raining so copiously that shelters are also damaged by water).

Having such copious rain that buildings are damaged can happen outside of a cyclone, as well. While humans can swim surprisingly well for a non-liquid-dwelling species, this water has usually picked up so many contaminants that it is capable of overwhelming a human's immune system if it enters their body via their mouth or damaged skin.

Alternately, little or no water may fall on an area that does not usually experience water scarcity. The resulting "drought" kills plants and animals that cannot be moved. This is less predictable, but takes multiple years to come into effect. A vegetated area facing drought, however, is at particular risk for a wild fire, a fire that becomes too large and fast-moving to be smothered. Areas as big as residential ships can burned before the fire runs out of fuel or is able to be drenched.

Terra's planetary surface is made up of several pieces of "crust" floating on top of its liquid center. At the edges of these pieces, or at cracks in the pieces, huge pieces of crust can be forced upward or buckle under the pressure. Done slowly, so slowly no one notices, this produces mountains. Done quickly, it produces "earth quakes." Some earth quakes can only be sensed by sensors, but others cause buildings to shake apart. Humans know where these edges are and, instead of not building there, they design buildings that are able to resist being shaken. If the locus of the shaking is near or under the ocean, it can cause a fast-moving, towering wave called a "tsunami." An average tsunami is capable of obliterating buildings when it reaches shore, and then sucking any survivors into the ocean when it recedes (with strength far past even the best human swimmers). As with earth quakes, humans design buildings to survive being struck by this wall of water. The same edges and cracks also produce volcanoes, places where the earth's liquid center oozes or bursts out of the ground. This liquid will be at temperatures of 700 or more, above the melting temperature of radium and on past the the melting temperature of gold. It can cause fires when it touches things in addition to being so heavy and/or voluminous that it covers items in its path. Humans generally do not build very close to volcanoes that are frequently or explosively active. However, if a volcano is only likely to erupt once or twice within a human lifespan, or tends to ooze rather than burst, they will simply use several sensors to know when it will happen so they can get out of the way. Because they all originate in the same geological source, it is common to have two of these crack-based issues at once and not unusual to have all three.

Sometimes, rain falls in tiny frozen pieces, covering the ground in a layer of ice chips. Sometimes it falls in large rocks of ice, breaking and shattering what it strikes. Sometimes the temperature is anomalously hot or cold in places where the wildlife and human dwellings are not adapted to those temperatures. Sometimes massive sparks of electricity shoot from the sky to the ground. Sometimes the side of a mountain — or the ice chips piled on the side of the mountain — will fall off and slide down, burying and crushing everything in the way. Sometimes erosion under the surface will cause the surface to give way, leaving a hole in the ground big enough to swallow a person or a building. Sometimes the liquid inside Terra doesn't burst through the surface, but super-heats water until it does. While none of these features are unique to Terra, even among inhabited planets, it is uncommon for an inhabited planet to have so many of these features and it is nearly unique among humans to choose to live in afflicted areas. It can be helpful to understand, when one is wondering why humans and other life from their planet are "like that," that life only evolved on Terra once* and then experienced a burst of population up to and beyond local carrying capacities. Every species, including the plants, shares a common ancestor, and every creature that was ever born (hatched, sprouted, divided, etc) faced immediate competition from other, similar creatures. The ability to run faster, eat weirder, live hardier, spread farther provided an immediate benefit. Furthermore, in addition to the horrors described in this chapter of this guide, in Terra's planetary history there are multiple near-extinction-level events — new chemosynthetic species producing upheavals in the atmospheric gas balance, an asteroid strike, massive volcanic eruptions choking the air with ash and blocking energy from Sol — that further pressed evolution. Terra, truly, has earned its reputation as a death world — but less so for the life that has formed there.

*there is a long-standing idea that cephalopods may have originated separately, but this is really only taken seriously by the Chiparsen, who used to colonize via panspermia. While the Unified Government no longer accepts this as a valid territorial claim, the Chiparsen still hope to prove relation in order to put forth a diplomatic demand that Terrans remove cephalopods from their diet.

#Big Guide to Humans #addie writes #humans are space orcs #I am much more willing to believe in standardized length/area units than I am in standardized time/temperature units #I keep rechecking the radon thing #it doesn't sound true but apparently it is #earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia

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nnight-dances · 10 months

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FADE INTO YOU ˚₊☆ ‧₊˚

[a sequel to REPETITION / RARE LOVE]

Mingyu, your best friend turned lover, is possibly the best thing that's happened to you. But as you juggle a rigorous summer internship and pressure from home, you start to spiral. Overworked and isolated, you're spiraling and the cherry on top: you overhear Mingyu say some things that have you convinced he's tired of you. Fighting takes on a different meaning now that you aren't just a couple of besties and heartache is possibly inevitable.

PAIRING: kim mingyu x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, some suggestive content toward the end

TROPES: unhealthy working habits, miscommunication or rather lack of communication, mean mother, hurt/comfort question mark, you're on your period as well as sick at one point, arguing and conflict :/

WORD COUNT: 6.5k approximately

"So, how's it going with Mingyu?"

"It is…" you trail off as you poke at the discarded pizza crust on your plate, "...going well."

Yunjin's smile retracts at your hesitant pause. "What's wrong?"

"I never said anything was wrong. On the contrary, if you were listening to what I just said–"

"That pause was at least three seconds long. Three seconds, Y/N! That's the first sign!"

You frown, "The first sign of what?"

"A fight. You're fighting with Mingyu, aren't you?"

"I mean, fighting is what we do. Most of our relationship is based on the other's ability to be a witty bastard." You scoff uneasily. "I think we'd be in trouble if we weren't fighting."

"You and I both know that's not what I meant," Yunjin sighs at your antics. "I'm talking about a real fight."

"...No. We're fine, Yunjin, you're worrying over nothing."

Though she drops the topic thereafter, you can tell by the way she bids you goodbye, leaving with a sneaky "make up with Mingyu before it's too late!!!" that she's not convinced. On the ride back home, you stare at your phone as you go over the conversation again and again. Biting your lip, you wonder why Yunjin had been inclined to think that you were fighting with Mingyu in the first place, anyway.

The thought, though not unsurprising, was a little out of place in your head.

Truth be told, all isn't well with you.

You'd been having a couple of rough weeks and it had a lot to do with the fact that you'd chosen to not go back home for the summer, choosing to stay in your college town to pursue an internship there instead. While the internship itself was overwhelming at times, at the end of the day, you felt more fulfilled than ever. However, the consequences of you not visiting your family had you rubbing your temples more often than not every time you fielded a call from one of your parents.

And though you'd told them that the only reason you weren't back home was your internship, there was more to it than that. For one, as much you missed basking in the attention of your parents and showering your sweet dog with love, you also were actively avoiding the suffocation of home: the prying questions about your future career, the insanely invasive relatives who would no doubt leave snide remarks in their wake, and of course, everyone's reactions to your best friend to lovers arc with Kim Mingyu.

You'd been renting a place with Mingyu over these few months because he, too, had decided to stay back to take a summer class and study in advance for some difficult courses next semester. Most days, it was everything you'd wanted: waking up to a warm bed and the sound of Mingyu snoring into your neck, slow breakfasts cooked mostly by Mingyu while you clung to his waist, and long days at the desk in front of your computer. Well, the last part wasn't ideal but every time your supervisor assigned you a new, more advanced task, you couldn't help but feel proud of yourself.

However, some days weren't as dreamy as you'd hoped they would be. To begin with, the past week had you waking up with heavy eyelids, perhaps something to do with the late nights you'd been pulling to finish your work, and an empty bed. Mingyu's class had started meeting earlier thanks to the heat in the afternoons, which meant you were left to fend for yourself during breakfast. Head heavy, you'd drag yourself to eat some sloppy cereal and get to work: somewhat manageable of a day.

But today as you're swirling through your bowl of muesli to pick out some raisins, your phone buzzes on the table. If the sudden sound doesn't startle you, the name on the screen definitely has your heart beating a little bit faster: it's your mother. You're already dreading the conversation.

"Hello?"

"Did you just wake up?" comes your mother's voice, her tone already hostile. Great.

"Um, yeah, I woke up like half an hour ago. Why?"

"...Nothing. It's just I thought you were really busy with classes."

"Mom, I've told you it's not class, it's an internship. Two very different things." You inhale deeply to calm yourself. When she asks you if you've eaten, you tell her you're currently having some muesli. Ignoring the scoff that she lets out, you ask her about her day, a question that she gives her usual vague answer to. You try to engage with her rationally, intent on getting some cordial connection with her.

But honestly, it's no use, your mother's set on picking you apart today and so she does, especially when you let it slide that Mingyu's at class.

"In class? Already? Y/N, you should learn a thing or two from him. Just because you're dating him doesn't mean you can slack off like this, okay? I don't want to see you become lazy over some man. I don't care how rich–"

You cut her off, afraid of what you might have to hear if you didn't. "Mom. I can't believe you're making this a competition! I'm not making an enemy out of my boyfriend because you want me to."

Your stomach lurches at how high-pitched your voice sounds to your own ears, vision blurring somewhere along the way. "Fine. If you're gonna scream at me every time I call you, I might as well stop."

"Mom–" She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at the fading screen with her contact photo on it. It was a picture of the two of you, with you grinning as she leaned in to peck your cheek. It was maybe one of your favorite photos, especially when you came to associate it with phone calls with your mother, something that used to be a comfort amidst the chaos of your life. Now, you weren't so sure as you rested your forehead against the wooden table, eyes swimming with unshed tears. You blink them away, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, because despite everything, you didn't have the time to cry over this.

So slowly, you pick yourself, wiping at your cheeks. You move on in your day, washing your dishes as well as Mingyu's from earlier this morning. You shower, and pat your face with skincare, find a shirt that doesn't remind you of home, and take a seat at your workstation in the living room. Headphones on your ears, the reminder of your fight with your mother slowly fades away as you begin working.

Despite everything, you found yourself thinking later that afternoon as you refilled your water bottle, you were so grateful for Mingyu and the stability that he brought you, whether it be as a friend or as a roommate. It was with this reliance on him that you pushed yourself through the day. So when he came back from class, more sullen than usual, you find yourself instantly unsettled.

"Gyu?" you call out, removing your headphones when the jingling of keys catches your attention. The big guy stoops in the hallway, removing his shoes and outerwear before stepping in. He makes eye contact and the soft smile he shoots you, you can tell, is forced. You're standing up, "Hey, you're late today. Everything okay?"

"Not at all. Prof kept us back late to throw extra credit stuff at us. It's ridiculous but I needed it, so I stayed back." You nod in understanding as you walk to him in the kitchen, watching as he washes his hand and pours himself cold water. "It was worst though, babe, I kept falling asleep."

You match the pout on his lips when he finally meets you at the kitchen counter, hands finding your waist as you press yourself into him. "Hmm, sorry to hear that, Gyu. Did you not sleep much last night?"

"No, it's real weird. I kept waking up in the middle of the night. And every position I slept in was so uncomfortable. Plus, I kept thinking I was gonna wake you up on accident."

"Ha, and since when have you cared about my sleep?" you chuckle into his chest, "Just wake me up next time and we can have hot cocoa or something."

Mingyu hums in appreciation around you, "I'll make you regret that offer tonight."

You hit him when you separate, eyes trailing back to your workspace and Mingyu catches on as his hands tighten around ever so slightly. Eyes desperate, he asks, "You wanna watch a movie tonight? I can order some fried chicken."

You light up momentarily and then are instantly reminded of the deadline that awaits you in a few days. Mingyu notices you stiffen a little and you sigh. "I have that stupid report due on Friday, Gyu," you whine.

"Can't you take a break for a while? You've been working so hard lately." Mingyu brushes your hair back, his thumb rubbing at your jaw gently. "You deserve some time off." When you seem to remain in your rumination period, Mingyu presses a peck on your lips. "Please?"

You groan as you playfully push him away, "God, I hate it when you're physically affectionate as a way to entice me into doing things with you."

"So movie night's on?"

"...Are you ordering the chicken or should I?"

"Hehe, I love you."

"Ew, stop, Gyu, go take a shower!!"

As you steer Mingyu toward your shared bedroom, you make your way back to your desk, invigorated by the promise you've made to Mingyu to finish as much as you can for tonight. The motivation's enough to push you into the zone as you go through your notes and begin typing away.

You don't realize how much time's passed until you feel Mingyu's cold hands press against your collarbones. You jump at the sudden touch but groan in familiarity as fingers gingerly find your scalp before you can scold him for surprising you.

But then you look at the time and curse under your breath, "Fuck, I forgot to order the–"

"It's okay, I ordered fifteen minutes ago. It'll be here in ten."

You kiss Mingyu's knuckle apologetically, "Thanks, babe. I'll let you choose the movie for tonight."

"Really?" he squeals, and you guffaw at the way he flaps his arms around excitedly, making his way to the couch and TV. "Oh my God, this is so sudden. I need to see if they have all the Nancy Meyers movies on Netflix– Or wait, I could pirate it– Or wait, what about our subscription to– Oh no, I forgot to pay the–"

You slowly turn back around as your boyfriend busies himself with picking a movie for the night and your head throbs as you look at your screen, feeling guilty about ditching the work that awaited you. But then, you tune back into the rambling Mingyu in your living room and you can't help but care more about sitting in your boyfriend's arms with fried chicken crumbs all over your lap.

And that's what you find yourself doing half an hour later. It's a little bit concerning how focused on the movie– The Holiday, Mingyu had finally chosen– so much so that you have to keep pushing him to eat as well. At one point he chokes on some chicken and you have to pat his back real hard to make sure he stays alive.

"Are you sure you're trying to keep me alive because–" Cough, "you're going really hard, babe."

You laugh as he returns to normal and push a glass of water toward him, "Of course, big guy, I wouldn't be able to pay rent if you died so keeping you alive makes top 3 on my to-do list."

"Top three? What's more important than keeping me alive?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all – duh, keeping myself alive. That's second on my to-do list."

"Y/N," Mingyu starts warningly, "Please don't tell me number one on your to-do list is to video-record me screaming at that one Youtube video of scary ghost sounds."

"No! Obviously not, Gyu."

"..."

"It was to record you crying over a video of babies saying their first words."

"Aww, come on, Y/N! You know how I feel about that! It's like their lives have begun when they start speaking! They're all alone in this big world!! And don't even get me started when their first words are a parent's name– That's like endgame right there!!!"

Eventually, the two of you manage to get back on track when it came to actually watching the movie – except, you don't. Admittedly, once you've both finished your food and settled in to focus on the television screen, you find your mind wandering. And while once that would've meant something entirely NSFW, thanks to your long hours, you find yourself thinking about work. The work that's sitting right there on your desk that you can see, just sitting there in the darkness, all tangible and full of consequences behind the TV. And once you start thinking, there's no stopping it and before you know it, you're all up in your head.

So much so that you're brought back to earth when Mingyu pauses the movie and stares you donw in silence. It takes you a moment but then you bite your lip as you meet his gaze, feeling like you'd been caught red-handed cheating on him. And well, the way he looked at you in disappointment, you might as well have been.

"Y/N, you've been looking at your desk longingly for the past ten minutes."

You really don't have anything to say for yourself except, "I'm really sorry, Gyu."

He sighs at your quick admission of guilt and you hate the way he peels his arm of your shoulder. "It's okay, if you need to work, you can go work."

"No, but we're watching a movie–"

"There's no point to it if you're distracted."

"I'm sorry, I won't think about work, promise."

"No, no, it's okay, babe," Mingyu reassures you, hand finding your shoulders, rubbing circles into it as you look back at him in dismay, "I'm serious, I don't want to keep you from completing your work. We can finish watching the movie later, alright?"

You deflate a little, "Okay. But I promise I'll make it up to you, okay, Gyu?"

Your boyfriend simply smiles at you and the sight makes you regret ever making him pause the movie when you could've been cuddling into his warmth instead. But he's so sweet when he kisses your cheek, "Don't worry about it, my love."

The next few days find you absolutely swamped because where you'd thought things would get better slowly, they only got worse. Your internship was more stressful than ever as you found yourself going later and later into the night to keep up with the tasks assigned to you. The report was coming along slower than you'd like. But while you could do something about those things, there were things that felt completely out of your reach.

For one, you'd been ignoring your mother's calls, a measure you'd taken to protect your fragile mental state. Each time you'd send her quick but cold text saying something along the lines of I'm too busy to talk right now. You felt bad every time you left her hanging but it was undeniable that you felt slightly less deranged in the monrings without her daily check-in.

But there was also the situation with Mingyu. Ever since movie night, you'd only spent lesser time with him, to the point that even getting to sleep in the same bed at him counted as a win for you. Even when he would come back around lunch but you'd be too busy working to notice and dinners were usually just the two of you talking back and forth about your days.

At dinner, he seemed fine, answering your questions about class enthusiastically and listening to your own responses eagerly. But you'd notice the way he'd be quick to clear the table once you were both done eating, not even taking the chance to ask you to watch a movie or talk more with him. And though it stung right through your heart, the fact that you couldn't afford to take the initiative yourself left you no choice but to watch as he retired to the bedroom for the night.

Which is when you come back from that lunch with Yunjin, your head's reeling. Were Mingyu and you fighting? Could you be? It didn't feel like a fight, it was a lot more nonverbal. More subtle. She'd asked you if things were okay and they weren't, but it's also not like they were terrible. They were just worse than okay.

But Thursday night came around, and you were closer than ever to finish that godforsaken report and head into a much-needed weekend off. Feeling a little cheery in anticipation of all the free time you'd have, you thought you might take a break and ask if Mingyu to get late night ice-cream, an offer you knew he would never turn down.

However, you're about to enter the room where Mingyu's said he's going go "rot while watching life-sucking short-form media content" (his own words from two hours ago) when you hear his low voice, presumably on the phone.

"...yeah, man, I don't know, it's getting pretty bad.."

You freeze instantly, your guts lurching as they tell you this conversation probably has something to do with you. Before you can feel bad about eavesdropping or consider the possibility that you're only projecting, Mingyu goes on–

"Of course I've told her! Or at least, I've tried to tell her. I keep trying to get her to leave the house for something other than grocery runs… but it's no use. I kinda gave up after that." He sighs heavily and you hear the sheets shuffle, probably as he turns to his other side, voice now muffled.

Your fists are at your sides, tight but shaky as you take in what he's saying, both in shock but also in acknowledgment.

"It's hard for me, too, yeah, I guess. I miss her… non-overburdened self. I wish I could end the stress somehow…"

His voice gets harder to hear at that point or maybe you stop listening– it's hard to tell with the flood of thoughts in your head by then. You detach from the bedroom door and your legs drag you to your desk. You feel yourself sit but mentally, you're still outside the room, hearing Mingyu's honest thoughts for the first time in a week. Honestly, you ought to have seen it coming, with your one-track mind and his tendency to keep things to himself.

I kinda gave up after that point… You know he's referring to getting you around to a healthier work schedule and still, you can't help but think of the words more generally. Like, in the context of your relationship and well– it was all dominoes anyway, right? One thing after another. Today, it was you neglecting spending time with Mingyu over your internship, tomorrow, what if he's giving up on you and your inability to prioritize?

You take in a deep breath to steady yourself, feeling your thoughts get out of control. But they don't let up, Mingyu's words ringing in your head loud and clear. He wanted to end the stress– you were causing him stress. You lean into your chair and look up at the ceiling, stomach uneasily swirling.

No, you tell yourself, you couldn't go based off a snippet of a conversation you eavesdropped on. Besides, Mingyu had every right to be tired of your work ethic and there was nothing you could do except try to get better at it. Slowly, you bring yourself to stare at your screen, plans to take an ice-cream break long abandoned.

A small part of you rationalized that it was already past one and starting tomorrow might be a better idea, but the larger and much more emotional part of you could only hear Mingyu's worn-out voice in the deep of night, and you know you can't stop till you're done.

…And that's how it's nearly six in the morning by the time you pick yourself off your chair. Good news: you've finished one of the biggest reports you'd submit during your internship, which meant you could take a few days off. Bad news: working an all-nighter on top of your sleep-deprived state meant you were barely functioning as you hauled yourself to bed.

More bad news: in your delirious state, you don't make it to the bedroom and pass out on the couch.

Three hours later, Mingyu wakes up to a cold pillow next to his and sits up faster than he's ever before, mind racing as he calls out for you. Going to sleep to an empty bed, he was used to, but waking up to one was new for him. Every morning, it was to your peaceful sleeping figure he'd open his eyes to, without a mistake. It was the one constant that he was holding on to every morning. So yeah, he's pretty panicked when he finds you passed out cold on the couch.

He debates why you might've slept on the couch instead of the bed and almost wakes you up because he can't stand the thought that he might've been the reason why. But he stops himself when he hears you snore quietly and instead presses a hand to your cheek lovingly– only to find you burning up.

"Fuck."

Fuck is right because when you finally come to, around two hours later, your body feels like a rock and not at all in a zen way. More so, in the way that every time you move, a shriek rips itself from your throat. Speaking of your throat, it's literally never been this dry. When you manage to sit up in bed and take a sip of the water that's conveniently placed next to you–

You half-choke on the liquid in your throat as you realize your surroundings. You didn't remember going to bed last night but then you spot the note on your side. It's from Mingyu.

Y/N: YOU WERE PASSED OUT ON THE COUCH LIKE AN IDIOT. YOU ALSO HAVE A FEVER. CAN U EAT THE PORRIDGE IN THE FRIDGE AFTER HEATING IT UP? I WILL BE BACK BY 3, HAVE A STUPID WORKSHEET TO TURN IN TODAY :(

And then, in smaller writing:

we'll talk when i get back, okay?

[PS: please be alive when i come back or trust, i will make u pay rent from your grave]

You laugh at his note, the scrawny letters ever so characteristic of him, but immediately regret it when your headache makes its presence known. You groan as you get out of bed. The morning only seems to get more painful as you nurse your burnout-induced fever. Because the universe has perfectly timed your period to start today. So that's already two kinds of pains you're fighting in bed, when your phone rings a little too loud for your liking.

You don't who else you expect: it's your mother. And this is probably not a good time to hear her voice, not when you weren't on good terms, but the combination of your period and a fever has left you more emotionally vulnerable than ever and you find yourself craving her love.

Except you should've known better because when you answer the phone in a weak voice, muttering a "Hi," she's already snapping at you. "Took you long enough to stop ghosting your own mother!"

"Sorry, Mom, I was just… really busy with work. But I'm–"

"Why do you sound like that?" she sounds concerned and the indication of worry has you feeling a little warm despite everything. So you let it slip that you're sick. And where you'd thought you'd receive consolation and cooing, your mother's only reprimanding you: "Great. Now you've gotten yourself sick. You can't even take yourself, can you? When will you grow up, Y/N?"

You barely hold the sob that escapes your lungs at her harsh criticism and she catches on: "Are you crying? Y/N, you're such a kid–" And that's it, you give up. Silently, you hang up on your mother but instead of watching her contact photo fade, you throw your phone away from you in despair and hear as it lands on the floor with a crash.

And God, everything might've hurt like hell before but now that you're crying, it's so much worse, you think you're going to die. But painful or not, the nasty crying actually feels good when it's out of your system and you think your fever might even be clearing up by the time you hear the front door open, signalling Mingyu's return.

You sit up in bed, tears long wiped and phone recovered from the floor, as Mingyu enters the room with careful steps. When he notices you awake, he relaxes and meets your eyes with a concerned frown.

"Hi, Gyu," you greet him through a small smile.

Mingyu's cautious, more so than you've ever seen him as he regards you from the door of your bedroom: "Hi, babe. Are you feeling better?"

You nod, "Much. Thanks for the porridge. It was disgustingly healing."

Mingyu approaches the bed now, but instead of the quick affection you thought you might receive, he only narrows his eyes at you. Damn it, what was it with your loved ones and just being nice to you for once? (It might have something to do with… like, the consequences of your actions but you don't want to think too hard right now).

"Why…" Mingyu starts and his voice is unfamiliarly grave. You almost shiver because you must've fucked up big-time if Kim Mingyu's bringing up serious talk for the first time in your years-long relationship with him. "Did you sleep on the couch last night?"

You swallow against your throat, dry once again but for different reasons. "Um, funny story, I kinda passed out there last night… or this morning. But!" you quickly supply your mistake with, "I finished my report early so I have all of today and the weekend to just do nothing."

Once again, Mingyu's looking at you, face serious, not even a hint of a smile and Yunjin's words are returning to you. As much as you hate to admit it, maybe you are fighting with Mingyu and fuck, you hate it.

"Are you seriously pretending like everything's okay, Y/N?"

Mingyu's words are like a slap across your face, except instead of sending you flying, you end up returning to his words the night before. It's hard for me, he'd said, and you feel the weight of your selfishness all at once, the doubts you'd gotten yourself sick over invading your mind once again. Your eyes fall to your hands.

"You've been working yourself like a dog, Y/N! And now you're sick! Does that make you happy?"

God, you hate the way he says your name like it's a bad word. Or worse, like you're a stranger. Everything he says is a reminder of the burden you've been to him.

"I'm sorry," your voice is small and you raise your eyes to his– which is a mistake because you catch the hurt look on his face and fuck, you're tearing up. So much for getting it out of your system beforehand. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Gyu."

Mingyu, on the other hand, is completely taken aback when you start shaking, hot tears streaming down your face rapidly. He'd been upset at your poor health and your mental condition the past few days, but he'd expected you to fight back; to defend your actions and to justify why you did what you did like you usually would. It'd be an intense going back and forth but the two of you would eventually fight it out.

But to see you break like this, fists wrapped tight around each other to the point of white– shit, he hadn't seen this coming.

The thing is you've both been on completely different wavelenghts for a while now. Where you've been plagued with self-doubt and guilt because of work, strained calls with family, and now, your fight with Mingyu; Mingyu's just been lonely. It didn't help that you weren't doing too much except small talk in your free time with him.

"Hey, baby, please, I'm– I didn't mean to make you cry. Please, you'll make yourself more sick."

You look up at him through tears in confusion, voice breaking, "You're… not mad at me?"

Mingyu frowns, "I am. But it doesn't mean I'll watch you cry yourself to death."

"God, I'm sorry, Gyu… I– I overheard you talking on the phone last night."

It takes him a moment to make sense of what you're saying but when his own conversation comes back to him, his heart's squeezing uncomfortably. "You heard me?" He feels guilt, regret, and hurt all at once.

"I'm so sorry, Mingyu, I didn't mean to be such a bad girlfriend– heck, I was such a bad roommate this past week. And I'm sorry I was a burden to you when you have your own problems to deal with–"

Mingyu interrupts you when he crawls upto and places your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wide and you can visibly see the tears pricking there as he stares at you. "Y/N, the literal love of my life, what the actual fuck are you saying? You're not a burden to me. And what problems have you burdened with me when we barely talk about anything real these days?"

You purse your lips at the deserved call-out and Mingyu shakes you, "Babe, I wish you were more burdensome. I want to know everything that's worrying you. Please, I can't be there for you if I don't even know what demons you're fighting."

You blink away fresh tears at his genuine words. "I'm… on my period."

"Oh," breathes Mingyu, hands dropping to your shoulders, "Is it your first day?"

"Yes. And I've been fighting with my mom. My whole family maybe. But specifically her."

Mingyu wraps his arms fully around you this time. "God, I'm so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea you were having family problems. Is it because you didn't go back home?" When he feels you slowly nod against him, he says, "That sucks. But did you tell them how hard you've been working at this internship?"

"Mhmm, but my mom still thinks I won't ever be as good as you."

Mingyu pulls away at that, "Me? You talk to your mom about me? Wait, no, I mean, why does she think that?"

You contain a smile, "She knows you have summer school and that you go to class at nine. That's much more admirable than stupid little me who wakes up at eleven and eats cereal for breakfast. And then I went and got sick. So now she also thinks I can't take care of myself."

"...I think she might be right about that last part," Mingyu tells you with a pointed look and you push him away with a broken sigh.

"I know, but you know what really gets my goat, Gyu? That you were dishing about me to someone else instead of calling me out to my face. If I was being a little bitch, I would rather you tell me. I don't want you to bottle it up and end up feeling resentful toward me."

"Hold on a minute, where is this coming from? Who said anything about you being a little bitch? If anything, you were a really massive bitch but only to yourself. I could tell that you felt bad about not spending time with me. But I wasn't ever resentful, I was just… lonely. I meant what I told Shua last night: I just miss you! And doing things with you..."

You scan his face for signs of any dishonesty but it's the same handsome but honest face that stares back at you. You lean into him until your forehead bumps against his chest, partly to feel his warmth again and partly to hide the tears that bubble out again. "Sorry. I was just. I was so scared that you were gonna want to break up with me."

Almost instantaneously, Mingyu's grip is on you, stronger than usual so that it actually hurts as he pulls you away. "What?" he asks in disbelief, "Are you genuinely insane. I'm going to need you to never say those words again. Please. Don't bring the possibility of that into existence or I will have to hurl myself back into my mother's womb."

You find yourself half-laughing and half-crying at his hysteric concern, entertained but also so incredibly relieved that Mingyu hates the thought of leaving you as much you do.

While you don't say anything and simply travel the territory between laughter and tears, Mingyu is genuinely losing it: "No, Y/N, I don't think you understand. That is simply not on the table. We've been dating for like, three months? I have so many things I want to do with you, okay? So if you're having these thoughts, throw them the fuck out because I'm going to actually pass away."

You finally break and shut Mingyu up with a kiss– a real kiss, and only pull away to mumble, "It's been a while, boyfriend. I love you so much it hurts."

You're only a little shocked when Mingyu sniffles, because you'd felt his cheeks dampen halfway through the kiss. His hand finds the back of your neck, keeping your lips a breath away from his. "Stupid girlfriend. Thinks she can play with my feelings and then kiss her way through a sorry." But he kisses you again anyway and you kiss him back with equal passion, convincing him enough to stop his crying.

"God, we must both look like shit right now," you giggle when you pull away, running a finger across his red cheeks. "Sorry I made you cry."

"I love you," Mingyu replies, "And if you ever overwork yourself to the point of sickness again, I will hurt you."

"The way we talk is concerning to me sometimes. It sounds like we're… married or something. As if we're not literal college students. And as if you're not the biggest coward ever."

"Not sure why you felt the need to say that last thing but– Wasn't it Kazuha who said we were like her parents sometimes? We could live-stream our fights and market them as childhood nostalgia for kids around the world."

You can't keep your laughter in at his plan, but hit his arm anyway to let him know where you stood. "Damn it, Kim Mingyu, that's it, I'm going to call Zuha and tell her to block you as soon as she can."

"But before I do that, can we go back to being irresponsible, unmarried young adults in love and order take-out for dinner? Please?"

Mingyu's grinning already, and you want to pick him up and pocket him for how adorable he can be but resort to gazing at him with hearts for eyes as he declares, "Of course, love, what do you wanna eat tonight?"

"You can decide. I'll go wash up in the meantime."

"Wait, I'll come with, I need to shower, too."

Now things start to get better. You settle into a comfortable silence with Mingyu, and as you snuggle next to him, you let the scent of him overwhelm you with a giddy smile. The food in your plate is warm and Mingyu is giggly as you finally finish watching The Holiday, and for once, your period cramps are merciful, for the pain of laughter brewing in your stomach is far more intense.

And the pain of love, as you watch Mingyu put away the leftovers from dinner and clean up the kitchen for the night. You'd volunteered to do the dishes but he simply pushed you into a chair at the kitchen table with a soft sigh and honestly, you're not complaining. He's better at doing them anyway.

In the dim glow of the quiet kitchen light, Mingyu's all soft edges, so careful as he wipes the damp plate you'd shared just a few minutes ago and the look in his eyes is loving when he finally makes his way back to you, asking if you'd like to head to bed now.

For the next few days, it's so easy to forget about time because you find yourself talking it away in Mingyu's arms, fighting the urge to kiss him every time he guffaws at something you say. But you also let him drag you out of the house, a real date in the city, both of you dressed up and blushy under the lamplights as you walk back from dinner.

Wine-drunk, Mingyu stops you outside the front-door to the apartment and leans down to peck your cheek. The modest action has you all flustered and you let out an embarassed huff. "What are you kissing me good-night for?" you ask, more amused than you are confused.

Mingyu's eyes twinkle in response, head clearly wrapped around some new plot. "I said I'd walk you home. This is home. You should head inside first."

You laugh when he stands with his hands politely clasped in front of him, catching on to the bit. Only Kim Mingyu would think to pretend to be a shy first date dropping you off home, as if you hadn't known each other for as long as you'd known to love.

"Ah, I didn't even realize we reached home. Such a shame," you cheekily step closer to him, one hand brushing against his crossed arms, "Do you want to come inside? We can… do things."

Mingyu breaks character with a toothy grin at that, "You're so bad at this!"

"What?" you ask in feigned offense, "I'm inviting you inside!"

"Yeah, but to "do things"? Is that really how you've been flirting with your first dates, babe? Actually, no, don't answer that– Unless? There's no way that works, right? Or do you just charm your way through the awkwardness– No, but that's just–"

"Okay, now you're rambling, big guy," you hook an arm around his and pull him inside after you. "Come on inside, we have things to do."

"Hmm, and these things…" Mingyu hums with an undertone of mischief, his arms sneaking around your waist already, "...they wouldn't include getting naked and um, cuddling?"

"Gross, Gyu! I was offering to watch a movie but– You're such a creepy little pervert– Ha– AGH, Okay, okay, okay, sorry, I'll stop! You can drop the threatening sock now please– NO, DON'T YOU DARE THROW IT AT ME, KIM MINGYU–"

The next day, you're sure to call Yunjin up, who picks up with a heavy groan and before she can curse you out for waking her, you ask her if she wants to get lunch. "Gyu's coming, too, if that's okay?" Yunjin pauses. And then: "Ugh. So you guys finally made up? Thank God. I was getting tired of the passive aggressive texts from Joshua about you and Mingyu. Speaking of which, can I invite Joshua? He'll shut up if he sees you two in love in person."

–

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i tried to preserve the best friend banter dynamic but given that they were fighting, it was a liltle hard. idk i can't tell if this is any good but it's something! i promise to proof-read later.... probably... anyway, ... thank you for reading and i love reading any feedback slash reviews in the tags so pls do let me know <3 lots of love to my friends and foes!!!! bye.

#mingyu x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu svt #svt x reader #kim mingyu #mingyu fics #kim mingyu x y/n #seventeen fics #seventeen imagine #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu hurt comfort #svt fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #mingyu x you angst

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