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toruro · 6 months

Text

— ✧ flight of the stars

"It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."

you go following flights to the stars, and these cars can get us home (zayn)

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff

description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a “regular” a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you know—the xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, sollie, cheol, wonu, & hannie

w/c: 13.3k

fic playlist

a/n: oh. always thank u to @gyuswhore for helping me w this, and special smooches to han for going over this w me too ^^

smut tags. oral (m receiving), pet names (baby)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Cheol is going to kill Minghao when he finds out he somehow managed to screw himself over while training. Well, only if Minghao doesn’t kill himself first.

It was just supposed to be a regular session, doing some standard neck exercises with Wonwoo, his training partner. General training shit—you know, the stuff Minghao needs to do so his neck doesn’t snap in half the next time he races and then—pang! Pain flares up in his muscles when Wonwoo adjusts the controls on the harness around Minghao’s head a little harder, the latter losing his form in a moment of unexpectancy.

His hand flies up immediately Wonwoo stops, shutting off the controls and loosening the tether attached to Minghao’s harness, releasing all the tension. “Are you good?” he asks, taking a step closer as he takes in the sight of the racer.

Wonwoo’s heart sinks into his chest when he finds Minghao’s head and neck unmoving, staring straight down as his breaths begin to grow shaky, and—crap, his eyes are glossy and—oh fuck, Wonwoo might just shit his pants.

“Hao—” Wonwoo calls out again, this time his voice drenched with worry as he reaches out to try and untie the harness from around his friends head, but as his hand brushes over the back of his neck, Minghao shifts a little and that’s when Wonwoo hears it—a sharp gasp following by Minghao muttering under his breath:

“G-get the medic.”

His voice is labored and Wonwoo knows exactly what to do and nothing at the same time. His mind is racing because holy crap, SECTOR probably just lost their best racer for a few months, if not the entire racing season, and it’s all because of this stupid neck training session, and—Wonwoo stops himself from thinking about what this means for Minghao’s work and forces himself to scramble back, running out of the training room and down to the nursing hall.

Five minutes and several phone calls later, Minghao is being loaded into a stretcher. He doesn’t say a word though, doesn’t know what to say.

Five hours and even more phone calls later, Minghao is sitting up with a brace around his neck, and his manager and friends around his hospital bed (Wonwoo and Hasnsol are to his left while Seungcheol stands on his right).

“So you’re telling me I won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season?” Minghao finally scoffs out after a couple minutes’ worth of silence in tense air.

“We don’t know that yet,” Cheol responds, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the racer carefully. Minghao’s lips are curved down in a heavy frown but his eyes remain unwavering as he finally looks up at his manager.

“Fuck,” he breaths out.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Hansol asks worriedly, and Minghao knows that his friend is only just concerned for him but all the pain and frustration is already starting to bubble up inside of him.

“Like a bitch,” he mutters bitterly.

Seungcheol sighs deeply, stepping closer to the bed. He knows the situation isn’t easy for Minghao—it isn’t easy for anyone—and he’s aware of the stakes involved for the team. “Hao, you know we’ll do anything to get you back on the track as soon as possible.”

Minghao scoffs, not meeting the eyes of his manager. “Yeah. I know.”

Wonwoo nearly flinches at the stillness of his friend’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally says loudly, causing the other three in the room to look at him. “I messed up with the controls—it’s my fault, and I—”

“It’s fine,” Minghao huffs, tearing his eyes away from his friend. “It was an accident.”

It’s not fine. It’s not fucking fine at all and—

Deep breaths, Minghao reminds himself, but when he actually starts to think about the ache that blooms from his neck and down his spine, it gets harder and harder to keep his cool. He feels like he’s ‘bout to pop a vein from all the blood that’s rushing through his body, the only thing snapping him out of his trance being Wonwoo’s voice.

“You’ll start seeing a physiotherapist tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Best to start the recovery process early, Minghao thinks to himself, mildly calming his irritation. He purses his lips, trying to navigate the cluster of thoughts that plague his mind until he finally musters up the courage to ask, “How long is it gonna take? T-to heal?”

His friends look at him solemnly, and Minghao feels his heart sink right down to his stomach.

“We don’t know.”

“You already sa—” Minghao stops himself from saying something he might regret. “Could I actually be out the whole season?”

There’s silence until Cheol finally decides to speak up.

“There’s a chance.”

Minghao thinks he might scream.

“Hey Seungie!” you chirp, walking into the reception of your office with a bright smile. Your best friend greets you with only an eye roll as you approach his counter at the front, peeking at him from over his monitor.

“I told you to stop calling me that in public!” he whines, nose scrunched up as you laugh at the way he’s pouting.

“No one’s even here, no one’ll hear anything,” you try to reason as he huffs and turns away, refusing to look at you.

“Still!”

You sigh, putting down a brown bag on the floor before raising your hands up in surrender. “Okay fine, I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

This time, you roll your eyes. “Yes … Seungie—”

“I hate you!” Seungkwan roars as you double over laughing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I’m officially disowning you as my best friend.”

You gasp, stepping back and picking up the brown bag again. “Are you kidding me? And here I thought I would’ve liked to share one of my Americanos with you but I guess not …” you sigh dramatically, starting to walk away as you lift the bag to wave it in Seungkwan’s face.

“I was just joking! Come back! How could I disown you as my best friend—c’mon, you know I was just joking,” he pleads from behind you.

You grin as you turn around and walk back to him with a grin. “You’re horribly unpersuasive. Like your acting skills are actually an abomination,” you tell him, pulling out one of the cups of the cold drink and handing it to Seungkwan. “You’re lucky I love you,” you continue, laughing a little as Seungkwan snatches the cup away hastily with a bashful “thanks” under his breath.

“Okay, well ditto to you too,” he barks back. “Who else would put up with you and your ugly crying over Taylor Swift music videos?”

“Hey! Wildest Dreams is a lyrical, musical, theatrical, melodcial masterpiece! ”

“Okay, first of all, melodical isn’t even a word, and even if it was—” Seungkwan is cut off by the ringing of the office phone line. “I probably need to answer this but we are not done with this conversation,” he shoots at you.

You giggle, waving him off and heading down one the hall to get to your office, barely catching what Seungkwan is saying, or who he’s even talking to. It vaguely crosses your mind that it’s a bit too early in the morning for your office to be getting work calls, but you brush it off as you slip past your door and into your little room.

It’s a nice little space you’ve made for yourself; your physiotherapy firm was set up a few years back, and you’d even recently gone through a certification process to belt yourself as one of SECTOR’s physiotherapists. Pretty exciting stuff when you think about it—being able to work with such top-notch racers (albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances), and you get to do what you love at the same time.

Now, you haven’t actually gotten any big-shot patients yet, and you’ve started to appreciate that more recently. It’s not as stressful, and you don’t have to navigate a possibly awkward doctor-patient relationship with someone who’s dealing with what might be a career-changing injury.

You wonder when you’ll stop forgetting that your luck ran out years ago.

Just as you set your bag down and slip into your chair to answer some emails, Seungkwan is knocking on your door and walking in. “Hey, uh, this is kinda important,” he tells you, pointing behind him at his desk where he was taking the call.

“What’s up?” you ask, slightly worried by Seungkwan’s quick change in demeanor from playful to serious.

“Some doctor at SECTOR’s facility just called and—” Crap, you know where this is going already. “—Xu Minghao just fucked up his neck. Like yesterday. And he’s getting discharged from the hospital in a few hours hopefully and they’re gonna send him over right away so you can take a look and start working with him.”

You press your lips together tightly, head going slightly dizzy at the mention of his name. Of course, when you finally got yourself licensed to practice under SECTOR, you were aware of the possibility of working with him, but this feels a little too real and a little too fast.

“You good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping you out of your haze. “Lost you for a second—it looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Sorry, just zoned out,” you laugh stiffly, turning on your computer and taking a shaky breath. “I’m a bit nervous I guess. I’ve never worked with a professional like him—at least not yet,” you continue to say, and it’s not entirely a lie.

You are nervous, and in any other situation you would try your best to just not think about the situation but given Xu Minghao is going to step into your office in a few hours, you figure you should get to work right away.

Seungkwan steps out soon, saying, “You got this. Seriously, you’ve been working so hard for so long and you finally get to work with one of the big shots!”

Chuckling at his optimism, you finally open the email application on your monitor. Your inbox is flooded with emails, most of which are a series of X-rays and MRI scans of your soon to be patient, and so taking a deep breath, you dive in.

“Hey Hannie, did you sanitize Room C?” you ask one of your (few) employees as he steps out from the supply room behind the reception.

“Shoot, was it supposed to be C? I’m sorry, I cleaned up B, but I can go to C and get it sanitized right now—” he starts to say, turning towards the supply room at the end of the hall.

“Hey wait no it’s okay, I just asked for C ‘cause it’s a bit bigger but it doesn't really matter. Don’t worry about it—have you had your lunch break yet?”

“Nah not yet, I was just about to step into that with Seungkwan, but he’s taken a moment to grab coffee from the cafe across the street.”

You chuckle, “Already? I got him an Americano only a few hours ago …”

Jeonghan laughs out loud at that, slipping off his cleaning gloves and patting his hands down on his scrubs. “You know how Seungkwan is with his Americanos.”

“Don’t remind me—he’s crazy. I don’t know how he ingests that much caffeine and still functions like a normal human being but—”

Seungkwan’s voice cuts you off. “I know you guys are talking about me but I’d suggest you take a break and go get ready because I swear I just saw a car with SECTOR’s logo on the back pull up onto the street right up front.”

Oh fuck. You’re already starting to feel awfully nervous.

“Shit, really? I didn’t think they’d be here as early as noon,” Jeonghan says quickly, tossing the gloves and turning to you for instruction. “Anything we need to do?”

“Guys, just chill,” you say casually. Ironic, you think to yourself, because you feel like your heart might pound right out of your chest any second now. “Just handle this like you would any other patient. I’ll probably have to talk to his manager, but while we’re doing that Jeonghan can take Xu into B and just ease him into things. Lay off the tension, you know? He’s probably stressed out as is.”

“Noted,” Jeonghan nods as he walks down the hall, and then you turn to the door of the reception where you see a group of three people walking up.

You try to make out their figures; that one on the left’s probably one of SECTOR’s health directors, and the one on the right is … that’s Choi Seungcheol isn’t it? The one who sent you the emails? He’s Xu Minghao’s manager, you’re pretty sure of it.

You straighten your back when the front door opens, clutching the clipboard full of prints of the scans you were sent earlier. Setting your eyes straight, you take a deep breath and finally take in the sight of the three people filling into the reception.

Yup, there’s Choi Seungcheol … and then Cho Miyeon following behind and she’s pushing a—shit, it’s Xu Minghao in all his glory.

Well, you’re not sure how wondrous he feels right now in that wheelchair, eyes cold as he stares at the floor. His neck’s held up in a thick brace that you can see reaches down under his shirt and over his shoulders; he doesn’t look up, and for a moment you’re grateful.

It puts off the question though, the words that linger in the back of your mind.

Will he recognize you? Well, more importantly …

Does he even remember you?

You rid yourself of the personal thoughts when Choi Seungcheol approaches you, holding out his hand to you. You shake it, strong and firm as he smiles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, thanks for making time for us today.”

“No problem,” you reply with a nod as Jeonghan comes in from the hallway. “My assistant, Jeonghan here can take Mr. Xu to one of our rooms while I talk with you two about a few things. Does that work?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Seungcheol nods, motioning Jeonghan to Minghao in his wheelchair behind him. The racer keeps his head down as Jeonghan brushes over and starts pushing him down the hall to Room B. You wonder if he’s even noticed you.

As Jeonghan goes off, you turn back to the other two still in the reception and point at your room. “Shall we?”

Once the three of you settle down, Seungcheol and Miyeon sit across from you, the former speaks up. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice—this all happened really quick and if you can't already tell, we’re kind of desperate to get him back in the driver’s seat as soon as possible.”

“No worries, please. These kinds of situations are exactly what I’m here for,” you tell them, and they both seem to crack a small smile of relief. “Now I spoke with the doctor that examined him at the hospital, and then briefly with Ms. Cho,” you say, motioning towards the woman on your right, “And there’s a general understanding that Mr. Xu’s suffered a pretty serious strain in his neck muscles.”

“Yeah, uh—how long is this going to take to heal?” Seungcheol pops in, and you sigh.

“I can give you a range, but it’s not so definite … I’d say between three to five months,” you tell him. “But again, it’s different for every patient. Muscle strains aren’t like a clean break or fracture where we can determine almost exactly when it’ll be healed … this stuff is going to take more time and it varies from person to person as well. It all kind of depends on Mr. Xu’s body, and that’s what I’m here for—to help figure out what works for him.”

“We understand that, thank you,” Miyeon nods, sitting straighter in her seat. “How often should he be coming in?”

“Hm, I’ll give you a definite answer after checking in with him today, but to estimate, I’d say around 2-3 times a week, while also using my suggestions outside of our sessions.”

You finish the conversation with the two after that, excusing yourself as you let them back into the reception before knocking on the door to Room B. Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway.

“He seems like, really sad, so—”

“Well, duh. It’s a serious injury,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.

“Whatever. I’m just telling you to tread carefully,” he says as you make your way to the door. You don’t respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghao’s turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.

You got this. Seungkwan was right—you’ve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious ‘cause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesn’t look at you. “I’m pretty sure you already have heard enough about what’s wrong with your neck right now, so let’s talk about how we can make it better, yeah?”

You hear a gruff, “Sure,” escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, it’s understandable.

“The report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldn’t move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?” you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.

“Yeah.”

“Is it better now?”

“A little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.”

“Okay, this is a good sign actually—you’re getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but it’s over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although it’ll take more time for it to heal.” You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.

As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking about—he can’t even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like there’s daggers plunging into his neck, and you’re here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isn’t his fuckin’ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as he’s in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room with—who the fuck even are you?

His head hurts, and Minghao thinks it’s partly because of his neck, but it’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong and—well shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.

Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, you’re met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.

“I—” Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. “Nothing.” the possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.

You can see it in his eyes—Minghao remembers. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.

“What time is Xu scheduled for on Wednesdays? He’ll be coming in on Wednesdays, right?” Jeonghan asks as he steps into your office.

“Uh, he’s coming in for a session from 11-2 today—which, by the way, could you set up Room C for that? I can’t remember if I already put that on the to-do list.”

“Yeah I did it yesterday after our last patient of the day, I was just wondering. You’re gonna lead it with him this time, right?”

“Yeah, since it’s the first session. You were right about him being … apprehensive—”

“Sad,” Jeonghan corrects you. “A sad, sad boy.”

“Yeah well, go figure,” you sigh out of sympathy. “Anyways, like I said, it’s understandable for him to be frustrated, so I’ll work with him at first to ease him into things and stuff. You can start taking over more of the sessions once he warms up to the whole process, and once we figure out and set a routine.”

“Okay great. Does this mean I can go out for my lunch break at 11:30?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply with a casual shrug as Jeonghan thanks you and slips away. You shift your attention back to your monitor before glancing through the initial medical reports you were sent by the hospital, and then the results of your own tests you ran during your first session with Xu Minghao.

It’s a shitty injury, you’ll have to admit. A neck strain on the muscles closest to his right shoulder, not only rendering his neck immobile for a period of time, but also hindering his abilities to move his right arm.

Must hurt like a bitch—physically and mentally—and the image of him staring down at the ground burns in the back of your mind.

With a sigh, you silently wonder if you could offer him the same solace he gave you.

Xu Minghao shows up to your office two hours later with Choi Seungcheol pushing him inside on his wheelchair, and you’re thankful to see that his stature looks much more relaxed than before. “I’ll come by at 2, right?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great. Thank you,” Jeonghan tells Mr. Choi with a smile before taking control of Minghao’s wheelchair and strolling him into the room. You’re already there and waiting for him, standing up to greet him with a smile.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you say, thanking Jeonghan as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

“Morning,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. The air isn’t as thick as it was the first day, but there seems to be some invisible barrier between the two.

“How’s the pain right now, Mr. Xu?” you ask, pulling out a notepad on your computer to jot down some notes.

Your patient’s eyebrows furrow, and for a second you have a feeling this might be harder than you thought, but his next words are more comforting than anything. “Uh, can you just call me Minghao? Mr. Xu is … it’s weird.”

“Y-yeah of course, sorry about that, Minghao,” you nod with a half smile. “So could you tell me how things are feeling?”

“I guess it hurts less. I don’t really move that much so I can avoid hurting myself though—kinda in this thing most of the time anyways,” he replies gruffly, hitting the left side of the wheelchair with his palm.

“Do you stand up? Walk around at all?”

“Not often.”

“Okay so I think we’re going to try and change that soon,” you tell him. “We’ll do some mobility checks today but if it doesn’t hurt to move your shoulder a little, then I think it’s best you move as much as you can without pain. Honestly, you’re going to be injured for a while and—”

You pause when you hear Minghao inhale sharply at that, making a mental note to soften your words a little.

“—and we don’t want you to be immobile. If you can move, try to. We’ll try and get you out of the wheelchair within the next two weeks, how does that sound?”

Minghao’s ears perk up at that. “Two weeks? Only?”

You nod happily at his sudden energy and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, you know the wheelchair is just so you don’t move your upper body too much but like I said the last time we met, the initial stages are pretty painful but once it’s over, you’ll be more mobile. Of course, you won’t be able to get back to racing and training right away, but you’ll be able to be a lot more active than you are now.”

“How long will it take before I can start training again?” Minghao asks curiously, finally looking you straight in the eye with parted lips.

The desperation is painful to watch.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, watching his shoulders deflate. “At least two months.”

“Two months?”

“At the least,” you say with a held breath.

“At the most?” Minghao asks hopefully.

You purse your lips. “At the most? … A year?”

“A year? That’s more than a whole racing season!”

“Yes but neck strains are fickle and we can’t let anything go wrong, and due to the nature of your sport, you really—”

“I think I know the nature of my own sport,” Minghao scoffs, and with the way he says it, you don’t know if you should be mad or sad or disappointed or a mix of all three.

“I—” you pause, “I understand your frustration Mr.—Minghao, but my job is to make sure you’re one hundred percent healed before you set foot on the track again, so please be patient and allow yourself to heal.”

Something about those last few words rings in Minghao’s ears, and he zones out for the rest of what you’re saying.

Allow yourself to heal. Fuck.

Minghao stays pretty much silent for the rest of the session, and you’re not quite sure if it’s out of complacency or indifference. You go through some slow mobility exercises, and figure out a good range for him to stay in for the next few days.

“Make sure you practice those movements every day,” you note once you near the end of today’s session. “I’ll send you an email listing all of them with instructions so you remember. Please try and do them every day, and it’ll hopefully speed up the recovery process.”

“Thanks,” Minghao murmurs as he carefully sits back down in his wheelchair.

“Is there anything else you’re doing in your free time right now?” you ask, trying to make casual conversation as you start to type up your list.

“Not really. I watch practice videos and stuff, I guess.”

You hum, not really responding until you finally finish the list and send it to his email. “I sent the list, you should start using it tomorrow. Anyways, I think you should try crocheting,” you tell him casually.

Minghao gives you a sideways glance as he raises an eyebrow. “… Crocheting?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, finally turning around to face. “You know, with yarn and stuff.”

“I know what crocheting is.”

“I-I know,” you say awkwardly, slightly thrown off your game by his bluntness. “You won’t have to move your shoulders, only your forearms, so it’s fine.”

“But why?”

“It’s fun. And a nice way to pass time, especially when you can’t move around a lot. Plus, it’s always good to have something to distract yourself from—” You pause, thinking about how to finish your sentence. “—from shitty stuff, y’know?”

Minghao chuckles, and your heart swells a little when you finally see him break a smile. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a long pause. “Shitty stuff, huh?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Shitty stuff.”

“You and your stupid Americanos,” you sigh, watching Seungwkan grin as the barista hands him his drink.

“Stop acting like you don’t indulge in me too. Getting me all those Americanos in the morning … I should blame you for this addiction!”

“So you admit it’s an addiction!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving your hands in the air. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, leaving you to sit at a table in one of the corners of the cafe. Laughing at his silent admission of defeat, you wait for your drink patiently.

It’s only a few more moments before the barista is back at the counter, calling out, “Honey lavender latte!” With a smile, you walk over, about to reach for the drink before a hand beats you to it.

Frowning, you look up at the man who’s holding your drink before you say, “Hey, I’m sorry, I think that’s my drink.”

“Uh, honey lavender latte? I’m pretty sure I ordered this,” he says. You look at him with a funny expression on your face, eyes darting between the drink you ordered and the drink that’s in his other hand. He catches your suspicion and shakes his head quickly. “It’s for my friend, I ordered for the both of us so I could get us a spot.”

“Oh,” you breath out, figuring that it probably isn’t a lie. “S-sorry for the misunderstanding. I just—” you chuckle, watching some of the tension from the man’s shoulders wither away. “I ordered the same thing—”

“Oh sorry, I—my friend isn’t here yet so you can just take this and I’ll wait for the other to come out,” he offers, watching your face, and you see something in his expression change. “Hey wait, you look really familiar,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows furrow as you silently thank him when he hands you the drink. “Uh, are you sure? I’m sorry, I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.

The man shakes his head and laughs quietly to myself. “No, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere, but I’m just blanking on it right now—sorry this is probably so weird but—” The bell of the front door rings and he shoots his head to see who’s coming in, eyes lighting up. “Oh hey, Hao! Was just waiting for you!”

Hao? Mingh—

You lock eyes as soon as he walks in.

The man from before beams as he walks up to him as your eyes finally break away, and Minghao turns to his friend. “Hansol,” he greets with a small smile, and it’s a pleasant sight to see your patient—who’s more often monotone than not—seem a bit more at ease than before.

“How’re you doing? Was just waiting on your drink and—” the man—Hansol—points at you with eyes as wide as saucers, “—oh by the way, doesn’t she look really familiar?”

You chuckle nervously, breaking out an awkward smile and waving at Minghao who returns you by raising his left arm in a sort of half-wave before turning his attention to Hansol to give him a blank stare. “Yeah, she’s kinda like my physiotherapist dude.”

This time, you chuckle a bit more genuinely, eyes darting between the amused smirk that’s just barely there on Minghao’s lips, and Hansol’s agape stare.

“Ohh shit, yeah that’s where I saw you! Cheol and Miyeon were talking about you when they were booking you for Hao at the hospital, and I saw your picture on the screen,” Vernon explains as the realization hits him.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly. “That’s funny,” you reply as you turn your attention to Minghao, “Good to see you’re getting out of that wheelchair. I bet it feels nice to finally stretch your legs and stuff,” you say. If Minghao could move his neck without eruptions of pain, he’d nod his head.

For now though, he settles on smiling and saying, “Yeah, it’s refreshing.” His eyes wander around you, taking in how you aren’t dressed in your usual work attire, but rather clad in a cute outfit. “Is that my drink?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he points at the coffee you’ve just taken a sip of.

Hansol laughs and shakes his head. “You two got the same drink so when it came out, I just let ‘er have it, since you weren’t here yet.” He glances around before putting his drink down at a nearby table. “Shit, I think I left my laptop in my car,” he murmurs, looking at his friend. “I’m gonna go get it so I can show you those videos I was talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s chill,” Minghao agrees. Hansol smiles at you and then his friend before quickly retreating from the cafe to get to the parking lot, leaving you and the tall man standing in silence. It’s a few passing moments where you awkwardly sip on your drink before something pops in your mind.

“Hey, it’s actually really funny that you’re seeing me right now because—well it’s not funny funny, but it’s a nice coincidence so I guess that counts as funny but—anyways, look, I crocheted this cardigan.” You smile, lifting your arms a little so he can see the dark, navy blue fabric you made yourself, before turning around to show off the light blue, striped pattern on the back. “Cool, right?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty. Nice color scheme and all,” Minghao agrees.

“Thanks. Have you started crocheting? I can send you some videos to get you started,” you offer. Just as Minghao is about to reply, the barista from behind you calls out another order of your drink, causing both of you to glance back. “Oh, you wait there; I’ll get it,” you say, putting your drink down on the same table Hansol did before walking over to grab Minghao’s drink and hand it back to his left hand.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” he says as your fingers brush over each other before falling back to your side. “Isn’t your friend waiting for you?”

“Of course I have to. I’m your doctor! I can’t make you do that,” you reason before pointing back at your best friend. “And are you talking about Seungkwan? Looks like he’s having the time of his life doing—” You turn your head around to glance at him before looking back at Minghao, “—doing god knows what on his phone and—”

“Are you talking about me?” you hear Seungkwan’s voice calling from a few meters away, and the way you cringe has Minghao stifling a giggle. “All good things I hope!” he continues.

“You know it!” you shoot back sarcastically, only to be followed by Seungkwan’s rolling eyes. “That little shit. I pay his bills!” you exclaim, a faux frown making its way onto your face.

Minghao laughs, his head throwing back a little. The small movement flares up a bite of pain in his neck, causing his breath to get stuck in his throat, eyes widening as he slowly shifts back into a comfortable position.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly.

If Minghao could shrug without feeling like his neck would snap in half, he would. Instead, he raises his eyebrow playfully when he says, “Are you seriously apologizing for being funny?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m retracting my apology.”

It’s been around three weeks since you started working with Minghao. He’s warmed up to you a fair amount, and ever since you saw him at the cafe, the air around you two has been lighter.

It’s still a bit awkward at times—skitting around the moments where you wonder if you should say something about the elephant in the room before shaking your head and biting your tongue. Then again, given how often you see Minghao, you’ve gotten used to it.

Seungkwan stops by your office this morning when he walks into work. “Morning,” he greets, dropping a small brown bag by your desk as you file through some papers.

“Ooh, thank you,” you tell him gleefully, taking a break from your task to glance at the chocolate muffin that sits inside of the bag. “I’ve been craving this,” you admit, reaching in and picking out a small piece to stuff into your mouth.

“Your welcome,” Seungkwan sighs, sitting down on the seat in front of you. “Anyways, I found something cool that I don’t think you told me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him skeptically. “Yeah? What is it?”

“You and Xu Minghao are from the same hometown!”

You roll your eyes. “Why do you still keep calling him Xu Minghao? He’s told us to just say Minghao, and even if he didn’t, it’s awkward when you say his full name like that.”

Seungkwan scoffs at you, reaching his hand over to try and flick your forehead but you dodge. “Because he’s Xu Minghao. I can’t believe you aren’t still jumping up and down for getting to work with him, seeing how much you love SECTOR.”

“You want me to be happy that the best racer from my favorite team is injured?”

“Ugh, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, a small hint of a smile peeking from your lips.

“Anyways, you didn’t answer what I actually said. Why didn’t you tell me you guys are from the same area? That’s so cool!”

“I mean I guess,” you say with a shrug.

“And you guys are the same age so—wait, did you go to school together? Oh my god, are you guys like—I don’t know, long lost best friends or something?” Seungkwan’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’d be so cool—I could totally see a movie on this and—wait! If he’s your long lost best friend, where does that leave me? You better not replace me with him!”

You laugh at the progression of his thoughts, almost choking on your second bite of the muffin. “We did go to school together,” you admit. “It’s not like we crossed paths though. He kinda just, I don’t know, existed back then. So no worries for you, you’re not getting replaced any time soon … unfortunately,” you add with mischievous giggle.

“Better not …” Seungkwan huffs.

Minghao comes in a few hours later for his afternoon session. Jeonghan works with him for the first two of the three hours, and you walk in for the last hour. You go over some more mobility exercises, before finally sitting down so you can discuss his progress.

“So things are going really well,” you start to tell him, beginning to list off a couple signs of development which stood out to you. You’re about to commend him on keeping up the exercises everyday, when you notice him staring at the floor with a blank expression. “H-hey, Minghao?” you ask, clearing your voice when he doesn’t respond. “Minghao.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, shoulders tensing for a second before he lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

You chuckle nervously, wondering if it’s okay if you probe just a little. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Minghao replies casually, but you catch the way he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Just thinking about last night’s race.”

“Oh, Singapore?”

“Yeah.”

“I was able to catch a bit of it last night, but I passed out. It seemed intense though—you see Kim’s pit stop?”

“Yeah, it was kinda insane,” Minghao says breathily. His expression is unreadable, but he’s continuing to respond and so you choose to let things go on naturally. “He’s been living up to his talent now that his shitbox is back to what it’s supposed to be.”

“Can’t imagine how frustrating it is.” Fuck, when Minghao’s shoulders drop, it feels like you said something you probably shouldn’t have.

I can imagine, Minghao thinks after hearing your response, but he bites back the words. “Yeah,” he says dejectedly instead.

Silence. This seems like a good chance to change the topic.

“Uh—” Sorry, you want to say, but you choose to hold your breath instead. “I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“We can get you out of the neck brace today,” you tell him happily.

Minghao’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah, your progress has been great. Didn’t want to tell you earlier to get your hopes up, in case something went wrong, but everything has been looking really good and you’re at the point where we usually take any supports like braces off.”

Minghao grins, and it’s a stark contrast from the grim shadow cast on his face just moments earlier. You take a few moments to go over the procedures with him, helping him out of the foamy, firm brace with gentle hands and watchful eyes.

“How’s it feeling?” you ask, setting the brace down by one of your counters so you can dispose of it later.

Minghao lets out a low groan of what you can only assume is relief when he looks up. “Like my skin can finally breathe,” he sighs heavily, a bright smile taking over his features as you turn to face him.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell him, before beginning a quick examination process of the area under the brace and going through some quick motions.

“All done?” he asks. When you nod, he continues. “Kinda early, huh?” he say pointendly, and you both quickly glance at the clock on the wall: his session is supposed to end in 43 minutes.

“Oh yeah, uh—actually … I was wondering if you wanted to try something?” you ask tentatively, and Minghao senses your hesitation. “If you have the time.”

Raising a brow, he nods. “Yeah I don’t mind, what is it?”

“One second,” you tell him, getting up and leaving the room to grab something from your office. Shyly, you walk back in and to your seat, all while holding up a brown bag. “Just some old crocheting supplies I thought you might like,” you murmur, placing it down on the counter.

Minghao presses his lips together tightly, not expecting your words. “Oh, uh—I haven’t really … I haven’t taken up crocheting yet. Sorry, uh—”

“Oh yeah,” you say quickly, holding a hand up, using the other to show him the contents of the bag. There’s some balls of yarn and hooks in a little mess, and you reach in to take some out. “I figured—it’s pretty intimidating to take up by yourself but,” you sigh. “I think it’ll be really nice for you. I recommend it to a lot of my patients who can’t do their regular activities and hobbies … and now given your brace is off, your vision will have more range and it might be really fun for you. No pressure if you don’t like it, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you the ropes,” you admit, holding up a ball of blue yarn.

Catching onto your pun, Minghao chuckles and replies, “Sure, why not.”

“Okay great,” you say excitedly, dropping the bag and pulling your chair up in front of him and next to the table, pulling the supplies out.

Minghao is patient as you show off the different yarns and hooks, explaining the very basics in great detail. You can’t quite tell if he’s being so obedient out of genuine interest, pity, or simply polite compliance, but for whatever reason, you’re thankful. Soon, you’re showing him how you do it yourself before handing him one of your spare hooks and the ball of yarn, letting Minghao test the waters for himself.

“Yeah, just do that and—wait,” you mutter, reaching over to adjust the way he’s holding the hook. Your soft fingers gingerly brush over his knuckles, and Minghao finds himself getting lost for a moment. As you innocently fix the position of his fingers, his stomach churns in a manner he can’t quite name. “You got that?” you ask him suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, zoned out again. What was that?”

“Singapore really got you thinking, huh?” you muse before shaking your head and laughing it off.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, I was just saying you should position your thumb like this or else you might start to cramp up really fast. Happens to me like crazy but I didn’t fix my habit and now I just gotta crochet through the pain.”

Minghao looks at you with an odd expression. “Crochet … through … the pain?”

“That sounded cooler in my head, my bad.”

Minghao laughs. It’s not a tight chuckle, or a soft giggle, it’s a laugh. And it’s bright and full and tugging at your heartstrings in a way you’d rather ignore. “It’s okay.”

“Anyways … here, I’ll show you how to start off with a slip knot and then we’ll take things from there,” you instruct.

Slowly, you walk him through the steps. You learn that Minghao is a good learner. He’s intuitive, but it’s not that you expect much different—you figure no one can get to the level he’s at without being quick to pick up on things.

You’re soon showing him how to start a simple chain, the yarn and hook still in his hands as you work him through the process. “Yeah, now you just gotta yarn over like this—no, the other way, just like that … and—yeah … yeah!” you exclaim excitedly when Minghao slips the hook right through, lengthening the chain. “You got it!”

“Really?” Minghao asks. “Simpler than I thought,” he admits aloud, and you nod vigorously.

“Yeah … crocheting looks hard from afar but once you actually get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing,” you explain, softly taking the yarn and hook from his hands and showing how it looks once you build in more loops.

He watches you carefully—the way your fingers so gently, with such precision; how your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you focus in on the task at hand, tongue unconsciously sticking out from the corner of your mouth, and—

“You’re really good at this,” Minghao murmurs quietly, and you swear he’s so close, his warm breath fans down on your cheeks. You gulp, pausing what you’re doing to look up at him.

“My mother taught me. It’s been a casual hobby ever since.”

You feel Minghao’s eyes bore down on yours intensely, wondering if he’ll respond. Something is screaming at you to pray he’ll keep his mouth shut.

Minghao doesn’t say a word, thankfully. Still, the possibilities of what could be running through his mind haunt you.

You think you should start feeling guilty. You think you should already be feeling guilty when you start to look forward to seeing Minghao. He’s your patient for fuck’s sake—you should be happy he’s not holed up in here everyday.

Still, there’s a weird feeling that festers in your chest when you think about him.

Minghao, and the way he’s so persistent, so patient, so attentive with all the exercises and information you tell him. Minghao, and the polite smile he throws your way at the beginning of each session. Minghao, and the way his eyes light up.

“We’re going to try some new mobility exercises today,” you tell him today with a grin, standing up from your seat. Minghao’s ears perk up as he catches the bright look on your face, and something inside of him swells with hope.

“Really?”

You smile and nod in return. “Yeah! I mean your recovery has been really great so far and I think this is a good point to move on and see if we can test out an even wider range of motion.” Minghao doesn’t really say anything in response, but the way his eyes light up when he watches you explain the exercises tells you enough.

In the hour that follows, you two walk through the exercises, trying out each one, and you’re almost three quarters through all the motions you planned today right before you show him how to angle his shoulder before a new exercise.

“How are things feeling? Anything hurting? Anywhere?” you ask anxiously as Minghao comes out of the last stretch you showed him with a pleasant look on his face.

“No, not like pain pain,” he says casually, leaning back into the chair. “Not the kinda pain from the strain, but I feel a bit of tension on my shoulder from keeping it in that position for too long.”

“Okay great,” you say, typing it down onto your digital notepad. “We’ll try and switch up that one next time so your body is completely relaxed from now on.”

“Thanks. What’s the next exercise?” Minghao asks curiously upon taking in the information. You vaguely think to yourself about how you enjoy his growing warmness—he’s been a lot more positive these past sessions with his rapid progress, and it’s bringing a much lighter atmosphere to Room C.

You explain the movement to him, explaining to him how to lift his shoulders just enough to circle them backwards without too much movement. It’s going pretty smoothly like the other exercises; you explain, Minghao listens, you adjust, Minghao lets you.

Right now you’re about to lean in, hands brushing over his shoulder blade to guide them to a more steep angle, explaining to Minghao how to fix his posture. Your fingers brush over his collarbone and jaw a few times in the process, your eyes keeping steady on making sure he doesn’t make any abrasive movements.

“There we go,” you tell him after showing him how to do the circular movement with his shoulders. “Why don’t you try it by yourself?”

Shooting you a thumbs up, Minghao complies, lifting his shoulder forward first slowly. He’s going through the motions of everything pretty normally—after all this is just like any other exercise so he doesn’t really worry that much until—fuck.

Holy shit, that quick but sharp pain stings so bad.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly when Minghao stills, his eyes widening.

So much. So fucking much, Minghao thinks to himself.

“Talk to me,” you say, moving closer to him so you can move your hands over his shoulder and lead them back down to a natural position.

“It h-hurt for a second. Really bad, but then it was gone,” Minghao says breathily. You purse your lips together and Minghao feels his heart sink to his chest when you turn around and type some stuff he can’t read from where he sits. “Is this like—” He needs to pause to collect himself so the nerves don’t get to him. “—is it bad?” When you hesitate to respond, Minghao already knows his answer. “Fuck.”

“Look, it’s just hurting in that spot for this exercise. The rest of your progress is amazing, but we’re just going to need to take it slower since you’ve probably just overexerted the muscle a little bit.”

“So I’ve been set back, basically,” Minghao says bluntly, his tone doing a full 180 from just a few moments earlier.

“Not a setback …” you sigh. “Just a sign that we need to go slower right now.” You watch him worriedly when he presses his lips together and doesn’t meet your gaze.

“So a setback.”

You gulp. “You can’t think of this like that. I told you from the start that progress is never linear and—”

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” Minghao breaths out, and something about the way he says it with such a curt, tense tone almost makes you lose your composure. “This is—fuck, this my career okay? I can’t afford any setbacks.”

“I know that and that’s why I’m your doctor, okay?” you say, a bit more harshly than you intended.

You don’t understand why you’re letting his hostility get to your head all of sudden—it isn’t like you haven’t had frustrated patients before. Fuck, you’ve had people cry, sob, break down in this same room over slow progress but something about the way he looks so disheartened has your heart clenching.

“I’m here to help you,” you reiterate, your tone more composed than before. “But I can only do that if you let me.”

Minghao eyes flicker between your wide eyes and his hands in his lap. There’s a growing knot that ties in his throat, and he’s too afraid to open his mouth to speak, too afraid of what he might say. Instead, he just huffs and stands up.

“Sorry,” he finally musters up, eyes trained on the ground as you watch him carefully for his next move. “I’m leaving.”

You don’t stop him as he walks away.

When Minghao walks into the reception a few days later, he’s not surprised to see that you aren’t the one greeting him. He thinks back to the way your lips were pressed into a tight line when he walked out last week. It was the last time he’d seen you in the past few days, and some weird mix of worry swirls in his stomach.

Were you avoiding him? He wouldn’t blame you if you were, but he feels guilty for thinking that way. You wouldn’t let something personal get in the way of your work, Minghao knows that for sure.

Still, he bites his tongue when he briefly considers asking Jeonghan where you are. Would that be overstepping? It’s not like there haven’t been sessions where you weren’t there, but something about the thickness in the air around him tells Minghao that there’s something he should be worried about.

As if he could read Minghao’s mind, Jeonghan speaks up. “Doc’ll come in around the end. It’s her mom’s birthday so she’s out for most of the afternoon, but she’ll be back for the last half an hour,” he says casually, not really expecting to turn around to see Minghao looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“H-her—” Her mom? Minghao wants to ask but something stops him from saying it. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not here. Something feels wrong. “That’s fine,” he mutters, pursing his lips before looking at the ground.

He can feel Jeonghan’s curious gaze burning into the back of his skull, but Minghao only doesn’t move as he keeps quiet. They soon fall into the regular pattern of starting off with mobility exercises before doing a check of his range of movement.

It’s nearing the final hour of his session when Jeonghan excuses himself for a moment. Only two minutes passes before there’s a knock at the door, and then some footsteps leading in.

“Good afternoon Minghao,” you greet softly upon walking in. The man glances up at you, eyes widening when he takes in your figure.

“Oh—uh, hey.”

Minghao wants to bash his head into the wall. Hey? Seriously? That’s all he could muster up? Hey?

“Jeonghan gave me the rundown,” you tell him, looking away as you lift a clipboard and squint to read the tiny text. “No more sharp pains … returning mobilily …”

You hum slowly as you read off the notes your assistant left for you, not meeting Minghao’s gaze. He wonders if that’s what you intended. “Seeing as things are going smoothly for now, we’ll continue with the low-risk exercises and—”

“I’m sorry,” Minghao blurts out. He wonders what compels him to do it, but when you finally meet his gaze, he realizes that he just wanted you to look at him.

“Mi—”

“I’m sorry for how I acted last time. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. I was frustrated and took it out on you, and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry.”

Your lips are pursed by the time Minghao is finished. He’s said enough, but when he peers up at you, his eyes speak a story of their own.

“It’s okay,” you respond with no hesitation, before turning back to your clipboard, scanning over it a few more times and then setting it down.

You smooth your hands over your lab coat, and for a moment Minghao wonders what it would feel like to have your palms run down his neck, pressing into his skin so gently yet with such fervor, fingertips ghosting over—

Minghao shouldn’t think like this.

“Jeonghan told me that it’s your mom’s birthday,” he finally breaks the silence. It’s the first time either of you have actually brought it up, and the reality of it all—fuck, it’s hitting you so hard that there’s already tears pooling in yout lashline.

You silently curse yourself for forgetting to tell Jeonghan not to tell Minghao anything. It’s okay, it isn’t like he knew any better, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly, trying to shoo away the tears.

“Mhm,” you hum, hoping he doesn’t probe any deeper. You aren’t sure what you should say.

You’re silent, and Minghao itches to reach forward, to rest his hand on your shoulder, to smile at you, to say all the things he’s been thinking about you but he just can’t. All he can manage is to clear his throat, causing you to look up at him expectantly.

Fuck, what should he say? “I’m um—I’m glad. Glad that she’s uh—that everything worked out.” That’s fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with that statement, Minghao’s almost sure of it so … so why in the world are you crying?

Shoot, did he fuck up? You’re sitting in the chair right next to him, head in your hands as you cover your face and turn away; your cries are soft but just loud enough for Minghao to hear over the rush in his ears, just loud enough for him to feel the ache, just loud enough for him to get the message.

Oh.

The first time you meet Xu Minghao, you’re in middle school. Seventh grade and walking into Algebra, going to sit down on your regular seat. Five minutes into class and a new boy walks into the room, handing your teacher a slip before being directed to sit down at a spot a few tables over.

He’s got short, dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a bit of tall, lanky figure as he slinks down into the chair. Your teacher claps her hands together and announces that there’s a new student in class. His name’s “Xu Minghao,” she said.

You don’t really remember his name at first. It isn’t uncommon for there to be new students on campus. He’s not in many of your other classes you realize as the day goes on, and so he slips your mind. Maybe you work with him for a few assignments throughout the year, but not enough for you to wave at each other when you pass the other in the hallways.

Five years later and you’re in your final year of high school. Time has passed, you have changed, Xu Minghao has changed, but what remains the same is what you are to each other. Strangers.

You’re paired with a stranger for your final senior Literature project.

“Do you want to write a paper, or do the poster?” you ask as he sits down next to you once the pairing assignments. Your teacher had given you two options on how to go about the project. “I don’t really mind either or,” you admit.

Minghao hums, setting his copy of Macbeth on the table before turning to you. “Poster? I think I’ve done enough writing in this past year to last me a lifetime,” he tells you with an obvious sigh.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Were you in Biology?”

He nods. “Regretfully.”

“Oh so you also had to write that whole research paper. Damn, that thing had to have shaved at least ten years off my life.”

“Ditto,” Minghao grumbles, running his hands over his face. “Oh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. I’m so happy we’re in our final semester.”

“So we agree on no paper, just the poster?” you finalize.

Minghao agrees, “Yeah, that’s great.”

One week later and Minghao is at your doorstep. “Cool set up,” he notes, stepping into your room, looking down at the poster splayed out with markers all over.

You grin. “Thanks—I kind of like being artsy and stuff sometimes so I was pretty happy to do this when you said you also wanted to do the poster.”

“Seems like I made a good choice then,” he replies, sitting down on the opposite end of the poster and pulling out a notebook and his book. “I did some work and got a bunch of lines that we could use as citations in different parts.”

“That’s great,” you say, picking a pen. “Let’s get started then?”

You two get straight to work, and all goes smoothly. Minghao is a good worker, you’ve noticed. His friends are quite fun—you’ve seen him with them in the hallways sometimes—but you start to realize that Minghao doesn’t let himself sacrifice his work ethic for fun.

You make quite some progress over the next hour or two, and you’re just about to bring up one of your ideas. “So over here, I was thinking we could write out the context of the play and then—” You’re cut off by the voice of your older brother at your door. He’s looking down at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line as he speaks.

“Mom’s starting another cycle of chemo this Thursday so—oh, sorry,” Beomgyu says quickly upon looking up and seeing you have a visitor. “Come to my room when you’re done,” he mutters before turning on his heel.

The silence that envelopes your room is deafening.

You don’t say a word as you take a deep breath and pick up a different colored marker. You clear your throat. “So back to what I was saying …”

The next time you work on the poster, it’s at Minghao’s house.

You wear a blue gown at graduation. It’s a sunny day in June, and you’re sweating a little through the silk fabric, but it’s okay.

Your father and Beomgyu are there in the stands, but your eyes can’t help but be pulled to the empty seat next to them. Your mother said she’d try to make it, but broke the news last night that it was a dream too high up to reach.

It’s okay, you had told her, but as you clutch your diploma close to your heart, all you can think is, no it’s not, no it’s not, no it’s fucking not.

You sit through the rest of the ceremony with a silence and all around you, you see your peers’ smiling faces, the encouraging words of the dean, the cheers of the crowds, and somehow you feel so lost in it all. When you’re finally dismissed, everyone claps and revels once more, but somehow you can’t find the voice in your throat to join them.

Slipping through the crowds of people who line up to take pictures with their friends, family, and all the sort, you slip out of the small stadium and into some hallway.

“Fuck!” you finally cry out, raising your hand up and whipping it forward towards the brick wall. You wince, bracing yourself for the pain, but the sting never comes. Something warm envelopes your wrist, and when you finally blink your eyes open, you see a stranger.

“I don’t understand what you’re going through,” Minghao finally says. “I won’t pretend I do either, but it’ll be okay.” He hugs you and your face is pressed into Minghao’s own blue gown that is about to turn a few shades darker.

You cry. You cry harder than you think you’ve ever cried before.

You don’t know what it is about the way he speaks. Maybe it’s the way he holds you. Maybe it’s the way he smells. Maybe it’s everything, but whatever it is or isn’t, you don’t stop crying and for a gracing moment, you bask in catharsis.

And then, you hear Beomgyu’s voice calling for you from a nearby hallway, so you pull back. Minghao presses his lips together and lets you go, hands dropping to the side as you wipe away the tears. There’s a darker blue splotch in the middle of his chest, but he says nothing of it.

You don’t say a word as you step back—the only communication you share is a nod, but you swear on every last star in the sky that he has said more words to you in that moment than anyone has told you in your entire lifetime.

You don’t see Minghao’s face until it’s seven years later and he’s plastered on the screen as SECTOR’s newest recruit. He’s got phenomenal potential as an F1 racer—greatest new talent in a while—you hear the host of the channel say, but as you look at his picture on the screen, all you see is the face of a stranger who’s held you tighter than anyone before.

The last time you saw Minghao, it was through tear-blurred vision as you scurried out of Room C—you had to tell Jeonghan through broken sniffles to wrap up the session with Minghao—that the weight of the day had gotten to your head and that you needed to take a breather.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. You retreated to your office soon after, staring at the photo of you and your mother that sat at the corner of your table, and then you cried a little more.

It’s the next day when you’re back in the office. Two patients had just finished up, and you’re sitting in your office, filing through some emails when you hear the familiar ringing of the front door opening. You furrow your eyebrows to yourself, not recalling having any other patients scheduled for at least another two hours.

Had Jeonghan and Seungkwan taken their break earlier than you thought? No, that can’t be possible because they always let you know when they’re heading out and—

“Doc!” you hear Seungkwan’s voice call out to you from down the hall. “Could you come here for a sec’?”

Frowning, you close your laptop and stand up, walking out the doorway and down the hallway towards the front entrance of the clinic. “What is i—oh.” The question dies on your tongue when you see Minghao standing in the reception.

Something in your stomach churns at the sight of him—eyes slightly blown out, lips parted but somehow curved downward in a way that has your own lips frowning. The events of the past few days crashes down on you, and you bite down on your bottom lips in hopes that it’ll ground you in reality.

Seungkwan stands behind the main desk, looking at you with some sort of awry expression, and you catch Jeonghan coming down from the other hallway to catch the odd situation. Minghao doesn’t seem to mind though, eyes zoning in on you.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. You feel Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s gazes burn into the back of your skull.

Glancing at them, you point to the door. “You guys can take your lunch break now,” you tell them before turning your attention to Minghao. “Let’s go to Room C?”

He follows you in an instant, slipping into the seat that he always does as you close the door behind you and walking up to stand in front of him.

You can hear the words already coming together on his tongue—I’m sorry—and so you open your mouth before Minghao can even say it.

“I’m sorry,” you say, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

“No, I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea you—” Minghao stops himself. He doesn’t know how much is too much.

It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he says. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since graduation.”

“Me too,” you respond in an instant. “I see so much of myself in you,” you tell him.

“Stop, I—our situations aren’t comparable and—”

“Let me be the judge of that, yeah?” you cut him off with a small smile and through tears, cupping his face. The skin over his cheek bones are soft when you run your thumbs over them. “When everything is going wrong and you’re so angry, and you’re blaming all the wrong people but you can’t help it, and it makes you feel worse and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

“Yeah.”

You inhale steadily, feeling hot water meet your hands and trickle down to your wrists. Minghao is crying, and suddenly you are hit with waves of deja vu. “I get it, okay?” you tell him, even though you know that Minghao already knows. You get it better than anyone. “It’ll be okay.”

The echo of his words from all those years ago crashes down on you, and suddenly Minghao pulls your arms down causing you to hunch over so your face is right in front of his.

“I’ve thought about you everyday since then.” The words come out of your mouth in a soft whisper. “Even when she passed away a few months later.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes closing and head titling forward so that your foreheads press against each other. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, stroking his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry—you were right. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“I—I’m sorry, I just—”

Something about the way Minghao says the word sorry not from his throat, but from his stomach, has your mind twisting in ways that you can’t comprehend. The sound is so guttural and heart-wrenching, and this time you want to cry because he’s got nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing.

And so you kiss him.

You kiss Minghao because he is no longer a stranger. Because he is crying for you and you might as well cry for him. Cry for him, but you have done enough crying to last you a lifetime and so you kiss him instead, because they speak the same words: I love you.

And his lips are soft, his tongue warm, his hand ghosting over your arm is gentle, and you can hear it. You hear it in the way he moves against you—he understands and you want to cry again because he’s always understood, and so you don’t cry but only kiss him deeper.

“I made you something,” he admits. “It’s in the car.”

You’re thankful you sent your two coworkers out when you did, sparring all four of you the awkwardness when you and Minghao slip out of Room C and out the clinic towards the parking lot and to his car.

He pulls a blanket out from the passenger seat. It’s hardly big enough to cover your lower half but it’s bright and blue and warm, and somehow you feel your eyes well up with tears that you can’t seem to stop this time.

“Did you—did you make this?” you choke out as Minghao stands in front of you, handing the cloth over as you run your palms over the loose threads and yarn that poke through.

“Crocheted it myself,” he tells you, standing from a couple inches above, as you marvel over his work. Minghao thinks he’s done a poor job—you could probably do better—but you clutch the blanket with such vigor that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. “You’ve helped me so much,” he says instead.

“Fuck,” you mutter over harsh breaths. “Y-you made this.”

“You taught me,” he corrects, and that’s when the dam breaks.

And this time Minghao hugs you, and you can tell he’s being careful about his neck and in all your frenzy you almost want to push him away and say, “Don’t move so much!” but then his arms fold in on you like a blanket of their own and you crumble.

You crumble into happiness because through everything you’ve ever been through, Minghao still holds you tighter than one holds onto life itself.

“I don’t think I can come here on Sunday next week,” you tell your boyfriend as you peer down at your phone. You’re leaning over his kitchen counter going between looking at some emails and glancing at the screen.

Minghao groans, and you bite back a smile. “Are you serious? Why?”

“Yes I’m serious,” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “My brother’s visiting town for a bit.”

“And I can’t meet him, why?” Minghao asks with a raised brow.

You laugh. “Good point. I haven’t told him I’m dating yet though. Might be too big of a ball drop if I tell him I have a boyfriend right away. A boyfriend who’s SECTOR’s best racer, might I add,” you say, pouring yourself a glass of water from the fridge before joining Minghao on the couch.

“It would be a good surprise though, right?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat,” you shoot sarcastically. “But seriously. I’ll see if I can get you two to meet, but I really can’t see you on Sunday. I have to pick Beomgyu up from the airport.”

“Got it,” Minghao agrees, shuffling closer to you as you both focus on the TV. A live interview with Kim Mingyu plays on the screen, the young man talking about his recent rise in recognition. You two sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Minghao speaks up.

“I fucking hate not being able to do anything,” he groans, shifting onto your shoulder slightly. His condition’s gotten exponentially better in past couple of weeks, but you instructed for him to wait at least two more weeks before fully getting back to training.

He’s been restless ever since, you’ve started to notice. “Do I really need to wait?” he mutters, lips close to your ear as you cuddle into his embrace.

You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yes! I told you—it’s a part of the process.”

“Fuck the process, I wanna drive again!”

“Too bad I guess,” you say with a shrug, turning your attention to the TV. The channel moves on from the interview to talk about some updates, and eventually somewhere in the mix, Minghao’s name comes up, and you hear the man next to you curse under his breath.

Chewing on your tongue, you debate for a few moments on what to do before reaching for the remote to shut the TV off.

“Hey! I was watching th—”

“Do you ever stop complaining?” you huff, stepping out of his embrace much to Minghao’s dismay. “Stop moving,” you order him, sliding down onto your knees in front of his legs.

“What are you do—oh.” You hear the words dry on his tongue when you nudge your body between his thighs, inching closer to his groin.

“You’re so restless,” you hum, trailing your fingers from his knees, over his thighs, and finally let the ghost over the growing tent under his sweatpants. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you suggest, toying with the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.

“O-okay,” Minghao agrees, and you grin at the way you see his cheeks flush pink when you inch the fabric off of his pants. His cock springs out, hardening under your gaze as it slaps against his lower adobe that’s still covered by his shirt.

You think for a moment to help Minghao out of his shirt too, but with the pretty pearl of precum dribbling off his slit, veins pressing up all against the length of his cock—all of him aching just for you—you start to feel your mouth water, forgetting about anything that isn’t having Minghao’s cock in your mouth.

“Careful with the right arm, ‘kay?” you tell him, a sly smirk tugging at your lips when you bring them down, dragging them over the base of his length all the way up to the glossy tip where you place a wet kiss.

“Y-yeah—fuck baby,” Minghao grunts when you envelope your lips around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling over the slit at the top as you do so. His left arm makes its way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp when you pull back to take a deep breath.

Saliva drips down the corner of your lips, and as you look up at Minghao with wide, glossy eyes, he thinks he might bust in on the spot. “Go on baby,” he murmurs, using his firm grip on your head to nudge your lips closer to his pink tip. “Put it in …” he instructs, and when you grin and open your lips wide once more, Minghao knows he’s too far gone to be saved.

“You’re so hard Hao,” you whisper against him, tongue tracing constellations over the base of his cock when you reach to cup his balls, massaging them under your palms.

“Fuck, just like that baby,” Minghao moans, and the sound is so guttural it has your own pussy clenching around nothing. Your skin burns when you take him into your mouth again, cock sliding further down your mouth than before.

He’s so thick, and you feel every last curve of his cock, every last vein, against your cheeks, pressing against your tongue—Minghao is all you can taste, and you might go drunk on the sensation alone.

And he isn’t faring quite well above you either—his hand in your hair has got a firm hold but if anything, Minghao is losing touch with reality. Your mouth is so soft and so warm, your tongue so meticulous with the way it’s swirling around his tip when you slip off his cock before pushing your mouth back down on him—he’s going fucking crazy.

“Baby—oh baby,” the words rumble at the base of his chest, egging you on. With every bob of your head, you start to take him down further until his fat tip is battering against the back of your throat and yeah, it’s got tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but he’s moaning and grunting and squirming all for you and you just can’t seem to fucking stop.

“Shit, shit, shit—baby, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns when you deep throat all of him, your nose nearly pressing against his pelvis as you press your eyes tight and revel in the sound of his moans, the feeling of his hands in your hair.

You take his slice of warning as a token of advice, pulling back for only a breath before attempting to do the same thing again, shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, rubbing whatever you can’t with your palms as wetness smears all over your lips and cheeks.

“Oh—fuck, I’m—”

When Minghao cums, it’s with his chest singing your name. Breathy moans—calls for you—as you suck him through the high, hot white painting the inside of your cheeks and tongue. You pant heavily when you finally pull yourself off of him, swallowing all that is left of him in your mouth, and then he looks at you with flushed cheeks and you both grin.

And when you climb up, Minghao hugs you. He hugs you like a blanket—like the blanket he made you, the blanket you taught him to make—and you two bask in this moment because Minghao is no longer stranger, but he is here and he is in your arms and you are in is, and there isn’t any other place you’d rather be.

a/n: mika ramble time! whatever demonic sickness has been haunting me for the past 5 days will NOT get the best of me. i have been aching to get this fic out since like september and it was initially supposed to be posted on hubbie's bday but :/ unfortunately i was a bit late bc life gets in the way ;c overall i'm really happy w it! personally, i think this is among the most emotional fics i've written, and i am extremely proud of myself for some parts of this so !! yea !! if u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, pls feel free to leave comments / reblogs >_< they mean the world to me ^^

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #svt angst #minghao smut #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #xu minghao fanfic #xu minghao angst #minghao angst #the8 x reader #the8 angst #📝 writing #flight of the stars

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penny-anna · 2 months

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been reading a lot of Owl House fanfic lately & have some Hunter Thoughts (long post + cw for discussion of child abuse):

run into the take a couple of times now that the other Coven heads (in particular well-meaning characters like Darius & Raine) should have done more to help Hunter. and while i do agree that uhh almost every adult in the show let Hunter down i have 2 responses to that

FIRSTLY: i could be wrong (i watched s2 in a pretty choppy manner) but i don't think there's any indication that Hunter's abuse is happening anywhere other than behind closed doors. it's very possible that the outward image of Hunter & Belos's relationship is 'this is the emperor's special favourite nephew who he dotes upon'.

it's like. self-evidently the case that Hunter is being neglected emotionally but probably no-one had any reason to think he was in physical danger. remember that most people were under the impression that Belos was a benevolent ruler & the minority who'd figured out what his game could have reasonably assumed that for all his faults he wouldn't hurt Hunter.

Darius expresses concern about his social life but seems to read uhh nothing whatsoever into this interaction:

which suggests to me that he hasn't seen any prior indication of physical abuse & just assumes Hunter is being very dramatic!

(side note i just noticed Flapjack covering his eyes with his wings gdlkjfhglfjh omg Flapjack)

& all of this is very plausible! let's face it not all abusive parents IRL give off obvious red flags to anyone external to the situation.

SECONDLY: to be blunt, the position Belos put Hunter in was such that i don't know if anyone could have helped even if they wanted to.

Hunter being elevated to the position of Head of the Emperor's Coven is clearly an unusual move & one that was made in direct response to Lilith defecting. It's a clear signal that Belos doesn't trust his remaining Coven Heads and wants to keep a closer eye on them. they have good reason to believe that the Golden Guard could u know. report any of them to Belos as a Traitor at any time.

whether Belos would actually automatically believe him is another matter but like, as stated above, they don't know how Belos treats Hunter behind closed doors. for all they know one word from Hunter could get them idk petrified.

their behaviour towards him isn't nice but his presence is both threatening and also kind of insulting. he's wrapped up in the internal politics of the court in a way that makes it difficult to anyone to respond to him with anything other hostility. which is uhh not a position Belos should ever have put his 16 year old ''''nephew'''' into.

for all Darius knows if he starts being nice to the Golden Guard & relaxes in his presence he's gonna end up saying something that'll get back to Belos. he doesn't let down his guard around Hunter until seeing u know. multiple clear signals that he's actually willing to lie to Belos.

like. Hunter is dangerous! bcos we as the audience are so familiar w this Hunter:

easy to forget that most people in the Boiling Isles only know this guy:

he's a very real threat to everyone around him by virtue of being the emperor's Right Hand! just look at how Odalia reacts to him showing up:

people are actively afraid of the Golden Guard & him being 16 doesn't make him any less of a deadly threat. he's functionally untouchable. trying to suggest that hey, maybe the head of the police force shouldn't be a 16 year old boy is liable to get you thrown in the conformatorium.

like. even if someone did put together that Hunter was in danger from Belos what are they gonna do about it? u can't exactly call social services on the God Emperor.

#the owl house

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neteyamsyawntu · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 09

A c c i d e n t a l

S t i m u l a t i o n

Neteyam x Na’vi!Reader

PART 1

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, dirty talk, slight smut, sexual tension, slow burn, mentions of handjob

“Schht! Ow!” The future olo’eyktan, had been childishly hissing in the healer’s tent for the past 10 to 15 minutes. Rolling “your eyes you continue to work on his arm, his body was littered with small wounds. “Stop acting like a baby, Tey. It’s just a little medicine.” You coo mockingly, trying your best to hide your aggravation with his behavior. “Why are you mad at me? I feel as if Kiri is rubbing off on you. You’re adapting her attitude.” Neteyam grumbles, gritting his teeth as you moved to work on a slash across his chest. “Maybe if you weren’t acting like a skxawng trying to impress those girls, instead of looking where you were going while swinging through trees, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.”.

Neteyam merely grunts in disapproval looking off at an opposite direction of the tent. “One of those girls is to be my future mate. My dad has instructed me to try and get along with her.”, “So you decided to make a fool out of yourself?” You shoot back with a sly smirk. Neteyam’s jaw tightens as his eyes meet yours, an odd sort of melancholy mirrored in his eyes through the obvious frustration. Your playful expression softens, bringing your hands, along with the medicated cloth you were using to clean his wounds to your lap, “What’s the matter? Do you not like her?”. A sigh fills the space between you both after a brief silence, “It’s not that I do not like her, Tsantì is a nice woman, very pretty... I just don’t know her, but my father says she is the most promising of Mo’at’s students to become tsahìk.”. You process his words for a moment, nodding as understanding sets in. Shifting your position you bring the cloth back to his chest lightly dabbing the medicated fabric on his wound again, “Well… I have spent some time with Tsantì working alongside her. I could tell you about her if you’d like?” You offer, delicately dabbing the medicine into his chest, keeping your eyes focused on the task.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Neteyam asks, eyes slightly widened as if he were somewhat surprised by your generosity. Quirking a brow at him, your playful smile slowly forming back onto your lips, “Of course, it wouldn’t exactly be beneficial to our clan if our future leaders didn’t get on well.” Neteyam gently snickers at your assessment, nodding in agreement, slightly leaning into your touch as you silently urge him forward before beginning to gently lather a sort of antiseptic cream on his wound. “How many conversations have you had with her?” You ask in a soft voice, remaining primarily focused on not applying too much uncomfortable pressure to the injury, “Nothing more than some passing greetings.” He admits a bit embarrassed, his eyes now watching your concentrated expression tentatively as you work when your gentle touch causes him to slightly shiver. “Well… she is kind, very empathetic, I’ve noticed that she seems to soak up other’s emotions like a sponge rather easily- not to say that it’s a bad quality to have, especially as the future tsahìk.” You note, correcting yourself quickly, a little insecure that you maybe had come off as a bit rude, your eyes flicking up to look at Neteyam before bringing your focus back to his toned chest before noticing another gash on his pelvis, peeking out from under the band of his loincloth.

“Lean back for me a bit…” You instruct, wiping your fingers on a clean cloth before grabbing the cloth from earlier, dipping it into another dose of liquid medication. Obediently, Neteyam leans back on his palms, his eyes falling to where you were looking on his lower abdomen adjacent to his hip bone. “I’m surprised your tewng didn’t get cut clean off…” you trail off as your fingers gently hook under the band of the garment to get a quick glimpse at the damage, to which you could feel Neteyam stiffen beneath your fingertips at your seemingly comfortable action. “I’m going to have to pull this down a bit to properly assess the injury.” You say nonchalantly, the act itself being seemingly routine and it wasn’t like you were asking him to take the entire garment off, yet that didn’t stop the slight heat that grew on the tips of Neteyam’s ears. “Uh.. sure, umm let me-“ Shifting his hips a bit, Neteyam slips his thumbs beneath the top hem of his loincloth, shimmying the garment down enough to reveal the reasonably sized cut, laying it to sit just below his v-line.

Your eyes can’t help, but drift along the line of his pelvis, an obvious flutter manifesting in your core as you find yourself admiring his toned abs, down his pelvis, subtly biting your lip before being snapped back to your senses, “Y/N?”. Hastily clearing your throat, ringing out the medicated cloth, you quickly press it against the wound, in your hurried movements, cause Neteyam’s hips to jerk at the sting, letting out a loud groan from behind the confines of his clenched teeth. “Sorry- sorry..” you quickly spit, easing up on the pressure you were applying. With a strained sort of chuckle, Neteyam sends you a reassuring look, “It is alright… so, you were saying about Tsantì? What are some of her interests?”. At this point Neteyam wasn’t necessarily curious about getting to know more about his future mate, instead he took enjoyment in watching you work, your soft touches against his skin slowly starting to become addicting. With a deep sigh of your own, you shift to lean on your hip, placing a hand on the mat next to his side to get a better angle at the wound, your head now close to his shoulder. “She likes to cook, she’s actually quite good at it.”, “Is that all?” Neteyam hums, his eyes half lidded as he stares at you captivatingly. His shift in tone has your ears flicking, your eyes lifting to meet his for a moment, finally allowing his alluring expression to sink in, absentmindedly glancing down at his lips before moving back for a moment to place the cloth down and scoop another bit of ointment onto your fingers. “She also enjoys fishing, although she isn’t much of a hunter.” You say, gently soothing your fingers over the cut, the sounds of Neteyam’s soft breaths fanning against your ear as you work, has your mind somehow feeling like mush.

Neteyam’s own mind, as well as his blood was racing. His veins feeling tensed as your fingers traced so close to his nether region. His brows creased slightly at the first initial twitch he felt beneath his tewng, knowing that he had reached the point of no return. Your fingers worked the ointment into his skin so fervently, his loins couldn’t help, but stir at the contact. On top of having you sitting so close to him, your scent was numbing his senses, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from panting. The silent tension between the two of you was brewing just beneath the surface as you continued to talk about his betrothed, which Neteyam had completely forgotten about at this point. Your bodies moving on their own to reach further and further to push the boundary enough just to get close to scratching that little bit of need, which greedily grew with each passing moment.

Soon enough Neteyam’s nose was buried in the crook of your neck, lips parted fighting desperately to fight the urge to suck on your supple skin. Your face was hot to the touch, now noticing the very prominent tent in his loincloth, your hand floating lower and lower as you continued to rub his pelvis until your fingertips grazed the band of his low placed loincloth teasingly. “Y/N…” Neteyam purrs longingly into your ear, “Hmm?”gently grabbing your wrist, he guides your hand to where you and him both wanted you to touch most, “…Keep going~.”. Not wasting another minute, your hand slips under the already loose garment, cupping his erection, Neteyam groaning in your ear, finally receiving the touch he had been yearning for, his arm wrapping around your backside to pull you flush against his chest. Your lips part with a heavy sigh when his hand around your back moves downward, his fingers tracing over the base of your tail, giving it a tender stroke before descending further to take a handful of your asscheek, kneading at the flesh hungrily with a groan.

While your hand hesitantly begins a steady pace leisurely stroking his cock, Neteyam finally gives in to his urges, allowing his nose to brush against the soft skin of your neck before locking his lips around your pulse. As your own soft whimper of pleasure rings in your ears, the thought of your current circumstances start to conflict with your actions; your hand wrapped around the throbbing dick of the olo’eyktan’s eldest son, your future olo’eyktan in fact, when minutes before you had been telling him about how great of a person his mate-to-be was. Another moan escapes from you as Neteyam roughly gropes your ass, indicating from the amount of force used that he wanted you to climb into his lap. “Tey-Teyam what are we doing?” You murmur breathlessly, pulling back a bit in order to get him to look at you. Neteyam’s eyes catch yours for a moment before moving back to the side of your face, gingerly pulling at your earlobe with his teeth, “Do you want to stop?” He mumbles softly to you, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine. Stopping would’ve been the responsible thing to do, yet even as the words left his mouth, you were finding it hard to respond, “I mean… shouldn’t we? What about Tsantì?”.

To your surprise Neteyam simply chuckles at your question, leaning back enough to look into your eyes once more, yet his expression wasn’t at all condescending. It was calm, his gaze dripping with affection. His hand on your rear gently glides up your back, his fingertips caressing your spine with care as he guides his hand up to cup your cheek. Just as you had done before, you watch as Neteyam’s eyes drift down to your lips, absentmindedly licking his own to moisten them, and then when his eyes move back to yours, you suddenly find yourself breathless. “I don’t want Tsantì.” He hums so softly you weren’t even sure if he had spoken at all at first, yet the words were still spoken so clearly and with such conviction. Then little by little, Neteyam inches his face closer to yours, stopping for a moment to wait for you to reject his advances. To his relief, you stay perfectly still, just watching him lean closer into your space and once your noses are delicately brushing against one another, both of your eyes seem to instinctively flutter closed, your lips embracing so perfectly and time itself seems to stand still.

The minute you feel his lips about to part from yours, you can’t help, but follow after him, gently taking his face in your hands to bring him back to you. Neteyam smiles against your lips, giving you another kiss before finally pulling away, nuzzling his nose against yours, somewhat panting, “Needy little, syulang…” Neteyam snickers. You laugh softly with him, slowly coming back to your senses, your ear suddenly perking to approaching voices coming from outside the hut. With a gasp you hastily retract your hand that was still settled in Neteyam’s loincloth, pulling it back up to an appropriate level around his hips and scrambling to your feet to “fetch extra bandages”. The tent flap opens to reveal none other than Tsantì and Kiri with baskets of fresh herbs at their hips, “Oh, Neteyam you’re still here. I’m sorry I couldn’t patch you up myself, I was helping your sister with some of her chores.” She says in a light airy voice, a sweet and pure voice that suddenly has guilt creeping into every inch of your body, your tail instinctively sticks close to your leg insecurely. “That is alright, Y/N has done a good job patching me up.” Neteyam says reassuringly, catching a glance at you from over his shoulder as you walk back with the bandages, ‘act normal Y/N, act normal’ you think to yourself, kneeling down next to Neteyam with the fresh bandages, “Right, well I would’ve been done sooner, if you weren’t squirming so much.” You say teasingly, beginning to bandage up his wounds, starting on his arm then down to his chest. “Yup that sounds like our mighty warrior.” Kiri teases along with you, walking with Tsantì to the back of the hut to place down their baskets. As Tsantì passes the two of you, her eyes drift down Neteyam’s body catching sight of the pitch in his loincloth, that he had tried to hide by subtly changing his position, before quickly shifting to the scratch peeking out from his under the garment. “Oh Y/N I think you may have missed a cut.” She says simply, placing the basket down on the table on the far back. You suddenly freeze, your eyes shifting to look at Neteyam for guidance, his own eyes trying to portray as much comfort as possible. “Oh I uh-“, “-If you are tired I could do it for you. I don’t mind dealing with a bit of an antsy patient.” Tsantì suggests innocently. You could tell by her tone she was just trying to be helpful, but something about the insinuation that she would be the one touching him made your blood boil, “No that’s alright, I’ve already gotten this far. We’ll meet you both later with the rest of the clan at supper.” Your heart is hammering in your chest while Neteyam gives you a subtly supportive wink. “Oh sure… no worries. I’ll see you at dinner, Teyam.” She says throwing a look at him from over her shoulder as her and Kiri exit the hut.

After listening to the sound of their footsteps disappear, you and Neteyam both huff a loud sigh exaggeratedly, you resting your head on Neteyam’s shoulder. “That was too close.” You groan in embarrassment, your heart still beating wildly in your chest. “It was… but I admit it was a bit exciting too, almost getting caught.”. You quirk a brow at Neteyam, scoffing at his seemingly calm demeanor. “You are insufferable” you say with a roll of your eyes, “And you are just too addicting my syulang…” Neteyam purrs, leaning close to your face again, resting his forehead against your temple while you wrap up the wound on his pelvis, “Tonight… after the clan’s meal, meet with me at the top of hometree, by the ikran nest…please…” he requests, nuzzling into your head softly, taking small whiffs of your scent. You tossed the offer around in your head for a moment. He wanted time with you, time alone, away from prying eyes, away from the eyes of his betrothed. The guilt in your stomach seemed to be overpowered by the excited pumping of your heart.

Maybe you could make this work…

Tag list: @pandoraslxna @dvxsja @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @neteyamsoare@tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsikran @oceanstar19 @hadesbabygurl @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang @anonymousailurophile @netyamstruelove @eyrina-avatar @justcaptiannoodles @teymars @neteyamyanw3 @eyweveng

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #avatar twow #avatarsmut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x reader #kinktober #avatar kinktober #lunaskinktober2023

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beautysamour · 9 months

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Heyyy

Omg I love your writing so much 💖💖

I was wondering if u could do one with kenji where your warners twin and you're kinda funny and chill and basically warner and kenji r arguing or smthng and he comes and complains to u.

Sorry if its too specific it just came to me lol

Do I wanna know?

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kenji kishimoto x reader

✧ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: kenji kishimoto, mentioned aaron warner

✧ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Kenji fully believes you’re the better twin

✧ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

✧ 𝐚/𝐧: !! despite being aaron’s twin, there’s no physical description of the reader, no specification for whether you’re identical to him or not !! thank you for the request 💓

“And then— and then! He tells me that he doesn’t even like me as a human so why would he love if me I was a worm,” he looks at you with an offended expression, “Can you believe that?!”

“No,” you say sarcastically with an amused smile, “Totally out of character for my brother.”

Kenji huffs and drops himself on your bed, “He’s terrible, y/n, I can’t believe you grew up with him.”

You snort, Kenji and your brothers relationship was…you don’t even know how to explain it. They weren’t exactly on bad terms but they did get in each others nerves—the complete opposite to your relationship with Kenji.

You always liked Kenji even when he was a soldier, and he liked you two. You didn’t have any power at Sector 45 so Kenji naturally separated you from your brother, at the time. But as time went on, Aaron grew on Kenji and your almost certain Kenji has also grown on your brother.

“He really isn’t that bad, Kenji,” you try not to laugh when he groans at your response.

“Yeah, well compared to you, he’s nothing like the saint you are.”

“Oh, woah,” you draw out your words sarcastically, “A saint.”

“Yes!” He exclaims, “If I haven’t made it obvious already, you’re the better twin.”

You laugh. It’s not a surprise that Kenji still preferred you over your brother, considering that he was your friend first, but Kenji’ dramatics never failed to entertain you. “I mean you did say he was the worst, didn’t take a lot to put two and two together and figure you liked me more.”

“See? I’d argue you’re also the smarter twin too.”

Your mouth drops in fake surprise, “Really?”

“Uh huh, I mean you love me so that automatically makes you smarter,” he says as he pushes himself up with his left arm.

You laugh again, “So is that all my brother did?”

“Y—,” he widens his eyes as if he remembered something a fully pushes himself up on your bed, “No actually. He said the only reason he tolerates—tolerates!— me is because we’re dating.”

You nod your head, it wasn’t really a lie if you were being honest. It was funny to you though.

You scoot closer to him putting on your best puppy dog eyes and look at him through your lashes—you try not to laugh when he visibly stiffens, “Yes….?”

You grab one of Kenji’ hands and put it in your lap. You start to play with his fingers, once you reach his middle you start talking, “Are you upset by that?”

“Um…all jokes aside just a little?”

You hum. “So are you saying that you’d rather be on his good side than mine?”

Kenji rearranges himself in your bed so he’s properly facing you and grabs your hands, completely falling for your little trick, “No! No, no, I was mainly joking—“

“Are you sure?” You take one of your hands from his grasp, “You seem awfully affected by it.”

“Well—of course. He’s most likely going to be my brother in law, I of course care about his opinion. But his—I don’t know what to call it—approval? I’d rather have yours over his any day.”

You remain quiet for a few moments dragging out the silence. Then you start to laugh, and Kenji starts to get confused.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No, but it’s just a little funny that you thought I was actually sad you were talking about my brother so much,” you say in between laughs, “I’m glad you care so much about his opinion.”

“Well—“

“And brother in law?”

Kenji opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He looks as if he got caught stealing something.

“Uh,” he starts to say, “Sorry if I—“

You shake your head and grab onto the collar of his shirt, you pull forward and make sure that your lips connected with his to shut him up.

Kenji relaxes into the kiss almost immediately, and you only pull away when his hands start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, “Kenji,” you say softly and also as quiet as a whisper, “I’m not upset. I’m actually happy you’ve though of, you know, with me.”

For what felt like the longest time since, Kenji smiled and said, “How could I not with you?”

#kenji kishimoto x reader #kenji x reader #kenji kishimoto fanfic #kenji kishimoto imagine #kenji kishimoto x you #kenji kishimoto #kenji kishimoto fanfiction #shatter me x reader #shatter me #shatter me fanfic

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transmascaraa · 3 months

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HAAIII ME AGAIN had a new idea all of a sudden

OK SO HEAR ME OUT RIGHT. hcs with gaming, scara and uhhhmm. Blade hsr with autistic gn reader!?!2?1!2??! basically like reader tells them theyre autistic, how would the charas react? would they treat the reader any different? would their view of their s/o change???

IT LOOKS RLLY CUTE IN MY HEAD OK TRUDT

+ if it isnt too much im asking here, how theyd interact w reader when they go nonverbal bc theyre upset :3

THANK U MOOTIE ALSO HOPE UR SOING WELL!!!!

multiple characters headcannons!

you tell him that you're autistic.

characters: gaming, wanderer, blade x autistic!gn!reader

author's note: alright this one and might do one more tonight it's fucking 20 minutes till 1am lmao might do a few tmrw i hope i do lol ANYWAYSSS I'M DOING GOOD THANKS I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL TOO<33 LOVE THE REQQ

✧ Gaming

-so accepting fr. sweetheart. perfect bf. everything good.

-when you tell him he'd be so sweet and understanding frfr

-will literally sacrifice his whole being for you

-"you're autistic? that doesn't change anything, my dear!" he will love you eternally no joke.

-and when you get upset, you go nonverbal.

-so he spends hours trying to learn exactly what you mean by the gestures you use so thag he can help. he'll take it slow.

-he'll be patient with you.

-i promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✷ Wanderer

-nobody knows if it's sass or sarcasm at this point.

-HE WOULD LOOK AT YOU AS IF YOU TOLD HIM THAT YOU LIKE SLEEPING WITH YOUR PILLOW ON THE WARM SIDE.

-but he'd definitely be understanding. don't trust his physical expressions.

-you'd tell him and he would say some shit like:

-"you're acoustic?" before you playfully hit him and scold him.

-throughout the whole thing, his smirk never leaves his face. fuck that idiot, sometimes, honestly.

-when you're upset tho, he's really fucking nice. it's a rare case that he ever acts nice but at times like these he knows the limit.

-nahida will teach him more about autism after you told him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

๑ Blade

-eughhh he's a complicated guy

-not like he would show any type of much reaction if you told him he'd be like "okay and?"

-sitting down beside him and telling him.

-he'll listen, sure. he'll be understanding, i guess. but his face remains neutral

-"and how am i supposed to help?" maybe he hurts your feelings js like that sometimes he will apologize with night cuddles

-but overall, he would help you. even tho he'll say he wasn't being all that nice at all but you know that deep down you keep that little bit of happiness in him

-if you're upset and go nonverbal, he will try his best to understand you and help you calm down, taking it seriously. he's really good at it

-he just wants to make sure that you're okay, nothing else matters to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i like this one

it's really good imo

i laughed my ass off while writing wanderer's one lmfaoo i hope you like it @chezsxapcake <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #hsr fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail headcanons #gaming x reader #gaming x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #blade x reader #blade x you #first time writing bladie i like it

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vasito-de-leche · 4 months

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would it be ok to request a fmn x reader type thing that goes into realizing he’s actually fallen for said reader ? (They can either be human or arcanist whichever interests u more!!),asking cause I saw that post u brought up and now im really curious is all I know your Getting a lot of asks for fmn so I apologize ehhf

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "fallen"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 600~ words. angst

all good, nonnie! I don't mind if someone decides to send 10 asks in a row with prompts for the same character lmfao, more power to you lolol

you didn't specify if you wanted headcanons or a fic, so I ended up writing a lil ficlet of the EXACT moment Forget Me Not realizes, which also doubles as the moment he confesses because this man is. a mess.

I also wanted to recapture the vibe from this other FMN fic tofocus on that FMN POV and how hes just. so fucking delusional and how none of the shit he thinks matches the things he does. his body and mind live entirely different realities and i think thats awesome of him

Forget Me Not realizes he's fallen for you the moment he's about to lose you.

Your fist collides against his chest in a weak attempt to push him away - even now, you don't hurt him as much as you should've. In this situation, you have every right to tear him to shreds. To rip him out of your life and throw him far, far away, left to rot.

But you could never do that to him. And that's what hurts him the most.

Because he's done so much worse to you.

This is the last argument you two will ever have, this is the one time he went too far - he's sure of it. Forget Me Not knows this, he's been preparing for this outcome for so long, he knows exactly how it will happen.

At some point, you're going to walk out of that door and never come back. This current expression of yours, the one that makes the knot in his throat tighten and tighten until he wishes he could swallow his own tongue and die on the spot, is the last image he will have of your face. Forget Me Not will think of you each and every night, every single hour of the day, until his memories of you become a poor, deluded simulacrum of what you two could've had or until he drinks himself into oblivion.

He will resent you for leaving and he will hate himself tenfold for allowing this to happen. He will be glad that you're gone, off to greener pastures, and then beg to any God out there for you to come back to him. All of this while he carries on about his day, unyielding and unmoving in his grief. An esteemed member of Manus Vindictae.

This is the day all of his paranoia is justified, but the one thing that throws him off is the suddenness of it all - Forget Me Not, despite constantly dreaming about the day you finally leave him, never expected this to happen so soon. Not on the day his heart finally allows him to admit he's fond of you.

The irony isn't lost on him, he finds it quite hilarious, truth be told.

You yell something he cannot register at him, your open palm pushing him further and further away. Limp and weak, Forget Me Not allows this, his back now resting against the window of his office. Through foggy glasses, he keeps his gaze on the floor hoping that you'll finally run out of things to say - but then, your face comes into view.

It's hard to see you in such a dazed state, and yet Forget Me Not recognizes this mess of blurry colors and shapes as the former love of his life. The sunlight coming from outside surrounds you in an angelical glow, you remain holy even when your fingers dig into his shoulders.

It doesn't hurt, though. He wishes it did. Forget Me Not does not deserve your love, but he will gladly accept your anger and hatred. Why is it so difficult for you to give him that? Why is it so hard for him to let go of you?

"Do you really have nothing to say?! Nothing at all? After all of that?"

Forget Me Not doesn't reply. He can't even remember the words that came out of his mouth to make you react like this. He's forgotten how to talk and just the thought of missing his lines is enough to humiliate him - you play your role so well, and here he is, fumbling the part. To match the crying saint in front of him, Forget Me Not needs to deliver the best performance of his life, a monster worthy of your divinity.

The Snake of The Walden stands tall and proud, looming over you (Forget Me Not stumbles and falls to his knees, unable to steady himself).

It coils itself around your hand, cold scales scratching against your skin (with shaking hands, he clings onto anything he can reach - your hands, your clothes)

Piercing eyes stare down at you, mocking and condescending in their superiority (everything is so blurry, so wet. why is he crying?)

Finally, the Snake speaks. The words that spill from its mouth are vile, rattling the foundation of the earth.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not #i love putting FMN thru the blender. hes the universe's punching bag #every other character gets a nice 'oh im in love' moment but FMN gets. the worst day of his fucking LIFE #if you saw me post this ficlet with the placeholder title. NO YOU DIDNT

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tenebrius-excellium · 10 months

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YOU WATCHED TRIGUN STAMPEDEEEEE??? HOWD U FIND IT WHATRE YOUR THOUGHTS !!

I CONFESS I WAS THE ANON ON YOUR BLOG YOU STUPID (affectionate) FRIEND; I GOT IT FROM YOU!!!

I LOVED IT!!!

Thanks for the accidental recommendation! :P

Ok I know NOTHING about anime, okay? Anything I say was great or not so great might refer to Trigun Stampede specifically, or it might just be an anime thing in general because That's What An Anime Is. I can't tell the difference.

LOVED the intro song (Tombi by Kvi Baba). Constantly listening to it right now. It's hauntingly beautiful yet so easy-going and chill. I looked up the lyrics and they're about being a light in the darkness, I dig that theme!

LOVED Meryl from the start. A level-headed young lady who craves the truth, justice, and knowledge beyond herself because it's the right thing to do. She cares so much. She doesn't steal any spotlight by interfering or by being dramatic. She simply observes, listens to instructions that will save her life, and draws her own conclusions. I'm glad we got to experience the plot through her perspective first! A "journalist investigating a story" may seem like such a dumb start - could be Hallmark. But in this Space Western setting, it's perfect.

VASH MY BELOVED. I hated his intro because it made him seem so dumb and silly. There's a difference between making a character seem naive so that he gets underestimated (bringing in the - surprise! - big guns later), and making him outright ooc to create a false first impression. Idk I knew that his FIRST scene where he needed a bullet was not how his character would remain.

HIS CHARACTER DESIGN IS SO COOOOL!!! Idk from the outfit down to his martial arts skills matched with radical forgiveness and pacifism - DUDE. He's very complex. Idk yeah he lets himself get shot in total surrender but there is the part where one bullet won't immediately kill him and he knows it. There's also the part where Wolfwood challenges him on his beliefs, saying that for all his "peace and love on planet earth" talk he sure does not clean up after the messes he creates. The thing is - it's not so much about taking responsibility for the bounty on his head or something, but rather for the fact that his behavior evokes confused, angry and frightened reactions because it comes unexpected to a human society that is drilled on survival. As much as he CHOOSES not to use violence time and time again, I think he needs to cultivate some awareness that this is unusual behavior and that it triggers people to do crazy things (based on insecurity) around him. On the positive side, he confronts each and everyone with their personal tolerance for violence and tests their hearts that way. Beautiful.

The team is so well balanced! Vash, Wolf, Meryl, and Roberto - Dream Team!

The actions scenes take my breath away. They are so so so so good. I am noticing the attention to detail and the accuracy to skill that everyone is describing. I am also highly enjoying the ingenuity of new moves and awesome use of weapons, physical strength and surroundings. I'm sorry, I can't explain the brilliance of these moves well - but you already know what I mean.

I didn't quite get the in-depth explanation of the conflict I think??? Like, I'm still not quite sure what a Plant is, why Vash and Nai are more intelligent than the rest of them, why they were in space to begin with and what exactly Knives was trying to achieve by traveling to a higher dimension? I really didn't get the angel theme and why Vash suddenly developed a wing and became dark (I like his darker look tho). I also don't quite understand Nai as a character. To ensure the survival of Plant seems like an understandable cause for his actions, but why be so cruel and uncaring about it? It doesn't explain his maniac barbarity. Explanations are more than welcome!

What is your obsession with Livio about?? I mean I know, he was epic in that one scene he appeared in, and his bond with Wolfwood was genuine and deep. But he literally took himself out like a light, so... where's all that additional Livio content coming from? It's also really sad. Like... he never even gave himself one minute after waking up. That was a bit morbid.

Oh my gosh Vashmeryl is the og canon? I'm happy there wasn't any forced romance between anyone in this season. Only platonic connections for once. Amazing. Whatever Vash and Meryl end up as, I'll support both.

If there comes a Season 2, I will watch it!!! I don't know how far I'll take Trigun Stampede in fandom, but believe me, watching this has positively altered me forever. It's so FRESH.

Again, thank you for the unintentional recommendation!

Cheers

Reddie

#trigun stampede #wherethekiteflies #ask #asks #spoon-cca #livio laughio lovio #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #nai #millions knives

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domesticangel · 23 days

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SPRINTING to your ask box to ask if we can know anything about fjóla bc that piece you just posted whips ass!!!! your characters are so epic i want to know everything about them okay bye <3

screaming and crying you’re so sweet thank you 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 okay lemme try to tell u a bit about her but fair warning every time I talk about my ocs I feel like I’m metaphorically putting on rollerblades and flailing and falling and exploding 👍🏻

(also after I’ve typed all this out I’m realizing I should put a trigger warning for domestic abuse and vague implied infanticide)

so fjóla is a leopard seal selkie and lilija’s mother (whom she looks nothing alike, babygirl is the spitting image of her spotted seal father) who is deceased within the like, “current” timeline my characters are set. she was born into a group of selkies that lived their lives mostly as seals as opposed to integrating into society as most selkies in this universe do; the status quo is more or less for selkies to live near or on water and spend time as both seals and humans, but more traditional ones like fjóla and her pack will remain seals for the vast majority of their lives, only occasionally partaking in humanoid environments.

however, she did unfortunately end up living most selkies’ nightmare; her coat was taken and she was trapped in a house with a man she didn’t love and a child she was forced to bear, the main twist being that her “husband” (they never officially married but it’s an easier shorthand), steingrímur, was actually a selkie as well. to make a long story short because this ain’t about him, him and his family became traitors to their local community by helping a gang of dangerous poachers hunt the other selkies for their coats in exchange for immunity. the deal began with steingrímur’s grandfather, and they operated this way in secrecy up until steingrímur was a young adult. by this time, his father and his grandfather had become much more callous about the terrible things they were doing, and began developing a sort of self-hatred fueled “code,” beginning to believe that selkies were a weak, defenseless species that were only ever known for being taken and owned by stronger predators, so it was their responsibility to “rise above” the rest of them and train themselves up as superior superpredators. steingrímur was groomed from the ground up with this mindset, and his “initiation” as a hunter was to capture a particularly fierce leopard seal with a beautiful, pure white coat, which was ofc fjóla. his capture of her coincided with the rest of their local community finding out what exactly their family business entailed, and they had were deemed traitors and had to flee. steingrímur absconded with fjóla and fled while his father and grandfather were captured and essentially community-executed a la ken mcelroy lol.

anyway, all that to say—she was a miserable woman. her coat was taken and sold for a hefty price (its color was pure and rare, on top of the selkie coat black market paying big money for such an illicit good, as in this universe, a selkie’s coat can really only be obtained ethically by being inherited, willingly handed over, etc), she was forced to move somewhere where she knew nothing and nobody, and she had to learn to live life as a human as she had no other option. and she had to do all of it with a very sick, abusive man who held beliefs diametrically opposed to the ones she was raised with—she wanted to live life as a free animal in the open ocean, while her “husband” looked down on her for not getting with the times and abandoning instincts that don’t serve her, and as he sees it, got her captured. he essentially kept her as a trophy. as a cook. and as the vessel that would bear his protege.

she was not cruel in the slightest but she had trouble with warmth and compassion in a conventional sense. her only motherly instincts were very objective; feed the baby, change the baby, put the baby to bed. try not to smother the baby as you stare down at her in her crib, thinking it the only way to guarantee she escapes the man you never could. both her nails and her long, jagged, sharp teeth were kept clipped after she gave steingrímur one too many scars, and she was eventually further sedated with medication and alcoholism. as her daughter grew older, fjóla’s love language primarily became warnings and harbingers of doom; she warned lilija not to be coveted, captured, or desired for her beauty as so many of their species are. she taught her to look over her shoulder at every turn, trust no one, and assume the worst. you don’t want to be a mother or a wife. look at what it’s done to me. promise me you’ll never let anyone close enough to make that happen. promise me that you’ll remember nothing is more important than your freedom. promise me you’ll stop looking more and more like your father every day.

she sometimes waded out into the ocean, forgetting to shed her clothes first, and pretended for seconds at a time that if she wanted to, she could pull her coat over her shoulders and swim away.

anyway. fjóla is very much a character I created to explore motherhood, womanhood, isolation, flattening someone into an image or a memory or a ghost rather than a real person, inherited fear and rage and repression between mother and daughter…she was of course abused and unwell, but the things she told and taught lilija in her formative years played a huge part in lilija’s paranoia regarding interpersonal relationships and how difficult it is for her to form them. fjóla ended up being less a person and more a symbol in everyone’s eyes; a symbol of accomplishment and dominance to steingrímur, and a symbol of every fear and every nightmare any seal woman has ever had to her daughter.

#fjóla #txt

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like-rain-or-confetti · 1 year

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(Hey so I'm definitely not new here but I changed my name so I just wanted to let u know lmao)

Hey dork squad my favorite trio (*´∇`)ﾉ

How's your week been?

My week has been hectic, I swear. Since Monday was presidents Day in America we didn't have school, when we went back the next day we had a school shooting .... At my high school and I was present. Thankfully it was a hoax but so many kids/teachers have had theories about it, the one thing that stuck with me was the panic I felt but I was proud of my self that I was able to stay calm and sorta take action and help comfort my friends. On Wednesday we had a snow day bc my state is bipolar af, school was normal today but it snowed as I was walking home it was annoying it kept wetting my glasses :/. Idk what's going to happen tomorrow but I'm ready for it!

Anyways here's a cute little cat meme!

Jonathan would know all about that.

I beg your pardon?

You pulled a gun out on your students.

Yes...and?

Did you pull the trigger, Mr Crane? ♠️

Why would you ask him a thing like that!?

I don't know! It seemed the next thing to ask!♠️

What would you know of fluidity and order- even in social norms!?

The one on the left is looking at me rather peculiarly...♠️

...Exactly my point. Now what are you blabbering on about?

The cat me...me? Me me? It isn't me- is it? Or is it me? Am I the Cheshire cat? What a funny little trick! ♠️

That's not what the conclusion is, Jervis and it is a meme. They're mindsucking, brain bleeding mirages of humour for the young and dumb.

In a world of constant change, pain and sorrow. All that remains is finding comfort in relating to one another. Finding comfort in the pain we had no idea everyone else feels. A world full of expectations, we forget the age old lesson that we never are truly alone. So much so, its argued strongly that for every thought a human has ever had atleast another ten people in the world has had the same thought. Oh, sorry Mr Nygma, I know that must threaten a paradigm shift of sorts.

Crane, I'm going to say this is delicately as I can. Fuck off. Stop smirking at me too.

Language! ♠️

Yes, Edward. Language.

You're antagonising.♠️

Yes, I am. Do you intend to stop me, Jervis?

...Mr Crane, I have no intention of diverting your path for I value my days. ♠️

That's what I thought.

Before I lose any more brain cells to you two- can we get back to the matter at hand?

Ah yes, now is the time to offer a socially acceptable response to show that we are capable of empathy. Therefore...we are so glad to know that you are alright. Such a vile thing to joke of. For the record, I did nothing for humour and I brought it for educational purposes. A prop for class.

But...it is horrible! What kind of joke is that!? ♠️

Ask the Joker.

I'd rather not. ♠️

I see you mentioned controlling your fear...perhaps you'd like to discuss this further?

Don't make me sit through this.

I think the one of the left is trying to tell me something...♠️

DISCLAIMER: I know my rules say that my content doesn't represent my true feelings but had to put this out there to make sure it was clear. I'm so glad this was a hoax. I hope you know that whilst the characters are insensitive- I am horrified you had to experience such a terrible thing and hope you're okay!

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miiserableee · 2 years

Text

( POLAR MYSTIQUE ) ▸ DOS : ! ( uno ) / ( tres )

scaramouche × fem!reader ! ( summary ) a point of view from other characters which coincidentally is a close friend of scara , where they all state why , just why , you both still remain still within the state of friends with extended definition of being something not yet official but is patently there , ( mentions ) of reader having an older brother , being perfect , smart athletic u know the drill , scara being ooc ! annoyed scara ! reader also have dead parents ! drunk reader ! reader w/ abandonment issues ! reader kind of a bro-con ! reader is weak to alcohol ! reader being somewhat , moderately socially approachable ! this is uh , kind of in a 2nd person viewpoint of kazuha ! ( 5.2k words ) modern!au!

𖥼 , A DIFFERENT FLOWER , BLOOMED IN HIM !

HE WALKS . with a tall ginger at side , atleast a ruler's length away . namely called childe . blabbering about how he loved their just a few minutes ago lesson with prof. zhongli . the considerably shorter ; scaramouche couldn't even bother give a nod or a brief reply . simply seeming to not want the ginger's company but couldn't be bothered to try and escape from it either . he tweaked with his phone , childe has noticed him typing something before , and him placing it back on his pocket , then swishing his swinging bag just hanging by one shoulder , and checking it again . he kept on checking and checking until they were from their last room , out here in their campus' open fields .

childe had quite the clear idea of just who exactly he texted and has yet to reply . couldn't be anyone other than the only being he ever mentions with slight bit change with his usual mundane expression . he may not gush about it so often with his words but he does almost always sound like your name was the only one that can ever leave his lips more times than ten in a day .

he'd never tell anyone about such fixation but also would never deny any sort of assumption . childe has only been with this guy for three years now , since the start of their college life , but man was that enough for him to notice the subtle differences of how he treats you and how he deals with others .

anyone on same standing as childe in scaramouche's life would wonder , just how you two are still not dating . it didn't seem like scaramouche didn't have the guts to confess , and never did it seem like you'd ever reject him . so whatever was the reason that kept you both from leveling up from the close as hell yet nothing more than childhood friends basis .

just as he thinks of you , you came right of rear view , coincidentally walking to them , a few girls with red tints on their cheeks , visible enough for childe ; meters away to see . what got them blushing so furiously ? you didn't seem to be passing on hitting on them either with that calm and tranquil label on your face sticking with persistent trace . they soon left though , giggling and almost audible small speech bubbles with kya kya around them , grouped with pecks of pink small giddy flowers .

you were walking the same route close to where the two of them were headed , and just as suspected , scaramouche already got eyes at you ; still aloof and unaware , hand at your gray tote bag , snug against the silk of your sleeveless , buttoned black top , its collar hiding that one pendant necklace you got from , oh why don't you readers guess .

as soon as you raise your sights away from the smooth of the ground floors is when you noticed them two , though it'd be more plausible to say that you only noticed scaramouche .

"Scara ? Scara !" those fog in your eyes cleared with his figure on sight . immediately speeding up your walking into pacing as you raise a hand as if to wave at him . he only waits . "Nice seeing you here . Oh , hi Childe ?" he swore you've forgotten his name and is unsure as you spoke of it but he's keeping that hypothesis to himself .

"Hi Y/n , done with classes ?" he giddy up at you with a small grin and a friendly wave to return your not meant for him one . regardless , you acknowledge his presence , "Yeah , I got a long vacant next so I was planning on killing some time ."

"Where ? At that arcade down a few rides away again ? You know , I can take you on a better place to kill some time !" indirectly insulting your place of comfort and original homes of huge ass stuff toys , now rested on the blankets of your bed , you , already immune to it , just snark up a reply . "Yeah ? Like a week-trip in France ?"

"Of course ! Whenever you're free ."

"Sweet—"

"Y/n ."

"Mhm ?"

it's simply astonishing how you didn't at all react stiff with the cold of his voice that interrupted your conversation—maybe that's the benefit of having been close to him since of young age . "We can live in Paris for 10 years if that's what you so like ."

"Scara , I'm still poor <33 ." you jokingly slump your shoulders and he scoffs , "Obviously ." and you just look at him with a stop agreeing look . he had already pulled you atleast five feet away from childe and barely a feet away from him . said tall ginger had nothing to say both in mind and aloud but WHAT ??? TOGETHER ?? LIVE IN PARIS ???? FOR 10 YEARS ??? IS THAT WHAT CHILDHOOD FRIENDS DO NOWADAYS ???? he internally regrets not keeping any of his childhood friends as close as scaramouche and you kept each other for many years end .

"Why weren't you answering my messages ?" he so complains , pinching up at your side as you immediately release an ouch and caught his wrist , teary eyed a bit as you ask back , "You sent messages ?" damn , now there you just dug your grave deeper . he pinches noticeably harder as your face flinched and the bit of you being teary eyed ? shattered .

"I was scolded during class cause it rang and wouldn't at all stop . Nii-chan was spamming so I had to mute it . I didn't get to check since right after getting out the halls , those girls asking about you swarmed at me again ." he seemed unbelieving at first before he just pinches more one last time and you held unto his wrist much tighter . "Ow ow , I'll check it , I'll check it , alright ?"

so you did , fiddling with your tote and fishing out your phone to see that he did send a message . "You wanna eat lunch together ?" he pinches harder . "OW OW—Okay okay !"

and just as he thought you have forgotten him , it seems as though you still haven't . "Childe ? Wanna eat with us ? You haven't eaten yet , right ? I'll call Kazuha over , too ."

there it was . it wasn't uncommon . how you held hands out for people that needs something to hold unto . you were that one girl snug at the friend group but keeps eyes out for the ones being left behind . you were that one that asks everyone for their orders at restaurants before you say yours . you were the one that listens to everyone and let them drag you wherever and whenever they could . you were naive .

scaramouche , how exactly did you get him to open up to you ? with how easy you were ? how much of a light baggage you are to carry ? oh , could it be that it's simply easy to drag you around ?

"Childe ?"

no . it's none of those . it's because , you so fit him .

"Yeah , I'll go ." he says with a cheeky grin which scaramouche brushes off with a closed glare as he more puts focus on your hold on his wrist . he pinches again . "Stooooop that ." you almost have the tear pouring but he just smirks , soon putting aside his clamped fingers and just pressing his palm against what part he had been inflicting stings at .

childe watched it happen . those silent antics of odd affection . they weren't often noticed by others as when said others do contort a few of his moments , they only ever get caught up in the pretty of his snow skin and almost amethyst-like eyes . childe sighs , walking ahead as you follow , scaramouche letting go but you ended up snatching at his shirt's hem and pulling him in again to show him the spam of a mess your brother had supposedly done on your chatbox . laughing and being giddy lightly as scaramouche just stared and reads every detail-quite the look resembling that of glare present as he venture eyes at what you had him see . he puts those emotions aside as you got in the canteen .

"Kazuha !!" you bemused at the presence of the newcomer , said newcomer just smiles and nod , quite expected of his quite the calm nature . completely why others are beyond baffled as to why and just how he ended up being one of the closest to scaramouche . well , this others , really is just childe and a few people , like their some seniors like venti and rosaria , juniors like chongyun and xingqui . to others that could be deemed as ; almost everyone , scaramouche is the silent , cold type but knows how to smile and throw thorny bouquet of words , quiet poetic , but , just ; no .

"When can I have a girlfriend myself , comrade ?"

"When you stop using comrade as a means to refer to people , perhaps ."childe pouts at the immediate response , kazuha just providing another teeth aching smile as he takes bites of his own meal . "How was classes , Y/n ?" you and kazuha weren't really of same major but a few of his classes , you also attend ; you really find the fun in his taken word-y lectures .

"It was fun ." your smile is so spent back when it's to be shown to others , kazuha who never really minded just nods .

"Did you take a class same as Kazuha again ?" scaramouche asks as you just turn at him as you take in whatever your chopstick could pick up at your tray . "Kinda , he took that class last sem ."

scaramouche looked the least bit displeased before he just doesn't reply and continue to focus on his thing . childe would judge that as him being jealous , as his major is more on businesses and all that , you couldn't really relate . but maybe scaramouche wasn't that jealous type of a person ? since you were always crowded by people the time childe and kazuha had come to witness you two's foolish unofficially announced chasing of each other-maybe he liked it when others see just how great you are ?

"You don't have classes anymore ?" kazuha asks scaramouche whom was just about to follow you ; already a few meters ahead . "Hm , we'll be going for a drive down the riverside ."

a drive down the riverside . that often meant that you would be busy the next few days so he's off to take you somewhere to have some quality time together or he's the one who's gonna be busy . "Okay , Childe and I will go , get home safe ."

childe just stands there behind kazuha , it was past the hour of sunsets and the orange and reds , yellows and grays were turning more into blacks and violets .

"How are they not dating yet ?" childe mumbles out as he walked with kazuha to where their cars would be . "He says he doesn't feel like it's yet time for him to confess ." though , said scaramouche have never really said that aloud , it's more so the message kazuha gets from those few plucked-luck situations when he does accidentally ask and receive a flare glare instead .

"Haven't they been at it for quite the time now ? Even before college ." to be exact , when childe first started associating himself with scaramouche and witnessed one of those moments said man would have with you , the initial question that popped off of him , for scaramouche to answer , was ; is she your girlfriend ? its almost as if he was speaking for everyone when he asked that . which was legit as almost everyone either leaned or stopped whatever they were doing just to listen in the table said him and scaramouche sat in , be it boy or girl , the popular ones or the quiet ones—everyone wanted in .

everyone wanted , maybe even needed to know . as you two were a pair so secretive yet public . no one could bash you for it when individually everyone loved you both . scaramouche , the smart , and moderately social guy that keeps his boundaries known even with his flowers-covered words of steeled knives—you , whom is never problematic and completely neutral , the silent type with over brimming charisma . you who'd never show any emotion more than the bare minimum , unless when he comes of view , and him who never really does anything for anyone unless you come into being the one in need .

it's so obvious . so so obvious .

and kazuha agrees .

he didn't at all when he first met you . he didn't even think you were all that of a big deal , just a regular friend of scaramouche with a bit of different tang and whiff along your airs , but never really anymore than that . you were introduced as the one who took his side as being scaramouche's personal really close friend , as he had to leave for canada . he did come back to study college and ended up having to meet you as you were often called on by scaramouche or you were the one nearing him . he brushed off the almost unnoticeable but still there selective affectionate antics his friend displayed for you as something not worth his time to think about as scaramouche couldn't possibly be meaning to do all that intentionally—

who would have thought that the seven years he's gone was enough for flowers to bloom in some man like scaramouche ?

time and time again , he'd sometimes freeze when labeled witness of times scaramouche would act to you like how a lover would and you'd do the same . even if the said act could be seen as mediocre and especially affection-lacking , it was still enough for kazuha's smile to stiffen and thought process crumble . he felt foolish to think that even scaramouche wouldn't change or find the one on the course of seven years .

he was in denial , thinking at one side that maybe you weren't all that special , to scaramouche , even when clearly , you are . on the other side , he was near believing and understanding scaramouche's unsaid feelings even if he'd always had a concrete belief that said pal of his would never have a speck of romantic whatnot to spare .

who knew that all he needed was one scenario for said concrete belief that have already shattered to pieces , get blitz to dust there and then ?

"You're with who ? That alcohol loving bastard and his tattooed companion ? Who else ? Not even with that Lumi-girl you always mention ? Wouldn't your brother be worried ?"

kazuha remembers well how scaramouche came back the table with a restless air around him . both their parents knew each other having been acquainted during their days of college and early endeavors to before all the well known good success . there was then a big dinner with said two families , catching up and listening in on stories that could be tips or just completely entertaining were being shared and discussed but all kazuha did was drink his alcoholic drink silently .

when it was time to head home , as him and scaramouche lived at different dorms for easy transport and convenient privacy for college , they were advised to head home together . and as kazuha is yet to be bought his own ferrari or mercedes because uni was in the way , he had to hit up a ride with scaramouche . which the man just didn't care about at all as he reaches for his keys , not minding if said kazuha were to follow or not .

the ride was silent as both were tired . having been questioned multiple things for both being either heir or helpers of the heirs , they were quite up for the roller coaster like questions , a gut shrieking ride . they were used to it , but it still sucks at their HP no matter the number of times it happens .

it's only ever broken , said still in the scented air of the car , when scaramouche's phone rang . he eyed it where it was , laying neatly on the seat beside him . kazuha was on the backseat , he doesn't like seating himself beside the driver of any car he is to ride on . scaramouche didn't bother doing anything like taking his airpods , maybe because he was driving . just answered and put it on speaker . "Y/n ?"

"Ah hello ? Sir , uh , Scara-mama's-boi ? Lol , what a name . Anyways , this isn't Y/n~ ! We didn't know she could get drunk this easily , sorry . Uh , mind picking her up ? If you're busy , my boyfriend Xiao here can do it . Say hello Xiao !"

"If he's busy just tell him to send us her address ."

the so called venti laughs heartily at this xiao's way of saying hello , before continuing , "This is Venti by the waaaaaaay !!"

scaramouche squinted eyes at this , catching glances at his phone . the two seniors are well known around the uni . the uni is big and filled of people from other countries and places . xiao and venti are well known to be the first ones to be as popular as scaramouche and you now . their looks and attitudes , talents being a means of their fame . scaramouche never really even bothered with their existence but they approached you , well , venti did . since you're always with scaramouche , it came to be a fact that he grew a bit acquainted to them as well . they may have known that there was simply no way he'd answer any call if it wasn't from you . scaramouche exhales , almost sounding irritated , the cause of the hint of irritation ; unsure was kazuha ."Which bar are you at ?"

"Oh ? You're not busy ? Nice ! We're at the recently opened one here in uhhh . Near the plaza ? Wait let me send ."

after a while , of exchanging locations , scaramouche turned his wheels to where he knew said location would be . "I'll drop you off later , Kazuha . Or you can just get down here and call up a cab . I'll pick up Y/n ." kazuha wasn't in that much of a hurry , and he did need to let loose after the straining persistence of appointed imagery , he's been acting on since earlier . "I'll accompany you . I haven't seen Y/n in a while too ."

"Suit yourself ."

the bar was grand . it was large and spacious , loud and tenacious . kazuha and scaramouche were only able to enter after having bribed the bouncers a hefty load of under-given money . not really under when the annoyed scaramouche just slapped the cash right at the big men's face . annoyance seemingly increasing at the loud of the room , but that sort of reaction wasn't all that visible anymore when the two of them walked to the vip section where their senior said they were .

you weren't really breaking havoc or dancing all giddy with beats disregarded and limbs swayed all ragged . you were just sitting there at the bar stool , sipping at a huge beer glass mug , rather quickly too . almost as if the burning it does as it travels down your throat is nothing at all . you drank it like water . kazuha thought , oh , what a calm drunk she is . the only actual indication of you not being sober were the light hiccupping, deep strikes of red on your cheeks and the way your eyes rested at the shelves of other alcoholic beverages . completely lost and aloof much like usual .

until scaramouche started speed-walking and turning you with a hand at your shoulder , smiling eerily at the tattooed senior who was attained to mandatory caressing of your back . said senior flit away his hand in motion the moment he notices scaramouche under the pink and violet streams of light from the attached things above . as for you , when you turned at him , it wasn't even a second after , yet somehow , tears just started erupting . your e/c eyes shining , your hiccupping reducing to a mantra of his name . scara , scara , scara .

you were crying and he just looked , one eye twitching and an irked expression to be of seen as he stealthily moves the glass which was full when they came in and was already half way done with just your recent last sip ; away . latching at his waist were your arms . you hugged him tight as you sobbed his name out for a reason kazuha just couldn't begin to guess out .

he's seen you smile , laugh , annoyed , upset and many more before but that never meant he had seen you cry at all . with how you're usually mistaken to be void of any sort of humane and not-practiced emotions and reactions , it had his eyes widening at the sight of you , practically on the edge of actual wailing .

"Weird, right ? I never thought I'd ever see her cry at all !" venti tuned out with a laughter to finish it off as he leans on kazuha's shoulder , sipping more alcohol , a different kind than what got you like that and probably much stronger on the alcohol-meters too . "Is she okay ?"

"We don't know too , she just started crying and mumbling about her brother and things . Would then stay still like what you saw earlier , almost fell asleep too ."

you were a lightweight . the kind that allows alcohol right through their veins within three above-average sips yet still had guts of steel to chug in more than three above-average full-filled cups .

there wasn't anymore said and replied but a nod as scaramouche was already prancing out with wobbling you , still wiping at your tears . most have already gone back to your lips along with couple of snots and scaramouche just wiped them off with a disgusted look and a handkerchief which you were now using to rid of other more fluids coming out .

"You aren't even 20 yet and there you were , drinking . Are you stupid ?" scaramouche comments as he gets his keys , his words were harsh but kazuha found that normal , as he gently laid out hands on your head and wrist when you were heading to sit with him in the backseat . all the more ready to lay your head in his lap momentarily and nap . still sniffing . scaramouche immediately yanks you back to him though when you were just about to fall in the car , to be caught by kazuha . "You're sitting on the front . Don't bother Kazuha ."

"But I wanna lay down ." you said that between light attempts of pushing back dripping snot , trying to escape your nostrils . scaramouche glares at you and proceeded to ignore you as he gently guided you to where he wants you to be . surprisingly , you just stirred a last ; also not minded by him ; look of pity before you did as told .

"The house suddenly feels so lonely , Scaramoochie ." kazuha barely contained his snort at the nickname . you three were already on way to where you live , which scaramouche knows all too well that he didn't even need no gps / navi . "Nii-chan doesn't come home every night anymore . We don't get to watch movies anymore . I'm always alone at home . I don't wanna go home . Drop me off here ." you had your head leaned against the car's window and your arms bent at your covered legs , much to scaramouche's relief . you reeked of beer , good thing kazuha was used to it , having an aunt with such great drinking habits .

"We're stuck in traffic , in front of motels , Y/n . Shut it ."

you sniff, kazuha presumes you've started crying once again . "It's cold . I'm so lonely . He's so busy . Uni isn't 24/7 and my shifts at the cafe is so , once in a blue moon . I don't wanna go home , Scarabooobs . Even the alcohol didn't help me forget shit . Just had me crying even more . I should be happy for him ." your sentences were so random yet it pieces up a certain context for kazuha . scaramouche just scoffing at you as he turns the curb . "Your brother is finally getting married and this is how you act . How stupid ." you nod , tears pooling even more despite your barely-even-there disagreement .

"He's finally living his life and here I am . Stop reminding me , I hate you, Scaracootie." he rolls his eyes again with a small grin at face this time . kazuha was so near voicing out why he still hasn't tried choking you to death with all the weird twisting of his name . "Just start living your life too . Your world should start a stop with this idiotic revolving around your brother and only him , seriously ."

"You say that as if you don't know how he's the only one I've ever had around ." kazuha finds you more pitiful than idiotic . having no parents during the stages of growing . he's never actually known that you thought that way until this day . alcohol may really be a strong truth serum . he kept his eyes closed and leaned against the seat to fake being asleep , not as though him hearing any of these is weird since you have been friends with him for a while and had your own synopsis of your life with what little details you let slip during sharing of your stories and such .

"Find another to take his place of improtance then ."

"Like , replace him ? My perfect brother ?" you retort all too quickly and he shrugs , "Figure it out ." you blink aside again . "I already have someone as important as Big bro around . But he sucks actual tamarind and bitter gourmet all days he lived and lives . Big bro would be offended if I were to replace his place in my heart with said someone ."

"You know . . . what I . . . mean . . . ?"

the obnoxious amounts of periods actually is proof of how long the distance your words in that sentence made with all the yawning and drowsiness you kept on signaling . right after saying that , you were already fast asleep , snoring smallish even . as much as kazuha found that totally too clichè of a thing to actually happen along his line of sight from almost fully-closed eyes , it happened anyway .

hm , yawning and sleepiness may really be contagious , the moment you went to sleep with such notions and motions , kazuha whom has been keeping his eyes close since earlier felt a sensation akin to that of pulling , his senses dulling but before he could resign off of consciousness , he hears scaramouche say first , with a voice low and a grin a bit snarky , a reply to your dozing message ,

"I don't , stupid ."

kazuha awoke to the sound of you mumbling things as scara seem to have already parked near your home and is now casting vibrations on your shoulder to get you awake . you simply groan and try to be one with the car door and scaramouche exasperated out a sigh and walked out his side of the car door and walked out to circle round and get to you , opening up the door and pulling you out . "Wake up or you're sleeping in the car ."

you hated the smell of cars . kazuha watched as you seemingly sobered a bit to stand up and walk wobbly beside him . mouthing more of your slurred out jokes of his name and his bitter interior . a bit of seldom sobbing commercials are your constant complains of your brother's marriage . all falling on deaf ears as scaramouche just guides you to your home .

you both disappear of the staircase of that apartment complex and kazuha patiently waits in tha car . the fact that he saw you crying being under the influence of alcohol wasn't what amused him most . it was the other side of the amusement coin that scaramouche dealt with it all .

when said pal came back from your home and was grumbling about how much trouble you drunkenly caused , kazuha asked with not much in mind but the will to confirm his assumptions . "Do you like Y/n ?" if scaramouche were to answer properly then he'd probably understand why he was all mad the time he skipped from last name basis phase and went ahead to calling you by your first name .

but said man only ever contradicts his earlier actions by mouthing such unreasonable sentence , "As if , I hate her guts ."

right , tell yourself that . kazuha somehow snaps back , snapping only being said by him in his mind but he'd rather not exert that much effort anymore , he just slept the whole drive home .

things didn't change at all ever since , maybe the fact that you and kazuha somehow got closer after that incident was one of the very few changes . regarding you and scaramouche's relationship though , you two stayed stagnant along the waters . still somehow not moving at all , not forward or backwards , just frozen stiff along such unsure lines , as if you two feared the ripples , as if they weren't bound to come due some time .

"What the fuck , Kazuha !! Focus !!" childe almost scream into his mic and into kazuha's ears , and that somehow got kazuha back from his reminiscing . he knew from the tone that childe was in no way mad , the one reason why he ever so casually just throw at him , a "Oh , right , yeah ."

"YOU DROPPPpPED iTTTT !!" referring to the gun , childe screech in a means kazuha has yet to figure out . he tries to find peace in this chaotic set up , "Can you , like zip it for a minute—" only to admit defeat with a stubborn , irritatingly loud , "AAAAAAAA KAZUHA WE GON' DIE !!!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP CHILDE ! YOU'RE STILL GONNA HAVE TO PAY FOR THAT ." scaramouche shouts , kazuha falls into a case of laughter as soon as childe erupts one . finally having a kind of realization to why childe was being even more annoying than usual . kazuha though , felt a bit bad for laughing when their friend was fuming at the other line at how they were losing their winning streak . he didn't particularly care , as much as victory prove to be sweet , losing isn't in any means that bitter for him .

it wasn't every night that they have a game night , its actually a very rare occurrence . it's most of the time just him and childe , some friends of childe , or maybe some friend of his . scaramouche rarely joins in . it's quite nice to hear his knife-birthed words from time to time , as weird as that sounds . today was one of those days where you somehow get into a fight with scaramouche . that's also a rare occurrence .

the two didn't know what the reason for the fighting was but they knew it happened even if they didn't see it , since scaramouche just suddenly hits them up with a dorks , lets play tonight . childe assumes and murmurs that it must have something to do with whatever occurred yesterday when you two walked by the riverside .

though none of two would really pry .

that went on for a while , them shouting at each other over the mic as they play , in an attempt to drift the night away , kazuha sounding the most sane out of them three , the other sounds high while one sounds like all his capability to stay calm have gone down the drain of impossibility-s .

it all came to a pause when scaramouche's phone rang and he answered . it also wasn't that usual for scaramouche to answer a call during a game , so they bet they knew who called . it was silence before the beeping faded and a voice came along hoarse and obviously tired , a man's too .

"Hey , uh , Scaramouche . Yeah it's , hm , us again ."

maybe this repeat can lead to a different end .

SCARA-LiNE ! / WORK NAVi ! next chap : YOU & XIAO !

#scaramouchexfem!reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouchexreader #scaramouche #x fem!reader #x female reader #genshin x reader #kazuha #childe #venti #xiao #polarmystique!scaraseries!

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