#how some may invision things slightly differently | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stllmnstr · 1 month ago

Text

starlight

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: soulmates au, university au

word count: 13.4k

warnings: swearing, angst (but a happy ending because I’m not a monster), soulmate lore, copious amounts of pining and yearning and sighing

soundtrack: crying over you - honne, beka / a world alone - lorde / this is me trying / invisible string / daylight - taylor swift / spring day - bts / so far away - agust d, suran

note: this was another find in my old drafts that I spent a couple of days editing/rewriting. I have very much been in a jungwon mood these days, and it was fun to venture into some more angsty stuff that I haven't written in a while. happy reading! ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

There’s a word for it. Something that’s whispered behind closed doors, shunned like a bad omen you can’t quite shake.

Glitch. A cruel twist of fate. A failed soulmate match.

Something you’ve been marked as since the countdown on your wrist ticked to 00:00 two long years ago and left you lonelier than ever. Something you’ve been fighting since destiny carved itself into your skin with a dull, lifeless shade of gray.

But fate is a funny thing. And love, as you’ve learned, is often found in the most unexpected places.

or,

fate, with all of its cruel, incandescent scheming, leads straight to yang jungwon.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The overhead fluorescents in this particular lecture hall always manage to leave you with a pounding headache that even a strong dose of Advil can never quite seem to mitigate.

“And with time, these bonds only strengthen. Until a point is reached after which both parties would experience immense pain were they to be physically separated, willingly or not.”

Well, it’s either the lightbulbs or your professor’s droning.

Today, his words are slightly muted where they reach your ears, as if you’re underwater. Drowning in a topic that’s been beaten to death a million times over.

Still, this is information you should be taking in. Or, at the very least, jotting down notes of, since it’s all but guaranteed to appear on your final exam. But no matter how much you will yourself to focus, you can’t get your mind to cooperate.

After all, it’s bad enough that you’re forced to be here in the first place.

Sociology 112: Intro to Soulmate Theory. An absolute joke of a class.

The very foundation your society is built around. A nagging reminder of the grayscale deficiency that stains the skin of your left inner wrist.

Subconsciously, you tug the left sleeve of your shirt down a little further. There’s no need, not really. You made sure that your mark was fully covered before you left your dorm room this morning. Just like every morning.

But long standing habits are rarely broken, and the last thing you need now is another reminder of what makes you different. What makes you wrong.

At the front of the lecture hall, your professor pushes forward in that same, monotonous stupor. He’s either unaware or unconcerned by the fact that some of his students may be affected by his lecture on more than just a purely academic level.

Staring straight ahead, you distract yourself by scanning your professor, eyes taking in his appearance. At the very least, it will make it look as if you’re paying attention to what he’s saying.

With the signature graying hair most men in their mid-fifties carry, a pair of rather plain, slightly round eyeglasses, and neutral button-down appropriate for most professional settings, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about your professor.

Like most people, he gets up in the morning, selects a plain shirt from his modestly sized closet. He enjoys a cup or two of black coffee before embarking on his morning commute to campus, leaving ten minutes earlier than strictly necessary, because he’s convinced it helps him avoid the worst of the morning traffic.

His life is one of normalcy, you imagine. Nothing that most people would find especially enviable or extraordinary.

But when he reaches up to point out an example on the lecture slide, the left sleeve of that beige button down lifts, just slightly.

You only catch a glimpse, a tiny fraction of a look, but you see it all the same. The glossy, shiny, red 00:00 inked into his skin.

You resist the urge to scratch your wrist. He clicks forward to the next slide. Life goes on.

“As per the syllabus, you’ll be completing projects with an assigned parter on a topic of your choice. Although I encourage you to consult a variety of resources and include several points of view in your project, the only firm guideline is that your topic relates to soulmate theory.”

Several points of view. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, right. In your experience, any arguments against the traditional soulmate model are scoffed at. Met with nothing but anger and ridicule.

Although it makes for a miserable life, it does make for a simplistic assignment. Assigned partners are usually the bane of your existence, but no matter how incompetent this one is, you’re sure it will be easy enough to meet up once or twice in the university library and regurgitate common sentiment on how the soulmate system is nothing short of a wondrous gift to humanity.

Glancing at the clock as your professor officially dismisses class for the morning, you suppose you do have something to thank the heavens for. He’s wrapped up fifteen minutes early, which means you’ll have enough time to grab a coffee before your shift.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and once again checking that the fabric of your left sleeve covers your wrist, you slide your laptop into your bag and stand up from your seat.

No matter what particular strand of bullshit this class dragged you through, today will be a good day. Or at least a comfortingly neutral one. You’re sure of it.

With one final scan of your desk, you head to the exit at the front of the lecture hall without a backwards glance.

And in the very back corner of the lecture hall, tucked neatly out of both sight and mind, Yang Jungwon exhales a long sigh before gathering his things.

…..

“Oh, you are an absolute angel.”

Playful frown tugging at your lips, you ask, “Why is it that you only praise me when I come bearing gifts?”

Jake’s too engrossed with taking a long sip of the matcha latte you just handed him to concern himself with giving your question a real answer.

Despite his inclination to be most forthcoming with compliments when they’re a payment for caffeine, he’s hands down your favorite coworker. He’s genuinely kind, easygoing in a way that makes even the longest of shifts pass quickly.

Setting your bag down, you slide into the seat next to his, turning on your desk computer. “Any new applications to process today.”

“Nothing yet.” Jake glances at the empty inbox to confirm his answer. He shrugs, adding, “This time of year is usually fairly slow, though. We tend to get the most applications at the beginning of the semester and around the holidays.”

“Right,” you nod. “That makes sense.” Times when people are fresh on campus, away from home and exploring a new environment for the first time. And times when people are lonely.

It’s something you understand well. After all, you had been part of the latter group when you submitted your own application.

Last year was your first year of university, and although the numbers on your wrist had already faded to a dull, matte gray by the time you enrolled, living on campus put you far away from your support system for the first time in your life.

Even then, you avoided it as long as you could. It hurt something in your pride, felt like admitting a weakness, admitting a flaw. But the truth could only be avoided so long and on one cloudy afternoon in late fall, the loneliness crossed the line from painful to unbearable.

So, with a rain jacket pulled tight around your body, you made your way to the Student Support Center on campus and sought out help for something you’d been grieving in private for the better part of a year.

It had still felt like shame, to disclose the details of your condition. To tell another person about the cosmic cruelty etched permanently into the soft skin of your left wrist.

And then it was done. Your secret belonged to someone else, too. Pain was shared, and over time, started to feel less like a cut and more like a bruise.

It still ached when you pressed on it, of course, but you felt lighter. Able to breathe a little easier.

But even with all of the support, all of the work you’ve done to feel a bit more like yourself, pain is still a shadow that lingers at your heels.

Even now, months later, sitting next to a friend, you suppress the urge to tug at your sleeve again.

You’re able to see your actions for what they are now. And you suppose it’s the same thing – injured pride, a deep sense of shame, that has you wearing long sleeves even as the last days of late summer cling to the air with stifling heat.

It’s not as if your unfamiliar with the failure etched into your skin. You know what you would find, what everyone would see if you were to wear short sleeves for once.

A dull, matte gray 00:00. A reminder of what could’ve been. What should have been, if the universe had just been a little kinder to you.

Even as days and weeks and months pass you by, you still remember when there was a different number displayed there. One that got smaller with each passing second. One that, like your professor’s, like everyone else’s, glowed a bright, glossy red.

Just like everyone else, you were born with red numbers on your left wrist. There was no sign then, at your birth, that you were different. That you were a glitch.

Just like your family, just like your friends, just like every stranger you passed in the street, your number was normal. In fact, it was enviable. Mostly because it was so much smaller than average.

As a child, you’d reveled in it – the comparatively short length of your soulmate countdown. It wasn’t unusual for people to have to wait well into their twenties, thirties, or even forties to find their soulmate.

But a quick calculation had revealed that your countdown would tick to 00:00 just after your seventeenth birthday.

It feels stupid now, like some sort of cruel joke, that you ever thought of yourself as lucky.

You still remember it as if it were yesterday. Two long years ago, at the delicate age of seventeen. On the precipice of a life-changing revelation. A moment that was meant to mark the beginning of your forever. Your happy ending.

The air was clean that day. Lingering with the fresh scent of the earth after a rainstorm. Rebirth. A sign of something beautiful to come. Dew and humidity clung to you like a second skin as you raced towards the neighborhood park that had been haunting your dreams for the last few weeks.

Soulmates and the bonds that connect them aren’t magic, not exactly, but there was still something divine about it, the cosmic energy that sang to you. That told you that this particular park was where your life was destined to change. That it was where you were going to meet your soulmate.

The other person who felt the same gentle tug towards you, whose wrist was stained with a matching countdown, set to tick down to 00:00 at the very second your eyes locked with one another.

Your heart was racing, nearly beating out of your chest. Your fingertips thrummed with it, that overflow of energy that didn’t come from you but belonged to you all the same.

And like everyone else, your timer ran out.

He was there. He was there, and you knew it was him without having to say a word. Across the park, under the shade of an old sycamore tree, you could see it, feel it in his eyes.

Your soulmate.

Handsome and a year older than you, if you had to guess. A perfect stranger that you felt like you already knew. That already understood you without the need for words.

You had been too wrapped up in it, in him, to notice the one striking oddity. Because unlike everyone else, your completed countdown, that ever coveted 00:00, didn’t remain that gorgeous, shiny red.

No, while your eyes were locked on his, heart singing with unfulfilled dreams and visions of a future you’d never have the privilege of knowing, it had faded to that same dull gray that mocks you now.

It wasn’t the color that you noticed. It was the burning sensation that finally had you tearing your gaze away from him and landing on the skin of your left wrist.

Confused, your brow drew together as you tried to make sense of it. As your mind spun, searching for a plausible explanation.

And when you finally found it in you to look up at him again, the wrongness of it all began to sink in. The way he walked toward you with slow, reluctant steps. The way his mouth pulled tight at the corners, as if he wanted to prevent any words from escaping.

The wedding ring wrapped around the finger on his left hand. The already occupied space you thought would belong to you one day.

It was an accident, he told you. Even then, his voice had been steady. He wasn’t pleading for your forgiveness. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need you.

It was nothing more than a drunken mistake between him and a girl he met at university. One that he wasn’t serious about, but damage had been done nonetheless. A single night that was meant to be a blip, a passing moment in time, but had turned into a child. One that the two of them had already made the decision to raise together.

A child that had made them both decide to forgo the fate written on their wrists and forge a new life on their own.

It hurt, he told you, to see you, to know that he was causing you pain.

But one glance at him confirmed for you that his hurt was different from yours. For one, he could still speak, could form words with that same, even cadence that felt like knives embedding themselves into your skin.

You had wanted to beg, wanted to scream until your throat was raw. It was him. It was him. He was supposed to be yours, and you were supposed to be his. Wasn’t it the same for him? Didn’t he feel it too?

But his mind was made up and you knew better than to plead with a man who had fought and forsaken destiny itself.

It wasn’t your fault. He had told that day, and you’ve heard it countless times since then. From your parents. From your closest friends. From your own tear-stained reflection in your bedroom mirror.

But blame with nowhere to go always had a way of ending up on your shoulders, and empty reassurances never stopped your mind from spinning with painful possibilities on sleepless nights.

What if we had met sooner? What if he had never met her? What if they never had a child?

Or even worse,

What if I found him again? Begged him to reconsider? Convinced him to leave her?

In the end, it was pointless. Fate had been written and then rewritten. Would in a tight string and undone in one fell swoop. The stars had aligned and shifted and still remained so terribly out of reach.

There was nothing you could do, nothing to be done.

But it didn’t stop the loneliness from seeping in. It was always loudest in the quiet moments, but it never truly left. It didn’t matter where you were – in class, with friends, surrounded by people, or completely alone. There was always an overwhelming sense of loss, of loneliness that followed you wherever you went.

So last fall, when the burden of it felt too heavy to bear alone, you’d bitten the bullet and applied to your university’s support program for glitches. Although, of course, none of the staff dared to use that word.

It’s where you first met Jake. And the bright red number on his wrist still ticks evenly, he had a friend once, one that shared a fate similar to yours. One who let the loneliness consume her instead of accepting help.

Even though it wasn’t through firsthand experience, Jake knew the pain of a failed soulmate match intimately. And after a handful of weeks, you’d found genuine friendship in him.

After a few months of attending support groups, he was the one who suggested you for an open position on the support team. It was him that thought you might find a renewed sense of purpose, a distinct kind of empathy for the other students on campus with stories like yours.

You’re grateful beyond words for him, for all of it. For the people and the friendships and the small moments that remind you that life is worth living, even on the hard days. Even when you’re forced to sit through classes on soulmate theory and pretend like long sleeves are nothing but a fashion statement.

So you’ll take his compliments with a smile, even when they come at the expense of a matcha latte from his favorite campus cafe. You’ll take the hard days and the good days and all the little moments in between.

He knows it too, even if you don’t say it with words. Even if all you ask is, “The matcha’s good?”

But something in you still smiles, still feels a little lighter, when Jake turns to you with a grin and assures, “Of course.”

…..

If there’s one place you still find to be painfully devoid of optimism, it’s your damn Intro to Soulmate Theory course. Although it’s an important element of existing sociological systems and objectively relevant, it presses on your ever-lingering bruises more than just about anything else in your day-to-day life.

As if that weren’t enough, it’s a morning class. Which means you’re already in a dreary mood as the clock ticks painfully slow through yet another monotone lecture.

Thankfully, your professor’s cadence is beginning to slow, a surefire signal that class is drawing to an end. Again, you glance up at the clock, a spark of pleasant surprise flickering through your mind. Could you really be so lucky as to get out early two classes in a row?

At the front of the hall, your professor scans his notes one final time. Nodding slightly, you really think he’s about to let you go ten minutes ahead of schedule.

But then his eyes pause at the bottom of the page, a reminder he missed the first time.

“Before we wrap up for the day,” he says, and you suppress the urge to groan audibly. “As I mentioned last class, you’ll be completing your next assignment in partners.”

That’s right. You’d almost forgot. Ugh, as if the disappointment of a full length lecture hadn’t been bad enough.

“The instructions, rubric, and due date can all be found on your syllabus, and as always, you’re welcome to email me or attend office hours with any additional questions you may have. I’ve already taken the initiative to place you in pairs, so please listen for your name.”

Glancing down at his notes again, he reads out the first pair.

“Kim Sunoo and Lee Heeseung.”

As he moves through the seemingly endless list of names, you begin to tune out. Have there always been this many people in this class? Admittedly, this is not a lecture that often commands your attention, but it seems like something you should have picked up on.

A minute later, spurred by the sudden sound of your own name, your attention snaps back into focus.

“... and Yang Jungwon.”

Yang Jungwon.

It’s a name you’ve heard in passing, maybe. But it’s not one you’re familiar with.

Standing as the list draws to a conclusion, you begin to look around the emptying lecture hall. You figure it might be easiest to exchange information now, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to find him with everyone else trying to do the same.

Sighing, you decide to try for a minute or two before just resorting to looking up his email on the online class list later and sending him a message there.

Ultimately, it’s him who finds you.

“___?” At the sound of your name, you spin around, looking back over your shoulder.

His presence, like his voice, is unassuming. Still, as your eyes land on who you assume must be Yang Jungwon, there’s something about him that makes you want to keep looking.

Dark hair falls over his forehead, framing equally dark eyes. Dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and oversized jeans, the attention doesn’t seem like something he’d seek out. Even now, he doesn’t quite match your gaze.

“Yeah,” you affirm, somewhat breathless. “Yang Jungwon?”

“Just Jungwon is fine.” He smiles, but it’s a tight, strained thing. Doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s pressing forward before you have time to linger on it. “Do you want to go ahead an exchange information now? I’ll get my final training schedule this afternoon, so I can message you when I have a better idea of when I’ll be able to meet up.”

Well, he seems competent enough. Or at the very least, willing to put in effort. It’s more than you can say for most of the assigned partners you’ve been given. And it’s pleasant surprise in a string of disappointments and what is surely going to be a miserable project to work on.

“That sounds good,” you nod, reaching for your phone. You open a new contact before handing it to him to fill out. As he types, you watch a strand of hair fall over his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush it away, even as your fingertips itch with the sudden urge to.

Instead, you busy yourself with asking a question. “Training schedule?” you echo his earlier words. “Are you an athlete?”

If he’s put off by your probing, he doesn’t show it. Steady as ever, he continues typing. “Mhm,” he hums. “Taekwondo team.”

“Ah,” you nod. “That’s cool.” Accepting your phone back, you type your name into the newly created chat. “Here, I sent you a message with my name, so you have my information, too. I work in the afternoons, but I have a pretty consistent schedule. Once you have your training times, we can figure out when we’re both free.”

Glancing at the message that comes through on his end, Jungwon confirms, “Perfect.” Hiking his bag a little further up on his shoulder, he pauses for a moment before turning his gaze towards the door at the front of the lecture hall.

In the time that’s elapsed, most of the other students have made their way towards it. The room is significantly more empty than it was a handful of minutes ago. Still, Jungwon lingers for a moment.

Finally, he looks back at you. This time, he does meet your eyes.

You know it’s nothing but the overhead lights. The same obnoxious fluorescents that always give you a pounding headache. But reflected in his dark, searching gaze, they almost look like starlight.

“I’ll see you around, then,” he says before turning towards the door.

And if you let your gaze linger just a little too long on his retreating back, you’ll be grateful that no one is paying you enough attention to notice.

…..

Your dinner is cleaned up, skincare is completed, and the events from your day are blurring into a sleepy sort of haze when his first message reaches you.

9:36 pm Yang Jungwon I got my final training schedule. Looks like I should be free Tuesday and Thursday afternoons after 4 if that works for you?

Double checking your work schedule, you type a reply.

9:38 pm You I work on Tuesdays until 6 but I can do Thursday at 4.

9:39 pm Yang Jungwon Let’s plan on Thursday then 👍 Meet you at the library? I’ll reserve a study room on the first floor.

9:40 pm You Sounds good, see you then!

With the semester well underway, Thursday is quick to roll around. Other than a quick wave and a small smile towards him during your last shared lecture, you haven’t had any contact with Jungwon since your last messages.

Even though it’s still only early afternoon, you’re already feeling the weight of a busy day weighing on you when you arrive at the library. A handful of minutes before four, you’re working to locate the study room Jungwon just sent you the number of.

Navigating your way through frazzled study groups and overworked, overcaffeinated upperclassmen, you finally find it with a few minutes to spare. Pulling the door open slowly, you’re half surprised to see that he’s arrived even earlier than you.

Early and straight from practice, you assume, if his still slightly damp hair is anything to go by. Freshly showered, the faint smell of his shampoo reaches you where you slide down into the seat across from him.

“Good call on the study room,” you add after your initial greeting. “I always forget how packed the library is once the semester really gets going.”

“Right?” Jungwon agrees. “I have a friend who swore by them last year, and now I’ll never go back.

“Letting you in on the study room secret,” you grin, pulling out your laptop. “That’s a true friend right there.”

“Yeah.” Something in Jungwon’s gaze softens as he nods. There’s a distinct fondness in his eyes, one that makes you think there’s a story there. One about more than just study rooms. “He is.”

When you finish settling in, you pull up your course syllabus again, clicking on the link to the assignment guidelines. “So,” you start, scanning the page one more time, “the instruction seem pretty straightforward. It looks liek we just need to pick a topic within the realm of soulmate theory and discuss recent research or developments.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you suppress the urge to tug at your left sleeve. Eyes honing in on the screen in front of you, you force yourself into a practiced state of detachment. The one you always revert back into when discussing this particular topic.

“I don’t know if you have a topic in mind already,” you shrug, “but I’m pretty much open to anything.”

Across from you, Jungwon’s teeth start to worry at his bottom lip. He hesitates for a moment, the room suspended in silence before he ventures, “What about –” Shaking his head slightly, his words die on his lips. “Never mind.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Is there something you’re interested in?”

“No.” Jungwon shakes his head again. “I doubt there would be any recent research, anyway.”

“Okay,” you concede. Part of you wants to push further, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Instead, you type in a quick search. “I just pulled up some recent research topics, and it looks like there’s been development related to countdown colors and location based soulmate matches.” Ignoring the sudden slight burning sensation on your left wrist, you fight to maintain an even tone as you ask, “Do either of those sound interesting to you?”

Jungwon pauses for a moment, considering. “Maybe location based matches?”

Exhaling, you release a breath you hadn’t been meaning to hold. With a small nod, you tell him, “That sounds good. Let’s look for publications to reference today. We can divide them between us before we go and then take notes on them separately. We can meet up again next week at the same time to start an outline, if that works for you. We have a little over four weeks until the final paper is due, so that should give us a decent start.”

“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “That works for me.”

Returning to your computer, you fight the urge to steal small glances at him as he does the same. In the minutes that follow, a silence settles around you. It’s not horribly awkward, but you still find yourself itching to fill it with something.

Finally, you bite the bullet. “Would it be okay with you if I put some music on? Just something instrumental.”

Glancing up at you, your eyes meet. Again, you’re not sure how he does it. But tucked away in a library study room, his gaze reflects the lights above you in a way that looks all too much like starlight. “Sure,” Jungwon nods.

Forcing your gaze back to your screen, you navigate to your study playlist and put it on shuffle. The first handful of notes spill into the silence, a calm piano melody that cuts through some of the stagnance.

A handful of classical pieces and a dozen journal articles later, Jungwon breaks the easy rhythm the two of you have fallen into. “Clair de Lune,” he names the tune that has just begun to weave itself around the room. A small smile turns the corners of his lips upwards. “This is on my study playlist, too.”

You offer him a matching smile in return. A soft thing. A shared moment. “You like this song?” It makes sense. A boy with stars in his eyes listening to a love letter to the moon.

“Yeah,” he nods. The quiet melody sings through the air, floats around tentative glances, delicate breaths. Lands lightly on two sets of shoulders. “You know, you’re better than I am. I always end up turning on my regular playlist and then singing along to the songs instead of actually working on anything.”

That earns him a full blown smile. “Believe me,” you lean in like it’s a secret. Something meant just for the two of you. “I do that more than I probably should, too.”

A shared grin later, the two of you are back to your own laptop screens.

Even though it’s your study playlist that continues to filter softly through your speaker, you find yourself distracted for a different reason.

It’s all too easy to imagine.

Jungwon, alone in his room, eyes sparkling even as he fights off the clutches of sleep. A song playing through his speaker. An old favorite, maybe, or perhaps something he heard on the radio and hasn’t been able to get out of his head since. One that he sings along to softly, assignments lying untouched on the desk in front of him.

…..

Despite your newfound fondness of your project partner, you’re sure that Intro to Soulmate Theory will continue to be your most dreaded class until the end of the semester releases you from its twice-a-week morning monotony.

The universe, as always, seems determined to prove you wrong, though.

Just as your professor steps into position behind the podium at the front of the lecture hall, a person slides down into the usually unoccupied seat just to the left of yours.

Startled, you glance up .

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” the boy in question smiles. Switching to a whisper as the professor begins his lecture, he adds, “I’m glad I made it on time. I thought for sure I was going to be late.”

Sliding his bag off of his shoulder, he pulls out his computer and finishes settling into the seat next to yours. Then, he sets something on the desk in front of you. “I brought this for you, by the way.”

Eyes landing on the iced coffee in front of you, you can’t find it in yourself to do anything but stare for a moment.

“I noticed you have one sometimes, in this class.” With your silence, Jungwon suddenly seems unsure of himself. “I wasn’t sure what your order was, so I just guessed based on color. And I mean, light brown can be just about anything with iced coffee, so I hope you like it. I probably should have just asked, but…” he trails off, and you don’t think you imagine the light dusting of pink that settles across his cheekbones. “But I thought it would be nicer as a surprise.”

“I – thank you.” The fondness that’s been growing since your time together in library study room begins to swell again.

You glance at him, and your heart gives a strange, unsteady lurch. Not entirely unpleasant, but disquieting all the same. For a moment, it feels like something bigger. Something more.

Something you haven’t felt since a humid afternoon in a neighborhood park that you’ve been trying to forget for a long time.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Jungwon shrugs, but his cheeks retain their color. “I was stopping by the cafe anyway.” He gestures to the coffee on his own desk, proof of his claim. “Besides, it’s what a partner’s for.”

“Well, thank you,” you repeat. “I –”

“Again,” the sound of your professor’s voice, suddenly sharp, cuts through your words. “I’d like to give a firm reminder to you all that my lectures are not an appropriate place to carry on side conversations. Feel free to exit the room and forfeit your attendance points for the day if you are unable to refrain.”

Thoroughly cowed, you shrink back into your seat as a few wandering pairs of eyes land on you.

At your side, Jungwon shakes with a silent hint of laughter.

Despite the humiliation of essentially being asked to shut up in front of an entire lecture hall, the sight is enough to have you smiling.

And when the two of you part ways an hour later with matching smiles and a promise to see each other again Thursday afternoon, your heart feels lighter than it has in ages.

…..

When Thursday afternoon comes, it finds you and Jungwon tucked away in the same study room, sitting across from one another, laptops open, and outline for your project halfway formed.

This time, the drinks that sit on the table in front of you are courtesy of your wallet. The iced coffee Jungwon brought you a few mornings ago wasn’t your usual order, but it is what you’re sipping on now. You can’t quite decide what you enjoy more: the taste or the sentiment.

Either way, you have a feeling that a tradition of sorts may be blooming.

You can’t say that you mind. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, to have someone to share it with. It doesn’t matter that it’s small. It doesn’t matter that it’s just an unexpected coffee to help a study session pass by just a bit faster. It feels nice, to be considered. To be thought of. It feels… special.

With the same instrumental study playlist filtering through your laptop speaker, the two of you exchange a smile when Clair de Lune begins to play.

With startling clarity, you realize that you enjoy this. It’s pleasant. A project that you were dreading with dragging feet has become something you look forward to.

And you’re sure that it’s because of him.

Despite the fact that you’re poring over research that would sting like a slap to the face under any other circumstances, Jungwon’s presence has a way of soothing the ache. Even as you scan over another promising article detailing the current research on soulmate matches in various geographic regions, you find yourself fighting smiles. Stealing glances.

All Jungwon is doing is sitting next to you. Occasionally trading mindless conversations with you. But that’s enough to keep the reminders of a tragic fate lost to decisions and circumstances out of your control at bay for the time being.

You’re not sure what it is, not sure why it seems to reach you somewhere that’s remained untouched for years, but the more time you spend with Jungwon, the more you start to like it.

That odd sensation that almost feels like butterflies in your stomach. The stilted rhythm of a heartbeat that almost feels like it’s running a little faster, skipping a step every now and then.

The warmth that sits high on your cheekbones and heats almost like a flustered blush whenever he catches your eye for a little too long.

A million little almosts. A thousand little possibilities. The lingering ghost of a hundred somethings you thought you lost along with the dead countdown on your wrist two long years ago.

But you don’t let yourself voice these thoughts. You’re afraid to even let your mind linger on them for too long.

If it does, you’re worried that it will twist and tarnish whatever is taking flight into something ugly, something rotten. Will convince you that this glimmer of peace you’ve found is living on borrowed time and will only bring a future of misery in its wake.

Because the semester will end, the class will finish, and your project will be submitted.

Yang Jungwon will become nothing but a moment in time. A blip on a radar. A distant memory that you hope you’ll reflect on with fondness.

Time will continue on with its incessant march, and the countdown on your wrist will still be that ugly, faded, gray.

It doesn’t matter if the moments that pass between the two of you feel like almosts. Your fate was already written and unraveled by another man who didn’t want you.

You’re a failure. A glitch.

Pretty words and sideways glances and unexpected gestures imbued with kindness won’t change that. Won’t fix you.

Yang Jungwon will move on from this project, from this class, from you.

The countdown that you’re sure must tick bright red on his wrist will continue to get smaller and smaller, and you will be nothing but a forgotten memory.

You’re not sure why it’s so upsetting, here in the sanctity of the study room. Not sure why this series of truths you’ve always known is suddenly so devastating. But something about the way they swirl in the recesses of your mind had you flailing, desperate for air, for distance, for space.

Out loud, you choke out a halfhearted excuse about stepping out for a moment. The concern that immediately flickers across Jungwon’s features barely registers in your panic induced stupor.

You need to go. Need to get away. Need to find somewhere to be alone and away from all of it, from him. You can’t breathe –

“___?” You hear your name. You know it’s him. Hear him ask gently, “Are you okay?”

But it’s muffled. It’s all wrong.

In your haste to escape, you knock over the gift, your gesture of goodwill in the form of coffee you bought for Jungwon.

You watch, horrified, as it falls in slow motion. Hot, dark liquid spills over the table, narrowly avoiding his laptop and class notes.

Of course. Of course you ruined this, too.

“It’s okay,” you think you hear him say as he reaches for a spare napkin, dabbing at the growing puddle. But it’s not. It’s not.

He reaches for his bag, pulling out another handful of napkins from the front pocket. Instinctively, he rolls up his sleeve, the left one, to wipe up the rest of the excess liquid.

That’s when you see it. The inky 00:00 on the inside of his left wrist.

It’s not red. It’s not shiny. It doesn’t make sense for him. A boy with stars in his eyes should have love on his skin.

But even as you blink again, it remains unchanged. It’s a dull, muted, lifeless gray.

A reflection, a twin, a copy of your own.

A moment too late, his eyes fall to the skin of his wrist too. With the practiced reflexes of a trained athlete, he’s pulling it down just as quickly as he rolled it up. But it’s too late. You’ve already seen the truth.

Shared pain. Shared shame.

It grounds you. Reaching out a hand, you take a few napkins from the top of the pile.

“Here,” you offer, voice unbearably small. A million questions swim in your mind, none of which you’ll ask. “I can help.” Hollow words and a hollow sentiment. There’s nothing you can do for him, and he knows it just as well. As luck would have it, spilled coffee is the least of your shared concerns.

Nonetheless, the two of you wipe up the remainder of the spill in silence, a gentle piano melody still weaving its way around the space between the two of you. It wraps itself around both of your stained wrists, threads an invisible string between two lost souls, two shared fates.

Finally, after long minutes, you are the first one to speak. “It didn’t get on your computer, did it?”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. He reaches an outstretched hand towards you, taking the soiled napkins you still hold before discarding them in the trash can. “Just the table.”

“That’s good.” A moment passes. Two. And then, “I’m sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You’re not sure what you should be apologizing for. In the end, you take the easy way out. “I should have paid better attention to where your cup was. You can finish mine, if you want.”

“That’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, Jungwon explains, “I usually only drink it hot.”

“I can get you a new one –”

“Really,” he insists. “It’s okay.”

And it is. You can tell that he’s not upset, not about the coffee. But the tension is still there. Has yet to vacate the room. Has yet to drain from the tight line in his shoulders.

You saw it. You have the sinking suspicion that he knows you saw it.

That puts you at a crossroads. You can act as if nothing has happened, pretend that you saw nothing and do your best to return to your project.

But you’ve had friends and family tiptoe around you for the last two years, and it never left you feeling anything but empty. Even more unwanted, more of an anomaly. More of a glitch.

You don’t want Jungwon to feel those things. Don’t want him to feel as if he has to carry all of his pain by himself. So, you try your best, in a steady voice, hiding the shake in your hands underneath the cover of the table in front of you.

“You know,” you nod towards his arm, taking great care to keep any sign of judgement clear from your voice. “I actually work at the Student Support Center. I know it’s rare, but there are lots of people and resources there dedicated to helping people that… struggle with soulm–”

“I think we should just work on the project.” Jungwon’s lips are tight, drawn into a thin line. Avoiding your gaze, he sinks a little further into his chair. Even with his eyes trained on the floor beneath him, you can see the tension in his jaw, the uneasy tapping of his fingers against his leg.

The way he tugs at the sleeve that sits over his left wrist makes you want to press matters further, to push just a little more until he knows that he has you on his side, but you’ll respect his wishes.

You may have shared moments between the two of you, but you don’t know him, not really. The boundaries he sets are not yours to push. The lines he draws are not yours to cross.

The last thing you want to do is increase his discomfort, even if you have the sinking feeling that you’ve already done just that.

“Okay, yeah.” You take a deep inhale. “I overstepped. I’m sor–”

But Jungwon just shakes his head again. “Don’t worry about it.”

…..

But you do.

You worry about it when you head back to your down nearly an hour later, after bidding him a goodnight that was still riddled with tension.

You worry about it as you prepare dinner, accidentally leaving the stovetop on long after you’ve finished cooking.

You worry about it as you try to fall asleep, unsettling thoughts of Jungwon suffering from the same pain, the same shame you’ve been hiding for the last two years. Distantly, you wonder how long it’s been for him.

You worry about it when you arrive at your next Intro to Soulmate Theory lecture, two coffees in hand.

Your worry turns to dread when long minutes tick by and still, the seat on your left remains horribly unoccupied, coffee going cold where it sits untouched on the desk.

You worry when you arrive at work, the handful of messages you’ve sent still unanswered no matter how many times you check your phone.

10:47 am You Hi Jungwon, sorry if this is annoying but you weren’t in class today and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay

10:58 am You I’m really sorry about the other day at the library. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

1:32 pm You Hey let me know when you see this. I just really want to make sure you’re okay.

You’ve typed and deleted a million more, unsure of how to best approach the situation. You’re not close to one another, not really. You’re not even friends. You’re project partners, and not even of your own volition.

You can’t seek him out, because you don’t know where he lives. Who he talks to. What his schedule is.

The whole situation has you feeling a bit helpless. Your shift passes in an absentminded blur as you try to piece together some kind of solution, some way of making sure he’s okay.

In your daze, you hardly notice that the clock has ticked all the way to the end of your shift. Jake finds you, an apologetic smile on his features.

His voice sounds far away, muddled as he asks you for a favor, asks if you’d be willing to pull a double tonight since the person on the evening shift just called out sick.

Usually you’d be hesitant, but right now you’re desperate for a distraction. Something to take your mind off of the fear that gnaws at your gut.

But through the fog in your mind, you’ve forgotten one thing. In your old schedule, evening shifts were always your favorite. Primarily because they’re significantly slower than the daytime ones. Back then, the reprieve had been welcome, and you’d used the extra time to finish up assignments between tasks.

But now, every agonizing minute feels like an eternity.

And it’s an especially slow night tonight. From your office seat, you watch as the light rain showers outside turn into a torrential downpour. With a sigh, you resign yourself to the fact that no one will be visiting tonight. No one will want to leave their home in weather like this.

In the silence, you’re left alone with your thoughts. Again, you check your phone screen, hoping that sometime in the last three minutes since you last checked, there will be a notification to ease your worries.

But there’s nothing. The only thing that stares back at you is the time and the faint outline of your own reflection.

Frustrated, you set your phone back down. There has to be something you can do. You’re halfway convinced that you should just go through everyone on your class list and send emails until someone knows something when the sound of the chime that hangs above the front door to the center rings out against the silence.

Peering over your computer, you frown. Maybe Jake forgot something.

But as the person draws closer, a familiar shape begins to solidify. And it’s not your favorite coworker.

“Jungwon?” It’s him. You’re sure of it. Even if he looks more like a drowned cat than the boy you share a study room with.

Your brow furrows, a strange mix of confusion and relief coloring your features as you stand from your seat. A million emotions flicker through your mind, running too fast for you to fully keep up. Annoyance that he’s been avoiding you and your messages. Confusion as to why he’s here now. And above it all, cold, sharp relief that he seems to be okay.

But then you let your eyes scan him, falling from his dark hair to his soaked sneakers.

He’s absolutely drenched, down to the bone. Rain soaked hair falls over his eyes, stray drops streaking over his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. Dripping from his dark eyelashes. His clothes, usually baggy, cling a bit closer to his frame with the added weight of precipitation.

And his eyes. His sparkling, shining eyes full of starlight.

They’re frantic now, imbued with a panic you recognize all too well.

“Jungwon,” you repeat, letting your strides eat up the ground as you close the distance that separates you.

He’s shaking, you realize. His entire body trembles. Without thinking, without even really meaning to, your hands reach up to smooth some of his dark, wet hair away from his eyes. Your touch only intensifies his shivering.

He stands, motionless, dripping on the floor. He still can’t match your gaze, has yet to breathe a single word to you.

“You’re shaking.” You can’t help but state the obvious. Removing your hand from his temple, you reach for his hand. It’s cold, too. Raindrops melt against your skin as you touch your skin to his. Finding no resistance, you envelop his hand in your own.

Tugging slightly, you pull him into a nearby room, stopping only to grab a warm blanket. Guiding him gently into a chair, you drape it over his shoulders, let it cover his entire body beneath his neck.

Stepping away from him, you begin to brew a warm cup of tea. After another minute of silence, you hand it to him wordlessly.

You watch him take a tentative sip. His fingertips are red, evidence of the lingering chill in his bones, where he wraps them around the mug.

A million questions bubble in your throat. You breathe life into none of them. Silence settles around the both of you. Not entirely unpleasant, but brimming with something heavy.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. It could be minutes, could be hours. Could be something not bound by the rules and restraints of physics at all.

But soon enough, the mug is empty. Jungwon sighs.

“I just,” he finally breathes, and you feel your heart clench in your chest. Seizing like his pain belongs to you. His voice is ragged, scraped raw. And so, so quiet. “I couldn’t be alone.” There’s a tremble in his fingertips when he adds, “Not tonight.”

“You’re not,” you assure him, shaking your head as you step closer. After a moment of consideration, you slide down into the seat next to him. “I promise you. You’re not alone.”

Jungwon closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the wall. You watch as his throat works around a swallow.

“Okay,” he finally whispers.

You mean it. He’s not alone. You won’t let him be. Not for the remainder of your shift. Not when the early traces of dawn start to streak in through the windows, clouds parting in the morning sky as the rain releases its grip on the world.

Not as the sun starts to peek its head over the horizon, painting the sky in pastel watercolors and the promise of a new day.

Even then, it’s just the two of you. Jugwon’s head it still against the wall. His eyes are closed, but you know he’s not sleeping.

You don’t move until he does. Until he asks in a small voice if you’ll meet him at the coffee shop the two of you have started to become regular at.

Until you honor his request with a nod and a promise to see him again in an hour.

…..

The coffee shop is mostly empty this early in the morning. You watch, sipping absentmindedly on your iced coffee as a handful of patrons come and go, moving about their day blissfully unaware of the way your world feels a bit like it’s spinning on its axis.

But you feel distant from them, too.

The corner table you and Jungwon occupy feels private, secluded. A bit like the study room you’re also well acquainted with. A fitting place for revelations.

After a minute of baited silence, Jungwon begins all at once, coffee warm between his hands.

His match was supposed to be in a park, too.

It’s interesting – the research you’ve been reading on location based matches supports claims that soulmate bonds prefer open air, areas surrounded by nature. Ironic then, that both of yours should end like this.

Jungwon’s fate was set in stone later than yours. His match failed a year ago. Exactly a year ago. Today is an anniversary for him, a terrible reminder of your shared fate, shared shame.

It was supposed to be in a park. His favorite one. A place he went often, a place he loved. He hasn’t been back since.

Not when that eerie, cosmic, magnetic pull of destiny tugged at him until he was sitting on a bench, next to the rose garden that had just begun to bloom.

Not when his breath stopped the second she arrived, and he knew, he knew that it was her. He was looking at his destiny. His soulmate.

But she wasn’t looking at him.

Not when he stood up to greet her, to meet his future with a wide smile and a fresh bouquet of wildflowers just as the shiny, red numbers on his wrist drew closer and closer to zero.

Not when he watched, a distinct sort of dread building in the pit of his stomach, as someone emerged from the opposite side of the garden. He wasn’t carrying wildflowers, but he did hold a single, ruby red rose.

Not when time ticked on, revealing with every steady, agonizing second that this stranger had the same intentions, the same plan.

The same countdown. The same fate.

Not when he watched, motionless, helpless, as this stranger met her first.

Not when he watched in abject horror as both of their faces lit up with smiles. When she took the rose from him with care in her touch and love in her eyes.

Not when he looked down at his own wrist, vision blurring as tears began to gather in his eyes, as bright, shiny red faded to a dull, lifeless gray.

Not when he was a failure, a miscalculation. An unfortunate needle in a haystack of success stories. A glitch.

Not when he watched the woman that was meant to be the love of his life fall into the arms of another man and leave him standing there alone. Lonely. Forgotten.

Not when his fingers began to shake so bad that he couldn’t maintain the grip on the bouquet.

Wildflowers stained the earth beneath him in a garish array of too bright colors, and he knew, even then, that part of his heart would be left there to die, too.

Even now, in the seat across from you in the cafe, you can see the toll it takes on him.

So you strain for a fragment of twisted comfort in the only way you know how. A reassurance that this particular cruelty is not his alone. That somehow, in an unlikely twist of fate, your paths crossed.

Laying your left arm on the table between you, you slowly drag the bottom of your sleeve up. Only an inch. And only for a moment.

It’s not a lot. Against the tides of his own agony, it’s nothing at all. But for now, it’s enough.

…..

There’s an odd sort of balance, a distinct sense of comfort that comes from the simple act of understanding. Of being understood.

It’s not quite as easy, as lighthearted as it was before, but you and Jungwon are quick to fall into a new kind of simple rhythm with one another. One that saves space for the intricacies of your shared pain and shame while still keeping them at an arm’s distance.

It’s not solace. But it is something.

You’re off tiptoes and on solid ground. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel the need to constantly check the length of your left sleeve. At least, not when you’re with him. You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt to sit through hours of lectures on soulmate theory every week.

You don't have to explain any of it. Jungwon just gets it. He already knows.

But when you meet him for your next Thursday study session, two coffees in hand, Jungwon’s eyes aren’t sparkling with their usual stars. There’s something different there now. A kind of fire you haven’t seen from him before. One that glimmers with determination.

As you slide down into the seat across from him, he skips all pleasantries and says instead, “I think we should switch our project topic.”

It takes a concentrated effort not to knock over the coffee you set down in front of you for the second time in the span of weeks. “What?” At this point, your outline has long been finished and you’re well into writing your report. The thought of changing topics with barely a week left until the submission deadline is absolutely ludicrous. “Why?”

Jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. “I think we should do our project on glitches.”

You recoil as if you’ve been slapped.

Glitch. It’s a word people usually tiptoe around, whisper behind closed doors. Not meant for respectable society and certainly has no place in a university research paper.

You don’t even take a second to consider. “No.”

“What?” Now Jungwon is the one who looks surprised. Brow creasing, he presses. “Why? I mean, we’re both gl–”

“I said no.” You can’t hear him say it again. Features falling, Jungwon’s confusion begins to mingle with hurt at the sound of your sharp rejection. This might not be something that you’re willing to compromise, but your intention was never to hurt him, either.

Sighing, you explain, “Look, I’m just not comfortable with it. Besides, we’ve done so much work on this topic already. It doesn’t make sense to switch so close to the deadline.”

Only a fraction of what you’ve said seems to resonate. After a pregnant pause, Jungwon echoes. “Not… comfortable.” His tone is flat, as if your words are indecipherable to him.

He doesn’t continue, but you can tell that he has more to say. Can sense the words bubbling on his lips, begging to drip from his tongue. This is already a sensitive subject, and it’s made even more so by the way he tiptoes around it.

Across from him, your cross your arms across your chest. “I can tell that you have something else to see.” You don’t mean to be combative, don’t mean to start anything. But annoyance is starting to creep in. It’s dragging dread along with it, like an old friend, like a dangerous reminder.

“It’s nothing.” Jungwon shakes his head. “I guess I just don’t…” He trails off for a moment, deciding how best to tread treacherous territory. “How can you not be comfortable? I mean, you’re a glitch like me. Aren’t you curious at all? About why we glitched? If there’s anything we can do to fix it?”

And there it is. The lingering fear you’ve been working for two long years to overcome. The deep, aching insecurity that beneath it all, this is all your fault. That something is fundamentally wrong with you. “Fix me, you mean.”

Jungwon frowns. “I mean, I guess you could look at it that way, but I’m more curious about what kind of solutions there are.” He presses on, oblivious to the way every word sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. The way every syllable pierces like a knife against your skin.

He’s not overflowing with hopelessness where he sits across from you. No, he’s enthusiastic as he tells you, “I did some research the other day, actually, and there’s this one scholar who thinks that all glitches happen for a reason. He thinks that you can still meet your soulmate and get your countdown to turn back to red if–”

“Stop.” Your voice is too loud, too sharp, too much, for the scant space of this small room. “Please,” you’re whispering now, but Jungwon flinches all the same. “Just stop.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows draw into a tight furrow. You thought he understood, but he doesn’t. He still doesn’t get it. He tells you as much. “I don’t understand why you’re so against it. I mean, we finally have a chance to look into why we gli–”

“I said, stop.” Jungwon looks as if you’ve pushed him. Dumped ice cold water over his head and left him out to dry.

But now he’s angry, too. There’s an accusation in his words when he says lowly, “I thought you would understand.”

And you do. You know how flowers wither when they’re left to die without any water. You know how love blossoms and blooms and dies all within the span of a single breath. You know what it feels like to carry a constant reminder of your most intimate pain seared into your skin, your soul.

There was a time when you wanted to be fixed, too. When you would have given anything to have a second chance at that day in the park two years ago. When you were sure if you could just do it again, you would walk away with a different fate. A red countdown. A soulmate.

But the longer you spent with your grief, the more you realized that it didn’t matter. The what ifs didn’t matter. The maybes didn’t matter. The almosts didn't’ matter.

You can’t reverse time. You can’t turn back the clock until your countdown glows red again. You don’t get a second chance at that afternoon in the park.

All you get is the life you have now. And you can grieve for what you’ve lost. Part of you always will. But if you spend the rest of your life lingering on it, obsessed with it, trying to fix it, then that’s all your life will be.

You won’t just lose a soulmate. You’ll lose yourself, too.

You’ll lose new friendships and favorite coworkers and every goal and dream you’ve ever had. You’ll lose quiet moments in secluded study rooms, trading smiles and sharing coffee. You’ll lose every shred of happiness in search of something that never really existed.

Sitting here now, across from Jungwon, you’re not just angry. You feel stupid, too. Ridiculous for ever thinking that maybe, just maybe, butterflies bloomed in the pit of his stomach when he looked at you, too.

That maybe, just maybe, when he matched your gaze, your eyes turned ordinary things into starlight, too.

But even with gray on his wrist and pain in his heart, the distance between the two of you has never felt wider.

Jungwon won’t even match your eye now. He aims for the heart instead. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who I thought would understand. Who knows what it’s like. To lose the only thing in life that really matters.” His voice is small, but it’s teeming with frustration, with misplaced anger. There’s an unmistakable fury in his eyes when he finally lets his gaze land on yours. But you know him now, even better than you thought. You see the pain just as clearly. The confusion, the hurt.

And where he expects to find an apology, or perhaps some sort of agreement, he’s met only with a rage to rival his own.

“Fuck you.” It’s barely decipherable under your breath, but he catches it, even if just barely.

“What?”

You double down. “I said, fuck you, Jungwon. How dare you. You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt, the only person that this stupid fucking system screwed over?” And now your anger has been let loose, the floodgates opened. It rises, ebbs and flows like waves against a shore. Weathering over all the sharp pieces and jagged edges that time hasn’t yet managed to erode. Spills over onto the table like his forgotten coffee from weeks ago.

“Why do you think I work at the support center? Why do you think you’ve never seen me in a short sleeve shirt?”

You’re angry and you’re hurting and you understand his pain. But it’s worse this time. You don’t know why his determination to fix his failed soulmate match stings like rejection. You can’t figure out why it burns in a way that’s all too reminiscent of that afternoon in the park two years ago.

You feel it all, under your skin like an itch you can’t scratch, an ache you can’t get rid of. You don’t know why he didn’t just stop when you asked him, why he won’t just listen to you.

“At least you get to wonder what might have happened.” You don’t mean to do it, to throw his hurt back in his face. To compare pain, to stack your scars against one another and measure them like there’s a winner in this game. “I met my soulmate. I met him and talked to him and fell in love with him and he still didn’t want me. It doesn’t matter what some scholar says. You can’t fucking fix that.”

You’re standing before you know it, heading to the door before you mean to. But you can’t stay here, can’t watch him look at you like that. Not when every word that passes between you opens wounds you’ve spent ages trying to clean.

Not when you know that none of it, even the parts you’d hoped you’d remember fondly, were ever done intentionally. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Didn’t mean to give you butterflies or look at you with starlight in his eyes, and that only makes it worse.

You’re already beneath the doorframe when you find it in yourself to add, “You’re hurting and you’re lonely and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve that pain, and you never will. But I refuse to do this again, to spend the rest of my life thinking there’s something wrong with me. That it’s my fault, that I can fix everything, fix myself, if I just try hard enough. My matched glitched.” You still can’t quite say the word without flinching. “I’m a glitch. But I refuse to let that be the only thing I am.”

When the door shuts behind you, it echoes, even in the crowded hallway.

Your footsteps feel too heavy as they eat up the ground between you and the front door of the library. The late autumn air feels too cold as you walk back to your dorm, enveloped in the quiet of the evening, mind screaming with misplaced rage.

The silence of your dorm room is too loud as you sit alone in it.

And the mark on your wrist is too gray, no matter how you look at it.

…..

Jungwon is antsy.

Even with the space of a day between him and your argument, he’s brimming with a sort of uncontained energy that will only spell trouble if he doesn’t find a way to channel it.

Taekwondo practice helps, albeit only slightly. Physically, at least, it grounds him. There’s a solace to be found in the repetitive motion of his well aimed kicks.

He welcomes the familiar ache in his muscles like an old friend, sweat building on his brow as he lets the calm, flowing energy guide his powerful movements.

But even after two hours on the mat and a long, overly warm shower, Jungwon’s thoughts are still spinning in circles, still doing cartwheels through his mind. He needs to talk, needs to process everything that’s happened, everything that he’s feeling.

But save for one person, he’s not sure who to go to.

It’s then, the last member of his team still towelling off in the locker room, that he realizes that under any other circumstance, the first person that he would want to reach out to, to spill his heart and guts and soul out to, is you.

It’s been weeks, a handful of days, a smattering of hours, since you became a name in his mind. A person with an identity other than the pretty girl that sits in the sixth row of the lecture hall, and yet.

And yet.

Jungwon is suddenly overcome with the urge to reach for his phone, to send a message, make a phone call. His better judgement stops him before he can.

Mostly because he has no idea what he would say. An apology is in order, surely. He still sees the look on your face against the backs of his eyelids. The way pain etched itself into your features, the way your shoulders never quite relaxed after he suggested the topic change on your project.

He’s not sure if this is even something that can be remedied with words, but he is absolutely certain that he never wants to see that look on your face again.

So an apology it is, then. But for what, exactly?

If he’s honest with himself, he still doesn’t fully understand.

He let his anger, his frustration, his pain get the best of him, yes, but it was more than that. He’s not sure why you seemed so personally affected by the idea of exploring research around soulmate glitches. Why that word seemed to eat at you so much.

So he lets his confusion carry him to the only place where he thinks he just might find an answer.

The Student Support Center looks different in the daytime. Jungwon still feels that nagging sense of discomfort as he forces his feet through the front door.

His shame feels most prominent here, in a place where admitting that he needs help still feels like weakness to him.

Swallowing his pride, he forces his footsteps forward. The desk he found you at a handful of night ago is empty. But the one next to it is occupied with another student, a boy. One that looks a couple of years older than you, if he had to guess.

He smiles when he sees Jungwon, offering a generic greeting before he takes another look at him.

Jake, he thinks it must be, if your descriptions are anything to go by. Another person that Jungwon has begun to become familiar with in the past few weeks, albeit only by your secondhand account.

And you must have done the same for him, because Jake is quick to mask his shock with something careful, guarded.

“Hi,” he repeats, standing from her seat. “I’m Jake.” Looking him over once more, something akin to a sigh escapes his lips. “You must be Jungwon.”

Jake, as it turns out, is surprisingly easy to talk to. He understands why you like him so much.

In a matter of minutes, a fairly abridged version of your last library session has been reconstructed, laid bare in front of eyes that know you best.

Jake is silent for a moment, turning over thoughts in his mind before he finally says, “It’s not my story to tell.” Jungwon figured as much. “But I think she would, if you asked.”

Jungwon nods. It’s permission. From an indirect source, maybe, but hope flutters through his chest all the same. He has a goal now, something to work towards. Something that he hopes will fix whatever has shattered between the two of you.

There’s a brief pause before Jake speaks again. “What I can say is that she’s done a lot of work to move on. To find meaning in her life outside of the number on her wrist. To stop feeling incomplete, like a burden, like a problem to be solved.”

And I threw those fears back in her face, Jungwon realizes, something twisting unpleasantly in his gut.

The despair must play out on his features, because Jake is gentle when he says, “I won’t pretend to know what it’s like, but I do know how it feels to grieve for what could have been. It’s easier, sometimes, I think, to let that consume you. To spend your life trying to get as close to that lost future as you can, even though you know it will never be quite right. Even though you know you’re chasing ghosts.”

Jake folds his hands across his lap, lacing his fingers together.

“She made the decision to let those ghosts rest, to let that part of her life go. To find something else worth living for instead. For the small moments, maybe. For joy, for love. All those things that she still gets to feel.”

That you still get to feel. Jake doesn’t say it, but Jungwon hears it all the same.

“Those things that nothing, not even fate, gets to take away.”

Jungwon glances down at his wrist. It’s covered, but he can feel the ever present weight of it. Of the gray mark that he knows, deep down, will never fade. Will never change.

And for the first time in a long time, that truth doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

“I…” Jungwon isn’t sure how to wrap his gratitude in words. “Thank you.” For telling him. For helping you. For being here. “For all of it.”

“Of course.” Jake smiles. Lets his fingers fall to his sides as he stands, brushing invisible dust from his lap. “Joy is even better when it’s shared, no?”

Joy is even better when it’s shared.

For the first time in a long time, Jungwon smiles. A real smile, a face-splitting, toothy, uncontrollably wide smile. One that hurts his cheeks and reaches all the way to his eyes.

It’s still there when he’s walking back to his dorm.

It’s still there when he sits down at his desk, reaching for his computer and turning on the last playlist he was listening to earlier, just for something to fill the silence.

After a handful of moments, a familiar melody begins to lilt through his speaker.

Clair de Lune. It’s a tune he would know anywhere. It reminds him of moonlight, of starlight, and everything in between. It reminds him of long study sessions and stolen glances and tentative whispers.

It makes him smile even harder.

Looking at the computer in front of him, Jungwon thinks fate just might be a tangible thing.

He feels it in the back of his throat first and then the base of his nose. The telltale stinging sensations that always comes at the first sign of tears.

He lets it. Welcomes it. Allows them to fall.

Alone in his room, hard, long sobs wrack his entire body and leave him gasping for air. Sorrow and grief and anger and joy all tangled together in one.

Because Jungwon is done mourning himself, the ghost of a life that has haunted him for the last year. The future that was never his to begin with. The weight of possibilities that time cannot undo, that sheer will alone cannot change.

Joy is even better when it’s shared.

And he thinks he’ll start with himself.

…..

The knock on your front door is unexpected. And it comes just too late at night for you to feel comfortable opening it without a second thought. Footsteps padding as silently as possible towards the entrance to your dorm, you run through the short list of people you think could possibly be knocking at your door at this hour and come up blank.

Against your better judgement, you undo the latch, opening the door slowly as if that will be enough to deter any unwanted visitors.

Thankfully, the sliver of space doesn’t reveal a threat. But it does have your brow furrowing in confusion.

“Jungwon? How did you–”

Explanations for how he found your address are not at the top of his priority list. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, words tumbling out all at once. “I don’t…” A pained expression crosses his features. “I’m not good with words, and I don’t always know what the best thing to say is, but I’m sorry. I never should have said those things about you, about us. I – we’re not glitches.” He pauses, frowning. “I mean, we are, but that’s okay. We’re okay. There’s nothing to fix, and I’m sorry that I made it sound like I think otherwise.”

He trails off again, jaw working as he swallows the lump in his throat. “I… You have to know that I think the absolute world of you, ___. I would never, ever want to say or do something that makes you think otherw–oof.”

Jungwon’s words die with the sudden impact of your head against his chest, arms wrapping tight around his torso. Shock renders him immobile, just for a moment, before he’s melting into your touch. Returning your embrace as his arms twine around your back, fingers settling against your spine.

It’s all there, wrapped up in this moment. A solid foundation. A warm place to land. Things that futures can be built upon. Things that can breathe life into possibilities, into almosts, into maybes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and it’s lost somewhere against the skin of his neck.

“For what?”

“For everything you said.” You melt a little further into him, and Jungwon hopes that he never has to move. “For being here.”

You mean it. He knows it.

He lets his cheek rest against the crown of your head. You feel the movement of his jaw when he tells you, “It’s the only place I wanted to be.”

He means it. You know it.

…..

epilogue.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You know,” Jungwon rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips, too. “The more you keep asking that question, the less inclined I am to answer it.”

Huffing, you argue. “We’ve been walking for thirty minutes.” With still no destination in sight, mind you. “Don’t I deserve some kind of explanation.”

“That’s what the coffee was for.” Jungwon’s smile turns into a grin, one of those real ones that lights up his eyes. That has starlight reflecting in them. One that has you returning a smile o your own, despite your complaints. “To distract you from the physical labor.”

“Well, we can’t all be on the taekwondo team.”

Jungown just rolls his eyes again. “We’re almost there. I promise.”

And despite it all, you believe him. Because it’s been six months since you were first assigned as project partners and nearly two since your shared class ended. And he’s still here. Still a permanent fixture in your life. Still responsible for so many moments you’ve come to look forward to, so many memories you know you’ll cherish forever.

Because despite the gray numbers on your wrists, you’re both dressed for the activity. It’s nearing winter now, but it’s unseasonably warm. With the physical exertion included, it’s weather that calls for short sleeves.

Because there’s no one else you’d walk thirty minutes towards an undisclosed location for.

Because there’s no one else that understands you the way he does, not just from shared circumstances, but also as a result of effort. Of honest conversations and the genuine desire to listen. To learn you. To know you like the back of his hand.

Because to him, you’re just you. A person capable of joy and anger and grief and love and all of the beautiful, wonderful, messy things that comes with being a human. You’re not a failure, not something to fix. Your identity isn’t constrained to the gray mark on your wrist.

Because you think you might love him for it.

Because you know that you do.

And when you finally arrive at the small neighborhood park ten minutes later, the only thing you’re thinking about is how beautiful the lake looks bathed in the glow of afternoon sunlight.

Later, sprawled on a picnic blanket underneath the shade of an old sycamore tree, overlooking that same lake, you’ll turn to him and whisper some nonsense about recent studies claiming that soulmates often find each other surrounded by nature. Particularly in the presence of a body of water.

Jungwon will roll his eyes, will brush a strand of hair away from your forehead while he tells you that he doesn’t care, that it doesn’t matter, that it’s all a bunch of nonsense anyway.

His smile will be soft, as he hands you the small makeshift bouquet of wildflowers you hadn’t noticed him collecting on your journey here. You’ll tuck your favorite one behind your ear before you lean back against his chest.

And it will feel a little bit like coming home, like resting after a long day, like basking in the first rays of sunshine as winter finally releases its grip on the world and blooms into a glorious spring when he intertwines his fingers with yours and whispers against the shell of your ear that he thinks you’re beautiful.

Fate is a funny thing, you’ll think as his breath tickles the skin of your neck, sends a shiver down the length of your spine.

And no matter how many nights we’ve spent berating it, cursing it, resenting it, I’ll always be glad that it has led us to this. Or maybe, you’ll wonder as he presses a gentle kiss to the curve of your cheekbone, the space between your eyebrows.

Maybe we led it. Grabbed fate by the collar and forced it to bend to our whims like that masters of destiny we are.

Whatever it may be, I’m glad that it brought me here.

To joy. To love.

And most of all, to you.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love hearing your thoughts. All the best ♡♡

#jungwon fanfiction #jungwon fanfic #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #jungwon angst #jungwon fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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you-call-it-a-dude · 1 year ago

Text

Call It What You Want

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

Summary: You went to high school with Regina George and she is now your neighbor in your college dorm. She, of course, pretended like she didn't know you at first. Until she got some alcohol in her system.

Pairings: Regina George x gender neutral/fem reader

Warnings: internalized homophobia, feelings, school lol, swearing

Notes: Hi, yes. So this is my first time writing for not only Regina George but also for like reader POV. If it's any good and something people enjoy, I will do more of it. Hopefully you like it, but if you don't that's totally cool too. Thanks for reading either way.

------

You had managed to, for the most part, avoid Regina George your three years at North Shore High School. You transferred there your sophomore year, your mom taking full advantage of your dad's Evanston address when you got in trouble once at your public high school in the city. You didn't even actually do anything, but both your parents prioritized your future college education too much to let even a thought of bad behavior ruin it.

You made it through high school pretty unscathed. You laid low, had your small group of friends and kept to yourself.

You witnessed the rise and fall of Regina George in real time. You felt bad for her almost. Yes, she was a major bully, but the one time you overheard her dad yelling at her at a parent teacher conference kinda made some things make sense. She also didn't really target you with her bullshit.

Well, okay, someone wrote in the burn book that you were a carpet muncher and would call you a gay slur here and there, but you've been called worse things. People in that book were certainly called worse things.

Senior year was relatively quiet after Cady dismantled The Plastics.

Regina had taken up soccer, which was actually a really terrifying thought given the neck injury she sustained. She was good though. Good enough to get into University of Illinois, Chicago with a partial soccer scholarship.

But of course, her parents writing a big fat check may help with that.

She didn't even need the scholarship. You don't even know how she got away with getting it.

You also were accepted to UIC. You worked harder than Regina did academically, had some of the best grades in your class, did all the volunteering and extracurriculars, and you still didn't get close to the same amount of money offered in scholarships that Regina got (and didn't need).

You were angry when you found out about her almost full ride, but it was a big school and you were almost certain once you were graduated you wouldn't even be giving Regina George ,or anyone from that high school aside from your best friend, a second thought.

Seeing her at orientation seemed like just a coincidence. Watching her get her keys to the same dorm you were staying in had to be a fluke. Passing by her room, the room that happened to be next to yours, just seemed like you were being punked.

You got yourself settled while waiting on your roommate. You had been speaking with them throughout the summer and know they're coming from Colorado and also know they wouldn't be coming until tomorrow because they texted you. So you were taking advantage of this time to get yourself sorted without having to rush or anything.

You left your door open while you got yourself unpacked, a bunch of people coming by to introduce themselves to you or stop in and talk.

There was a soft knock and you turned your head, expecting to greet another person. Instead stood Regina, leaning against your wall with her arms crossed.

"Hello." You greeted, sounded a little surprised.

"Hi, I just thought since we were going to be neighbors I would introduce myself."

She almost sounded nice? Pleasant?

She also clearly did not recognize you. Yeah you trimmed your hair a bit and dyed it slightly darker, but nothing extremely different.

But this also really helps solidify just how invisible you were to her in high school.

You had two routes. You could bring up the fact that you actually know each other and make it weird, or just introduce yourself.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm Y/N."

"Regina. No roommate?" She pointed to the empty side of your room with her head.

"Coming from Colorado. So long drive." You scrunched up your nose at the thought of how long that drive was and she hummed in acknowledgment.

"Are you from around here?"

"Uh, yeah. The city, northside. You?"

"Evanston, so basically from the city."

"Ahh, you're one of those people." You chuckled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She scrunched her eyebrows up, clearly getting defensive.

"You say you're from the city but you're from the suburbs. That's all I meant." You said softly, watching her face soften when she realized you weren't actually insulting her.

"Most people don't know where Evanston is, so." She defended with a small smile.

"Unfortunately for you, I do." You smiled back at her.

"Are you going to the freshman mixer tonight?"

"I didn't even know there was one." You answered truthfully.

"Mkay, you're gonna come with me then. I'll be back at like nine?"

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and saw it was only like 11am and you quickly realized the long night you've gotten yourself into.

Or that Regina had gotten you into.

"Yeah, that sounds cool."

"Awes. See you later then." She slapped your doorframe once before leaving.

But you didn't miss the way she turned and let her eyes linger on you for just a few seconds longer than what's considered socially acceptable.

---

You spent the rest of the day unpacking and getting settled. You went off campus for lunch then took a walk to get some refreshing frozen lemonade from a popular place near by and drank it while you made your way back to your room.

Regina was still setting her dorm up to her standards. Her door was open and when you peaked in, she was standing on a wobbly chair trying to tape posters to her wall.

Of course she got a single room.

"Need help?" You took a sip of your partially melted peach lemonade and knocked on her doorframe to get her attention.

"Yes, please. That would be great." She said, sound exasperated.

You held out a hand to help her off the chair, but she ignored it. Opting to just brace herself on your shoulder instead. You scratched your head and assessed the situation. You weren't really much taller than her, but your arms were longer so that could work in your favor.

You looked around for somewhere to set your drink before she took it from you to hold. You stepped on to the death trap of a chair and did your best to hang the poster. It was of an artist you had never heard of, but you wouldn't be opposed to new music if she was any good.

You pressed the corners of the poster against the wall and moved out the way. Regina thought for a few seconds before asking you if it was possible to 'pretty please' move the right side up like a quarter of an inch.

You did your best to gauge a quarter of an inch, and your best was thankfully good enough because Regina was satisfied with your efforts pretty fast.

She reached her empty hand up to help you off the chair and you hesitated at first, but took it. She stiffened her arm and gave you a firm platform to put your weight so you had support when hopping down.

Did part of you kind of expect her to let you fall? A little yeah.

"So, what are my chances of getting you to build something for me, too?" She asked sweetly while she handed you back your drink and you took a sip, your dry throat feeling relieved already.

"It depends what it is."

"It's a stupid metal shelf thing." She stepped aside and over the metal parts scattered across her floor.

There was an attempt made, so you at least know she tried before asking.

"Yeah, that looks easy to me. Do you have the instructions?" You handed your drink back to her and kneeled on the floor, rifling through all the pieces.

She set your drink down on the desk and handed you the instructions, sitting down on the floor next to you with her legs crossed.

This shelf wasn't too difficult to build, but it was definitely frustrating. The pieces were in the right spot but they just weren't fitting. Regina complained about how her parents bought her such cheap stuff and didn't even stick around to help her build it. It wasn't like they had a long drive home ahead of them.

She kept apologizing for asking you to help her with stuff or for the shelf being too difficult. She said many times that if you couldn't get it she would just throw the shelf away and not to worry about it if it didn't work out.

You reassured her that it was really okay and you were happy to help. That there was no need to throw out a perfectly good shelf. After a few pinches to your skin, a few scrapes from jagged edges, and a lot of swearing later, you managed to get it built for her.

You didn't expect her to be as involved as she was. She was handing you pieces, going over the directions with you.

You stood up and picked up the shelf, turning it up right so it was standing correctly. She stood up after you, eyeing the shelf with her hands on her hips and nodding.

"That looks perfect. Thank you so much, really."

"You're so good, happy I can help." You picked up your now melted lemonade and took a sip, trying not to be visibly upset over the fact it was no longer frozen.

"Did you get that on campus?"

"No, it's a few minutes away. Really close by. You didn't know that, city girl?" You teased and bit back a smile when you noticed the small blush to her cheeks.

"I was going to offer to buy you a new one, but since you want to be mean I'm taking that offer of the table." She crossed her arms with a small pout and the overwhelming urge to kiss it away scared you.

"No, no. I wouldn't accept anyway. It was like halfway gone. No biggie, honestly." There was an awkward pause between the two of you. "Um, was there anything else you needed help with? Or should I go?"

"You can go now." She said in a tone that felt like a war flashback or something. "I'll swing by your room to pick you up at like 8:45."

"Do you still want me to go?" You asked, because honestly her tone was suggesting otherwise.

"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't." She defended, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

---

9:15pm and you were sitting at your desk dressed and feeling stupid. Because of course Regina was still going to very much so still be Regina.

There was a knock at your door and you waited a second before answering it.

When you opened the door, you keep your face neutral and unimpressed. Which was actually extremely difficult to do because Regina looked breathtaking.

"Yeah, I know. I'm late. Also, you look hot." She commented and it immediately made you feel self conscious because you couldn't gauge if it was genuine or not.

You thought you looked good, but Regina had been notorious for giving out fake compliments.

"Thanks."

"So you agree? You think you're hot?"

Jeez, talk about a war flashback.

"I do." You answered without missing a beat, but your insecurities were threatening to crawl their way out of your mouth at any second.

Regina pursed her lips and nodded in approval at your response and you slowly let out the breath you had been holding.

"Let's go then."

---

Regina abandoned you the second you guys got to the mixer. Which you half expected. You quickly realized that this was not an official university organized event, though the 9pm start time should've made that clear ages ago.

Another indicator being that they were at a frat house.

Alcohol was flowing, students from all different grade levels were mingling.

You grabbed a cup of whatever alcoholic beverage was concocted and got to mingling.

You talked with a few people that you found out you would be sharing classes with, which was cool.

After about an hour of mingling and drinking, you found your way to the front porch and parked yourself on their porch swing and just did a bunch of people watching.

A cat with a collar came and sat next to you, purring and nuzzling against you. You had no idea if it belonged to the frat house or if it was a stray that just frequented the area. The collar said her name was Roach which really made you thing she belonged to the frat boys, but an off campus address on the back put those fears to rest.

"You found a cat!" Regina slurred, stepping out of the house loudly. Her heeled boots clicked against the floor of the porch and she slammed the door behind her, completely shutting out the thumping noise of the party.

"Yeah! Well, more so she found me. Her name is Roach."

"Ew." She hiccuped and made her way over to you, sitting next to Roach. She angled her body and rested her head on your shoulder. "I have to tell you something." She slurred again, reaching down to let the cat sniff her hand before petting her between the ears.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I remembered you and I pretended like I didn't." She lifted her head up to look at you. "But you're a sneaky bitch too because you did the same thing." She poked your cheek with her index finger until you turned your head away from it.

"You talked to me first. I wasn't going to bother you." You admitted, getting a little frustrated.

"Why? You didn't want to talk to me?" She asked, sounding almost disappointed?

"I didn't think you'd want me to. Then I thought it would be really embarrassing if I said I remembered you and you introduced yourself to me. So I just didn't say anything."

"I didn't want you to tell anyone about who I was in high school." She rested her head against your shoulder again. "I just wanted to start over."

"I'm not going to say anything." You said quietly, a little disappointed that the only reason she tried befriending you was to do damage control.

"I feel bad about it."

"About what?"

"How I treated people." She sniffled, clearing her nose. "I'm sorry about what I wrote about you."

"It is what it is." You shrugged. "It's not like I hid my sexuality or anything."

"You didn't. It made me jealous."

Your ears perked up at this admission. You didn't know whether or not to press on or drop the subject. Whatever amount of alcohol she drank was giving her loose lips and you aren't actually sure how much of this information she actually wants anyone to know.

"You don't want to talk about this sober?" She shook her head against your shoulder.

"Talking about it sober is hard."

"Your parents not accepting or...?"

"My mom? Maybe. Probably. My dad? Absolutely fucking not." She took your drink from your hand and downed the rest of it.

"We don't have to talk about this anymore." You offered while she was downing your drink.

"I'm gonna get another drink." She began to get up, but you pulled her back down"

"Hey, no. Come on. Just stay here with me and Roach." You motioned to the purring cat between you both. "I don't want to lose track of you or the cat. So just stay."

Regina sighed and leaned back against the back of the porch swing. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at you.

"What if we brought the cat inside with us while I got a drink." She offered, giving you a silly little smirk that made your heart somersault.

"I think it's too loud for her in there." Roach let out small meow. "See, she agrees." You scratched under her chin, trying to ignore the way Regina was staring at you right now.

"You were always so nice to us."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I let Gretchen drive my car one time to get us lunch and she got a flat tire in the school lot and you helped her change it so I wouldn't get mad at her. You talked her out of a panic attack because she was so afraid of me."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." You lied.

"Or when Karen was upset after the Christmas show junior year because I was just so cruel to her about her body count. Which wasn't even high. I saw you bringing her that stupid red and green caramel popcorn that the cafeteria was selling for the show."

"I saw her crying, I thought it would cheer her up."

"You also gave me ice when they dropped me on my face and you tried taking care of me."

"I was working backstage and nobody else wanted to help you. Though, I do recall being called a shitty name or two when I did that." You teased.

"I know. I'm sorry. Like really fucking sorry. I was just...projecting."

"I know." You reassured.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, watching people come in and out of the house. Regina adjusted next to you and you put a protective had on Roach and scooted her closer so Regina had more space to move.

You could feel her staring at you. It made you anxious because who knows what she was thinking about.

Regina shifted again and before you can even register her movements, her lips were pressed softly against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"I always thought you were so hot." She mumbled against your skin, her tongue poking out slightly to taste you and her right hand coming up to cup your neck.

You froze for a few seconds, getting lost in the sensation of her lips on your skin, before your rational thoughts kicked in.

"Regina." You said calmly, pulling her hand on your neck. "You're drunk." You laced your fingers with hers and rested your joined hands on your lap.

You watched her stare at your hands, fully expecting her to go off on you or to say something cruel in her drunken state.

Instead, she swiped her thumb over your knuckles and hummed a small approval to herself.

Then a cluster of rowdy frat boys came fumbling out of the house and she let go of your hand faster than anything you had ever witnessed before.

She wiped her hands on her pants and stood up with such ease that it made you question if she was ever even that drunk to begin with.

"I'm gonna get another drink. I'll find you when I'm ready to go."

#regina george x reader #Regina George x you #my fic

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 1 year ago

Note

hi!!! i just started tgcf recently and i LOVE IT😭(don’t worry about spoilers, i already researched all that happens LOL)

can i request headcanons on san lang/hua cheng x xie lian x male reader (poly) who’s really bubbly, funny, and is always kind, and is overall just a sunshine! but in bed readers just a subby, babbling, crying mess, and praise really gets them going?

thank you!!! take care of yourself :)

Sunshine headcanons

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

Of course you can and tyy🖤 bear with me as I may not be very good with smut yet but Imma try for you🫵😚🖤 headcanons also terrify me. I don't want to mischaracterize them. It keeps me up at night 😭 so if it's slightly out of character. That's my bad. Like especially if the smut is out of character bro😭

Sunshine headcanons part two

___________________________________

You've always been bubbly, it's in your nature. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian love you for it. They love to see their lover smiling and happy and they wouldn't dare let someone be a threat to your happiness.

Xie Lian also has a very sunshine personality so the both of you in one room may make Hua Cheng blind in his other eye by how bright it is

Hua Cheng is mischievous so of course he has plenty of silly jokes up his sleeves and it's his favorite past time to make you laugh. He'd do anything for the both of you if he could see you guys smile everyday.

He wishes you were more careful though. With that sunshine personality of yours, you go out of your way to be kind. Your kindness of course is why he loves you, but your kindness exceeds the normal amount someone should have.

It causes him and Xie Lian to worry about you.

What do you mean you almost got hit because you were in the road helping a turtle to the other side???

What do you mean you let someone lead you away to a secluded area because they needed help carrying something???(They did actually need help).

So that's why the three of you are always seen together. The two of them having to put you on some invisible leash so you don't wander off

More often than not though you end up dragging Xie Lian with you.

With the both of you being so kind and Xie Lian not having the ability to say no to you, you're able to get him to come with you during your little adventures of kindness.

Which leaves you and Xie Lian using Hua Cheng as "scary dog privileges".

Your welcoming presence is overshadowed by Hua cheng's scary aura. In fact people are quick to run the other way. Not that you've ever figured out why.

While Hua Cheng is very outwardly protective of the both of you and is a looking presence, Xie Lian is kinder but still protective.

On the off chance that Hua Cheng isn't with the two of you leaves Xie Lian to look after you. At first impression he's very kind and even let people run over him like he's a rug. Him and you are a different story.

Xie Lian would never stand by and let someone step on you like a rug. While he does prefer to talk things out, he knows how to fight if he needs to. You don't.

So you have two boyfriends that are also built in body guards good for you.

With you around you've taken over cooking. While Hua Cheng loves Xie Lian's cooking, you think he's blinded by love to actually see what he's eating.

You love Xie Lian you just don't want food poisoning, but you know Xie Lian enjoys cooking

So it's a very domestic image when the two of you are in the kitchen working together. Hua Cheng stands at the side watching the two of you bustle around.

There's three of you but it's never crowded. If Hua Cheng is supposed to be the moon and Xie Lian is supposed to be the sun, then you're their star and they love you to pieces.

Inside the bedroom is a different story though.

Hua Cheng is great in bed and often takes a dominant role, Xie Lian has no problem being obedient.

However with your addition they both team up on you. They can't help it really it's your own fault.

On the outside you're so sweet and kind. In bed you're just so fragile and obedient.

Hua Cheng likes to bully and tease you. Just a little bit. Which often leaves you a crying, babbling mess.

Xie Lian ever so kind, is your savior. Giving you little kisses, reassuring you, and getting Hua Cheng to behave himself. He knows damn well his attempts at stopping Hua Cheng are half-assed though.

You're just so submissive, willing to do anything you're told so they love to spoil you. Sometimes too much.

♡

#hualian #hualian x reader #tgcf headcanon #hua cheng x reader #tgcf #tgcf x male reader #xie lian x reader #tgcf hualian #tgcf hua cheng #hua cheng #tgcf xie lian #xie lian

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vxxxxed · 2 months ago

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I'd love to talk about Butcher!Simon. >u<

He's my favorite fucked up special boy. I like to think he has a set of Damascus knives that he keeps perfectly sharp.

Maybe he sees the reader coming in, buying the cheap stuff, barely talking to the cashier, scared when the package bleeds at the edges. He watches for them again, sending the cashier on break so he could talk to them finally.

Maybe they hand him a crumpled wad of bills. He notices the bruises on their arms. So what if the cut of meat he gives them is worth more than they paid? Can't have his shy birdie going hungry.

Maybe they come home one day to him sitting on their couch. Their abusive partner is gone. The tub is a little pink, but that's okay.

Maybe he reassures them through their tears that he's nothing like the meat he cuts up.

[TWs for idek how to tag this, brief implied cannibalism and kinda mentions of how you'd butcher your lover to eat them but it ends there and none of that actually happens and no one's intending for it to you're just talking about it?]

I was gonna say I don't have anything to add to this but if I may go off on a tangent (excerpt from a fic I'm working on), Ghost who is in the 141, left his old life behind (not like he had a choice when it was all taken from him anyway), but he retained all the stuff he learned when he was younger. You see a couple YouTube shorts from hunters explaining how to cut up their kills, and get interested about the process. And maybe that turns into some sort of weird form of intimacy between the two of you. (Alternative working title: Autism be Damned, That Boy Can Meat)

..."Bloody 'ell, watch the pet names there, luv. I might start thinkin' you fancy me or somethin'," he teased, his voice a low rumble that was honestly weirdly satisfying to listen to now that your cheek was pressed to his sternum. "If you wanna learn about cuts a' meat, might as well 'ave a quick lesson. You got a pen and paper there?" He asked dryly, his own form of humour as he rubbed circles against the back of your neck with his thumb.

"Start with the basics, yeah? Prime cuts are gonna be the tenderest, 'cause they come from the least-worked muscles. Ribeye, sirloin, that sorta thing. Gotta keep 'em cold to preserve the fat, though. You let that melt, and you lose flavour."

As he spoke, Simon's hands moved almost unconsciously, mimicking the motions of breaking down a side of beef. His slightly chilly fingers traced invisible lines across your back, mapping out different sections, trying to remember. "Then you got your secondary cuts - brisket, short ribs, that sorta thing. Tougher, but full o' flavour if you cook 'em right. Need time and low heat to break down all that connective tissue."

He hesitated, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to remember more specifics. "Ah, you got your off-cuts too. Offal, bones, all'at. Nothin' goes to waste in a proper butcher shop. Even got some fancy restaurants that'll pay good money for that stuff nowadays." Another pause, "Well, used to, anyway."

---

"Trying to figure out how you'd butcher me, Simon?" You'd giggled at the feeling of his fingertips tracing your ribs, but there was nothing but trust and love in your eyes.

Like his own perfect little lamb.

#call of duty #current wip #cod #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #butcher!simon #butcher!ghost #this is shitty

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rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Aggressive mimicry

Synopsis: A power blackout hits your base, plunging you into darkness. As fear grips you, Ghost tries to calm you down. Little did he know you had other things in mind.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,085

Notes:

Aggressive mimicry: a tactic in which a predator acts harmless to lure its prey.

Fluff. A little suggestive, but SFW.

No, there’s no part 2.

Want more?

———————————————————————

Looks like you’ll both be working until late this evening. New recruits are constantly arriving, and the base is rapidly filling up.

The two of you take comfort in the silence of your office, a small space with two desks next to each other and a bookshelf full of records lining the opposite wall. It’s a little tight, especially with the new chairs you brought for the interviews. However, you cannot conduct them anywhere else since they’re confidential and private. Your job is to assess the recruits’ mental health, look into any past traumas that may have affected them, and determine their trustworthiness with firearms. Ghost, on the other hand, interviews them about their battlefield abilities and skills.

Under normal circumstances, he does not wear his mask when in the room with you. But these aren’t normal circumstances; People are constantly coming in and out of the office, and he feels uneasy without it.

“He was good, that last one,” he says, his attention still fixed on the paperwork. “Don’t mark him.”

“He suffered three concussions in his last deployment and reeks of alcohol,” you explain, baffled. “How can you trust him?”

“These are the best,” he shrugs, “they’ve got nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, stunned, as you look at him. You two come from different worlds.

“Have you considered therapy, Lt. Riley?” you ask sarcastically.

“Have you considered minding your own business, Dr Y/N?” he snaps back. You knew what he was going to say even before you asked. But you enjoyed teasing him every now and then.

“It’s ‘Professor Y/N,’ please.”

Instead of responding, he mockingly repeats your statement, imitating you and pushing invisible glasses up his nose bridge.

You chuckle, and he turns to look at you, slightly proud that he made you laugh. Your opposing personalities complement each other well, with your order and his chaos balancing each other out. It was like mixing black and white to get some form of grey. And that’s the state you’ve been in for years—in a grey area. You two have never been romantic. Still, the flirting was definitely there, even if it came in the form of playful jabs and teasing.

Ghost shuffles through his papers before turning to face you. “Where are the next ones’ files?” he wonders.

You look over your desk and move your gaze to the bookshelf. “I must have left them on the shelf,” you say as you stand up. “Let me go get them.”

But as you approach the bookshelf, everything goes dark—pitch black.

“What just happened?” you yell in a high-pitched voice.

“The lights went off,” he says calmly. “The base has too many people to handle all that power cons-”

“Shut the fuck up, Lieutenant!”

“You just asked me-”

“I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING!”

You freeze in place, with your back against the bookshelf like a trapped animal. You try to see through the impenetrable darkness, but nothing is visible. Fear grips you and paralyses you.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Ghost says through the darkness, and you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Despite his words, the panic rises. As your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, you get ready to defend yourself. You lash out, grabbing the first thing you can get your hands on and swing right at the source of the touch.

“What the hell, woman!” Ghost curses in pain.

“G-Ghost?” you stammer, “is that you, Lieutenant?”

“How could it be anyone else?” He says and rubs his forehead. “Christ, professor, no wonder you know so much about concussions.”

“Did I get you good?” you ask, worried, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve had worse,” he assures you, taking your hand and placing it on his chest while muttering soothing words.

As you touch the coarse texture of his uniform, you apply a bit of pressure to get a better feel of him. And just like that, the fear fades gradually, giving way to a more... playful mood. You slide your hand up to his shoulder, then back to his chest. You can feel his heart rate increasing as it desperately pumps the blood it requires for him to stay sane. But he doesn’t need sanity right now; he must lose it completely. So you do it again. He lets out a sigh.

“These are dangerous games you’re playing, Professor,” he warns, trying to sound like his usual self and failing miserably.

“I like taking risks, Lieutenant,” you smirk, tracing circles on his chest with your finger.

He takes your hand off him and steps closer, bridging your gap. Seems like the blood is pumping elsewhere now.

“Fuck, professor,” he murmurs, “I need to go check if they need my help.”

“No,” you command, “what you need to do is stay right here.”

“Like this?” he asks huskily, his breath warm on your forehead.

“Yes, exactly like this.”

But, as he tilts your head towards him and begins to remove his balaclava, the door bursts open, and a blinding light shines in, threatening to expose you.

Your reflexes kick back again. You instinctively push him away and begin screaming, grabbing files from the bookshelf and hurling them at the light source.

“Damn it, Professor!” Ghost yells at you, “You’re hitting the engineers with box files!”

You pause midair and focus on your target; two figures squatted on the ground, their hands protecting their heads.

“Motherf—can’t you knock first?” You yell at them while holding the box file in front of your face. “Should we include basic etiquette in the manual, too?”

They all look at you, puzzled. Unable to comprehend your absurd request, they turn to Ghost.

“Sir, we need help with the generator.” One of them explains, and Ghost nods.

They hand him a flashlight and return to the power junction box, leaving you alone again.

He turns to look at you one last time.

“I’m curious,” he says, leaning in close, “did you plan this all along?”

You raise an eyebrow, acting innocent. “What, the power outage?”

“Are you acting all daft now?” he asks, his eyes forming two thin lines. “The whole screaming and acting vulnerable thing so I could come to your rescue and fall into your trap.”

“Oh, come on, Lieutenant,” you playfully roll your eyes, “don’t pretend like you didn’t want it.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “So you’re okay with staying alone then?”

“Of course I am,” you say seductively, “as long as you come back and let me finish what I started.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost

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robin-evry · 3 months ago

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Is dead yuu right with you?

Tbh, I was a little confused at first because since are you referring to yuu who is similar to a ghost or a zombie or are you referring to yuu who is literally dead.

So I decided to create this, I hope it will satisfy you.

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃!𝐘𝐔𝐔 👻👻

a ghost is the soul or spirit of a dead person or non-human animal that is believed to be able to appear to the living. In ghostlore, descriptions of ghosts vary widely, from an invisible presence to translucent or barely visible wispy shapes to realistic, lifelike forms. The deliberate attempt to contact the spirit of a deceased person is known as necromancy, or in spiritism as a séance. Other terms associated with it are apparition, haunt, haint, phantom, poltergeist, shade, specter, spirit, spook, wraith, demon, and ghoul.

( English is not my first language )

In this scenario, yuu died during the dwarf mine cave arc, they died by having their head being pierced by the pick axe of the monster. After their death was announced Crowley decided to hide the death, because it will stain the reputation of the school and their body was buried in the forest near the cave or was cremated and spread around the forest.

The good thing is that they have returned as a ghost unfortunately because they don't want to leave their friends and grim.

Ghost!Yuu appears ethereal, with a translucent form that resembles how they looked in life, but with a faint, ghostly glow. They still look exactly the same as when they died, but they do have an left open wound from where the pickaxe pierce them in the head.

they can speak, but only in whispers or vague, fragmented sentences. Some students can hear them better than others, while others may not hear them at all.

They have the ability to influence the physical world in small ways—moving objects slightly, chilling a room, or writing messages with frost on windows.

People can still see them but it's very vague the next thing you were walking in the hallway and then ghost!yuu would appear to walk past them. They can disappear or reappear but they can't control this ability.

They cannot appear in photos only if the camera has some magic in it to detect them, or they will appear but it's very vague only showing their outline that they were there.

Whenever their spirit is near, the temperature drops significantly, and lights flicker or dim. Some of the more sensitive students feel chills down their spines or notice frost forming on windows. It’s an eerie reminder that they are always watching, even when they don’t make themselves known.

They tried to communicate with the living by subtly manipulating their surroundings. They write cryptic messages in the frost on mirrors or use objects to draw attention to clues related to the mystery of the mine collapse. Ace and Deuce are the first to notice these signs, though they’re not always sure if it’s truly their or just their imaginations.

Since dead!yuu is not originally from this world making their ghost form more different than the ghost in twst. Their ghost form is more vague and they have limited access to communicate in the physical world unlike the ghost of twst since they can interact normally

They can pass through walls and objects at will, and can turn invisible when they want to avoid detection. However, they struggle to interact with solid objects, meaning they can’t always physically participate in daily tasks. But soon after enough training they will start to get better at interacting in the physical world

They can float or fly short distances, which makes traveling through the school easy. Occasionally, they finds themselves unintentionally teleporting when emotional, appearing in unexpected places without warning.

Though they can’t directly touch most things, they can subtly manipulate their surroundings—flickering lights, cold drafts, or moving small objects with enough focus and they can lower the Temperature of the environment they're in.

They can only speak in whispers or faint echoes, and not everyone can hear them clearly. Over time, they learn to control this, becoming more audible to certain people, especially those attuned to the supernatural.

They attend classes like any other student, though they struggle with certain tasks that require physical interaction. Teachers treat them with a mix of curiosity and respect, often assigning special accommodations so Yuu can participate. For example, in potion-making, they must direct Grim or another classmate to handle the ingredients for them. Over time, they learns to manipulate objects enough to contribute, albeit in unique ways.

Most students are initially wary of them, especially because they are a ghost. Some believe they bring bad luck, while others are fascinated by their presence. However, their personality (whether warm, curious, or mischievous) eventually breaks through these barriers, and they form close friendships with students like Ace, Deuce, and others. They also becomes known for pranking students, using their ghostly abilities to spook the more gullible ones like Epel and Sebek.

Even though their personality stays the same, dead!yuu is slowly suffering from depression, since they died here in twst, they realized that their soul would not come back to their original world or will be able to taste delicious food. Which may cause them to overblot.

attacks or magic cannot literally damage it usually phases thru their body.

During their first encounter malleus was admiring the gargoyles in ramshackle when dead!yuu pop their heads out and introduce themselves.

They also scared idia, they pop out there thru his monitor during an important game and he literally jumps back and faints, this causes the attention of Ortho who rush over his room ready to attack, after some explanation, they introduce each other and they would usually watch idia play his game during their free time.

Their magic allows them to interact with objects and people in a spectral manner. They can move objects without touching them directly, using ghostly energy. For example, they can open doors, pick up light objects, or create gusts of wind by channeling their spectral form. This ability could grow stronger with time, allowing them to manipulate larger or more complex things as they practice.

They can project ghostly energy to create shields or barriers. This magic is translucent, appearing like shimmering mist or ethereal light, and can protect others from harm, though it might be less sturdy than a living person’s magic. Over time, they could develop this magic to create temporary ghostly constructs—like weapons or tools—though these would have a fleeting nature and eventually dissipate.

They could possess objects and, in rare cases, people. When possessing objects, Yuu can animate them for a short period—think of a book flying off a shelf, a pen writing on its own, or even a weapon moving as if it were wielded by an invisible hand. Possessing people, however, is more taxing and would likely only be used in extreme circumstances. When Yuu does possess someone, it’s for brief moments, and they cannot control someone fully; instead, they might influence their movements or speech slightly.

They can fade in and out of sight, turning invisible or making parts of their body intangible. This allows them to pass through walls, avoid physical attacks, or remain unseen when they wish to observe something in secret. However, while invisible, their presence still leaves a chill in the air, and those attuned to magic may still sense them nearby.

They also have the ability to create mini ghosts or hollows that they can manipulate in their will These Hollows can come in different sizes depending on what the user desires The Hollows are able to fly and, being intangible, are immune to physical attacks. These ghosts can work as their eyes and ears around NRC. This ghost could take the form on how they were made, some ghosts were created to explode, work as clones for dead!yuu, can help reganerate magical energy if their friends are running low on magic, This ability is very versatile.

Their magic weakens significantly the further they are from the grounds of Night Raven College. Since their soul is bound to the school, they lose strength if they wander too far from its magical energy, meaning they can only fully access their abilities within the school or areas closely tied to it.

They cannot perform magic that directly manipulates physical matter in the same way living students can. For example, they cannot create fire, water, or other solid elements. Their magic is limited to more spiritual or ghostly effects, like influencing dreams, moving objects, or creating phantom constructs.

Get along with the other ghosts in NRC, they teach them how to interact and maintain their physical form for long as well how to pull pranks and use their ability.

Have a disdain for Crowley for hiding the truth from the world, he will excuse himself saying it jeopardize the school reputation as well saying they should accept being expelled then they shouldn't be in this situation this angered dead!yuu which causes them to make Crowley living days hell, obeject thrown around and other.

The Adeuce as well grim blame themselves for dead!yuu turning into a ghost, even though they said they were fine about it and that it wasn't their fault they still blame themselves for their unfortunate fate.

Grim was the most devastated by their death, and when they comeback as a ghost he refused to believe it and said they were just an illusion, after calming him down and talk to each other grim cried and wanted to embrace them but soon phased thru their body and he become more overprotective over them saying that it won't happen again.

#not canon #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst scenario #disney twst #twisted wonderland yuu au #twst mc #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst yuu au #dead!yuu #ghost!yuu

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marlsswrites · 6 months ago

Text

Summer camp AU, part 21!!

July 21st <3

Core - @jegulus-microfic - words: 881

First part Previous part

Arms swinging at their sides, pale skin reflecting pale skin and dark raven hair twinning as it fell from both of their heads in perfect curls. Yet one reached his shoulders and the other busy below his ears. The sounds of the wind whipping through the trees surrounded them, leaving them in an blissful silence as it felt like the wind was hissing and whispering at them.

It was early morning, Regulus had decided that he wanted to be productive and go for a walk, before he knew it his tired feet seemed to mindlessly carry him to where his brother was staying, his shaky hand knocking on the door then followed by a creak, the open door revealing Sirius, who's face bloomed with a grin as soon as he saw Regulus.

So here they are now, going for a walk and talking as brothers should, because they really need to do that more. The love between the two Blacks was almost invisible to the naked eye, but Regulus could see it, so could his brother. They both loved hard and soft, in their own ways yet still so caring.

The only other difference between them now was the younger boys scowl and the older boys wary smile as he was clearly waiting to say something that was sure to draw some sort of negative reaction from Regulus.

"Reggie?" His brother asked hesitantly as they nearly came to a stop outside Regulus' cabin, which was out of sight but still only a few doors down.

"Yes, Sirius?" A response came with a sigh. "Spit it out."

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" He asked, his voice raising an octave.

"You clearly want to say something." He snapped, soon after realising he may have started being a bit too harsh, so his offered the best smile that he could muster - it wasn't a very wide or cheerful one, but it was there.

Sirius' face relaxed slightly, but it still held an unsettling tensity to it that urged Regulus to chew on his nails and nervously bite the skin of his glossy lips. See, he never knew what to expect from Sirius when they spoke, normally they avoided the harsh topics but that was a difficult thing to manage judging on their childhood. But there is one thing that Regulus can think happened, the one thing Sirius interrupted. He's been avoiding his brother ever since, praying he'd just forget or leave it alone, but clearly not. He still doesn't quite know what happened himself, how is he expected to explain it to Sirius?

They continued to walk, Sirius releasing what he had to say in one breath before pursing his lips and looking directly into Regulus' guilt filled eyes. "What happened at the movie night?"

"We watched movies." He replied bluntly

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Regulus avoided the question, as that was his only current solution, he didn't want to talk about it, not now, not ever. Especially not with Sirius out of all people.

The older flicked him on the arm, groaning and giving him an eyebrow raise to face Regulus' faux innocent face and his wide eyes as he yelped at the feeling of Sirius' nail hitting his arm with a sting. "Regulus!"

He only hummed in response, gaze sticking to the floor as they rounded the corner and made their way to Regulus' and James' shared cabin.

"I love you to the fucking core of my heart." Sirius started, Regulus scrunching his nose up at the affection but forcing himself to look up at his brother. "But you are so stubborn!"

"I'm not!"

"Fine." Sirius huffed. "Do you like him?"

They walked through the door into the cabin, Sirius still tailing onto him like a dog following it's beloved, fast paced owner, as he kicked his shoes off and instantly sat himself - actually no, launched himself - onto Regulus' once neatly made, uncreased, bed.

Music echoed from the bathroom, loud Arctic Monkeys songs blasted through the door as he could hear the low raspy humming of James as the water poured from the shower and hit the floor, Regulus taking in every single sound as the sound of his brothers horrific singing came into his ears.

"I'm not answering that." Regulus finally replied.

"Regulus, do you like him-"

Seconds later, neither boys seemed to have noticed the lack of the sound of water and booming music coming from the bathroom. The door opened to let heaps of hot, sticky, steam out and James walked out.

The towel was tied sinfully low around his pointed waist, his hip bones stuck out and formed a lovely looking v shape that Regulus wanted to trace with his hands and admire it in all of its beauty. His tan skin had gotten darker during the summer, but with the water dripping from his torso it reflected the bright light that hung over Regulus' head. The smattering of hair ran under his towel made Regulus feel dizzy, the smile on his face when he saw Regulus standing there, hands on his hips and jaw lightly slack as he tried to push some words out of his mouth, made Regulus want to crumble to the wet wooden floor at his feet.

"Never mind." A cough came from the side of him as Sirius narrowed his eyes. "That answers my question." He sighed.

Next part

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awkward-walking-potato · 4 months ago

Note

Ahhh hello! I saw you mention Kurt and immediately came to the ask box LMAO I love him so much😭

Anywasy, imagine if he met a reader who also has a physical mutation (I always imagine her having like a chameleon mutation so she has the hands of a chameleon etc.) and they both bond and get super close because they both know what it’s like to be judged for their physical mutations 😭

Anyways I just love the thought of them feeling less alone cus they have each other

Have a good day❤️

Shades of Us

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Inside, the common room was buzzing with the usual evening activities. Kurt Wagner, also known as Nightcrawler, was sitting quietly in one corner, his tail wrapped around his legs as he read a book. His golden eyes flicked up periodically, watching the students and teachers move about with an ease he admired but sometimes felt distant from.

In the midst of this bustling environment, a new student had recently arrived—someone with a chameleon-like mutation. Your arrival had been met with a mix of curiosity and hesitation from the other students. Your hands, covered in delicate, scale-like patterns, were an unusual sight, and your ability to blend seamlessly with your surroundings made you both fascinating and enigmatic. Despite your unique traits, you kept to yourself, finding solace in the quieter parts of the mansion.

Kurt had noticed you from the start. Your subtle movements, the way you shifted colors to blend into the background, and your quiet demeanor piqued his interest. He had seen how the other students occasionally looked at you, some with curiosity, others with barely concealed judgment. It was a look he knew all too well.

One evening, as he was making his way through the mansion’s halls, he saw you sitting alone in a sunlit alcove, sketching in a notebook. Your fingers, with their chameleon-like grip, moved delicately across the page. The sight tugged at something in Kurt’s heart, and he decided to approach you.

“Guten Abend,” Kurt said softly as he approached, his tail swaying slightly. He didn’t want to startle you. “May I join you?”

You looked up from your sketchbook, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. You nodded, motioning to the empty space next to you. “Of course.”

Kurt took a seat beside you, his tail wrapping around his legs as he settled in. He glanced at the sketches on your notebook, admiring the intricate details and vibrant colors. “These are beautiful,” he remarked sincerely. “You have a real talent for capturing the world.”

You smiled shyly, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. “Thank you. I just like to draw the things I see around me. It helps me feel less… invisible.”

Kurt nodded, understanding more than you might have realized. “I know that feeling well,” he admitted quietly. “Sometimes, it feels like people only see the surface, not what’s underneath. It’s like being judged for something you can’t change.”

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, you saw a reflection of your own struggles in his eyes. “Exactly. It’s comforting to meet someone who understands.”

Kurt’s golden eyes softened, and he reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I understand more than you know. We’re both used to being seen as different. But here, we don’t have to hide who we are.”

The sincerity in his voice was comforting, and it made you feel a bit braver. “It’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t judge,” you said softly. “Someone who sees the real me.”

Kurt’s smile grew, and he leaned in slightly. “And I see someone who is incredibly special. Your abilities, your art—they’re all part of what makes you unique and wonderful.”

The warmth of his words, coupled with the kindness in his eyes, made you feel a sense of belonging you hadn’t felt before. “Thank you, Kurt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the evening wore on, you and Kurt began to share more about yourselves—your past experiences, your dreams, and the small things that made you who you were. The conversation flowed easily, a natural connection forming between you as you both found solace in each other’s company.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to your powers. Kurt was fascinated by the way you could blend into your surroundings, your skin changing colors seamlessly. “It’s like you’re a part of the environment,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “It’s something I can’t do, but I find it amazing.”

You laughed softly, a genuine, relaxed sound. “It’s not always as great as it seems. It’s easy to disappear, but sometimes I just want to be seen for who I am, not just what I can do.”

Kurt nodded in understanding. “I feel the same way. My appearance can be… jarring to some. But here, with you, I don’t have to worry about that. We can just be ourselves.”

The night grew darker, and the two of you eventually decided to take a walk outside. As you strolled through the garden, Kurt’s tail gently wrapped around your waist, his touch light but reassuring. It was a gesture of affection and solidarity, a way of saying, “You’re not alone.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the tenderness of his touch. “Kurt, you don’t have to…”

He smiled down at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “I want to. It feels right. And besides, it’s nice to have someone to share this with.”

As you walked together, the world seemed a little less daunting. The shadows of the evening wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly seen and appreciated.

The connection between you and Kurt grew stronger with each passing moment. In each other, you found not only understanding and acceptance but a deep and genuine bond. You both knew that the world could be harsh, but in each other’s company, you found a sanctuary—a place where you could be your true selves, without fear or judgment.

And as the night deepened, you both embraced the comfort of the other, knowing that, together, you were no longer alone in a world that often felt indifferent.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #kurt wagner oneshot #kurt wagner imagine #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler one shot #nightcrawler imagine #nightcrawler

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la-petite-lapin · 5 months ago

Text

Double the Love | Part Eleven*

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.6k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, unprotected PinV, fingering, praise, size difference, biting, marking, Tali being a tease, Johnny's dirty talk

Johnny passes his fitness test

"So, how's the apartment hunting going?" Winnie asks, her upper body in the frame of our FaceTime call. She looks even tanner than usual, practically glowing as she beams at me.

She hasn't got long left to go on her work trip now and - after a particularly promising flat viewing last week - me and the boys might not be living in our apartment for much longer. We've finally found a place that works for all of us - the perfect mix of homey and industrial, with two bathrooms, a huge master bedroom with a walk-in closet, and a decent-sized spare room. And - as an added bonus - it's only a twenty-minute walk from here.

I gush to her about the place; about the giant, warehouse-style windows in the open-plan living room, and my interior design ideas. She listens eagerly, her smile only growing brighter and brighter until I stop and ask, "What?"

There's a pause as she shifts, getting comfortable on her hotel bed in Paris. Braids falling over one shoulder, her dark, wise eyes find mine through the screen, twinkling with an amused light. "You seem genuinely happy, Tali. It suits you." She tilts her head slightly, adding, "When I get home, we all need to go out for dinner and drinks. I get the feeling I should start getting used to these guys being around."

I laugh at that. "I think you should too. They aren't going anywhere any time soon."

We talk a bit more - exchanging I miss you's and stories about some of the other things that we've been up to in the past week - before I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing with a soft thud. The "honey, I'm home!" that follows is enough to tell me that Johnny is back in the building.

"I'll call you in the morning, yeah?" I say, heat flooding the tips of my ears as I flash Winnie a bashful smile.

She grins back. "Sure thing. Goodnight, babe."

The call is barely over before Johnny comes crashing into the bedroom, a huge smile on his face. "Simon called. He's gonnae pick up take-out from that little Italian place you like on his way home."

I switch my phone screen off and let it fall on top of the sheets beside me. Twisting so that I'm laying on my back, propped up on my elbows with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed, I catch onto what he hasn't mentioned.

Simon had to go into one of their offices today for a meeting with John, Gaz, and their colleague Kate; something that he couldn't avoid no matter how much he wanted to. It's looking more and more likely that they're going to have to go on another mission soon. And Johnny - well, Johnny had a doctor's appointment to assess his recovery.

To assess whether or not he was deemed fit enough to go along with them.

I hum, feigning nonchalance for a second before asking, "How did the appointment go?"

Just like that, the care-free smile on Johnny's face fades. He clears his throat, shifting his weight between his feet like a child afraid of getting a telling off. There's no hint of an injury in his stance now - not like there was when he first moved in. He doesn't favour one side anymore; doesn't have any trouble standing up, or lying down, or reaching for things.

He's better. He's healed.

And it's good news.

Or at least it should be.

"I, er- well, Doc reckons 'm good to go back to active duty," he says with a grimace. One hand reaches for the nape of his neck, tugging at the longer strands of his mohawk. He's self-soothing, and there's nothing I want more than to comfort him, but I let him finish. "Was gonnae tell you and Si tonight over dinner. Didn't wanna ruin a good day."

An invisible hand reaches through my ribs, fingers curling around my heart and squeezing like a vice. Panic, fear, worry; the emotions whirl through me like a storm gale, threatening to sweep me away with their intensity.

Instead of letting myself feel it, I swallow it down.

Pursing my lips, I meet Johnny's baby blue gaze. "It's okay. It'll all be okay."

He sits down beside me with a heavy thump, gaze trained on the wall in front of us. Refusing to hold my gaze, he sighs deeply. "Tali, nothin' about this is okay. This wasn't meant t' happen until we got the new place sorted out. Now... 'ah could be called away at a moment's notice. Simon too. Wouldn't have a say in the matter. Ye would be alone for God knows how long, waitin' for us without word. Worried sick.

"Ye don't know what it's like. I've been though this with Si before - it's not fun, lassie. It's gonnae hurt."

I sit upright, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed until I'm sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him. I wrap an arm around his side, leaning into his warmth.

His body is tense to the touch, but his soft t-shirt smells like his aftershave - clean and familiar. Like home.

I press a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade, my words muffled against the fabric and muscle as I speak. "We'll get through this, Johnny. It'll be okay."

Some of the tension leaves at that, his considerable frame sagging further against me. With a shaky exhale, I almost miss the whispered, "'ah don't wanna leave ye, Tali," that follows.

My heart breaks for him.

The only thing that I can think to say is, "I know."

Neither of us speak for a while after that. I just hold him while he stares off into space, gaze trained simultaneously on the wall and some far-away place that neither of us can see. And it's all I can do not to burst into tears myself.

Before long, Johnny pulls me into his lap, burying his face into my hair and nuzzling his nose against the side of my neck. It takes me a second to register the soft, lazy kisses that he's pressing there - trailing up my jaw and behind my ear.

"Johnny," I mumble, tilting my head to give him access to the delicate, sensitive skin there.

He grunts in acknowledgment.

I repeat his name, firmer this time. It takes him a moment, but he draws back enough for me to look at his face. With one hand on his broad chest, I say, "Are you sure you want to do this right now?"

Johnny grins lazily, the picture of care-free ease despite the tense line of his jaw. "Lassie, there's nothin' else ah'd rather be doing right now."

I lift a hand to cradle his cheek, relishing the rough bite of his stubble against my palm as he melts into my touch. The trust and affection lurking in his gaze is enough to choke me up; to bring a rush of answering emotion inside of me. Pressing my forehead to his, I stare into his eyes, palm trailing down the side of his throat to rest atop his broad shoulder.

"Johnny... I know it's soon but-"

He cuts me off by tangling a hand in my hair, pulling my lips down to meet his. I sink my teeth into the bottom one, pulling a deep, throaty chuckle from him.

"Ay, vicious little thing!" Johnny's hand comes down against my backside in a playful smack, the flat of his hand immediately soothing the sting with a gentle caress of his calloused palm. "Tha's my lassie."

I bite back a whine, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I shift myself until I'm straddling his lap, thighs bracketing his. His eyes darken as I get comfortable, purposefully rubbing against him as much as possible. I can feel the considerable length of him straining against the fabric of his gym shorts, the short skirt of my sundress doing little to shield me from the fact.

"Johnny?" I gasp, wide-eyed with feigned innocence.

Through gritted teeth, he growls, "Aye."

Leaning close, I press an open-mouthed kiss to his temple. "I'm not wearing any underwear."

If I wasn't turned on before, the look of pure, raw heat on his face takes me the rest of the way. With a sound verging on animalistic, Johnny flips us so that I'm on my back, his weight resting on the mattress between my spread thighs as he towers over me, caging me beneath him. It's far from menacing though; sending a thrill of anticipation through me.

Those blue eyes of his glitter with the thrill of the chase, gaze never leaving mine as one hand shifts to paw at the hem of my dress. With a slight dip of my head, his eyes drift south, fingers tugging the skirt up until its bunched up around my waist. His fingers trail back down the bare skin, goosebumps rising in their wake.

Pressing a trail of sloppy kisses to my neck, he licks over the hollow at the base of my throat. His mouth distracts me while his index finger circles my clit. He does it once, then twice, before finally skimming down to where I really need them. A rumbling sound leaves his chest when he finds just how wet I am for him.

He eases his fingers out of me with a mumbled praise.

"Don't be mean," I whine, arching my hips up towards him. "Just make me feel good."

Johnny scoffs something that sounds remarkably like "pillow princess" before pulling away. My gaze follows him as he frantically tugs down his gym shorts and boxers, his thick cock springing up - ready and waiting.

I don't laugh at the tattoo this time, instead running my thumb over it.

Practically purring, Johnny's hand wraps around my wrist, guiding his hand down to touch him. My fingers close around his length, relishing in the hiss that leaves his lips. His eyes find mine once again as he whimpers, "See, Tali. All of this is for you. Feel how fuckin' hard ye make me."

He thrusts into my hand to punctuate his point.

A breathy moan wrestles free from my throat. "Johnny- Johnny, I need you."

The strong column of his throat works as he swallows, seemingly nodding to himself before easing back down on top of me. Lining up, he places his free hand beside my head, balancing his weight as he notches himself at my entrance.

I savour the slow, delicious drag as he pushes into me, muttering soft praises under his breath as his face drops down beside mine. His dark hair tickles my cheek as he flexes his hips, slowly easing out before pushing himself in to the hilt. The movement punches the air out of my lungs in a sharp gasp.

"'ah loved watching Si eat you out," Johnny growls, low and guttural as he eases out again before slamming home. It suddenly occurs to me that he's no novice at dirty talk. In fact, he excels at it. "Loved watching you watch us." He twists his hips without warning, hitting a spot deep inside of me that sends me reeling - seeing stars as my eyes roll back. "But nothin' compares to being right here."

I cling to him like he's a lifeline, clawing at the tanned skin of his broad back and lifting my legs to wrap them around his tapered waist. I pull him close, gathering him to me as he picks up the pace like it's a challenge, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

Barrelling towards a release, I nuzzle my nose into his skin - inhaling the scent of his aftershave mixed with a hint of sweat - and bite down. Hard.

As I come, vaguely aware of the coppery taste now coating my tongue, Johnny roars. His hips stutter, a flood of warmth filling me as he finds his own high. I lose all sense of myself, vaguely aware of his weight pressing me into the mattress; muttered praises and apologies for not lasting very long.

Basking in the afterglow, he collapses on top of me, neither of us willing or able to move for a few long moments.

"That was... wow," Johnny says eventually, breathless and sweating.

"Intense?" I supply, still clinging to him like a koala bear. Banding his arms around me, he rolls us until he's on his back, my weight settling on top of him. He still hasn't pulled out - letting me enjoy the moment just a little while longer.

I have to remind myself that Simon will be home any minute now with dinner; stopping myself from getting amped up for round two.

Surrounded by him, I run my fingertips along the ridge of his shoulder, provoking the shiver that I was looking for with ease. But the smile on my face cracks as soon as I draw my hand back.

My fingertips are smeared with red.

I jerk upright, Johnny's softening cock slipping out with a wince from him. The post-orgasm haze leaves me just as abruptly as I lean over him, inspecting the damage. Sure enough, there are two rows of shallow teeth indents in the tanned skin of his shoulder, deep enough to draw a steady trickle of blood.

I pull back, grimacing.

"Ay, none of that!" Johnny declares, eyes glittering once again. "Did something for me, tha' did." Heat floods my cheeks as a roguish grin forms on his full lips. "Think we might need to tell Si about that little trick."

My eyes trail down, focusing on the tattoo along his V-line as I straddle his tapered hips. He returns the favour, stroking a bare sliver of skin along my own hip. With a contemplative hum, he suggests, "Ye should get a tattoo there. Ours."

It takes all my strength not to grind down against the bare length of him here and now. The primal urge to take and claim ghosts over me; the urge to have their handwriting marked permanently on such an intimate part of my body.

"Now that's an idea." I lean down to press a kiss to his lips. "In your handwriting?"

A devilish glint sparks up in his eyes, but he bites back on it, tapping me once on the thigh. "We should get cleaned up before Si gets home. Come on, little menace: shower."

An hour later, the three of us are lounging in the living room, eating Italian out of the cardboard box-trays that it was packed in. The results of Johnny's fitness test and doctor's exam were the first thing Simon asked about upon his return - his reaction something between disappointment and bitter acceptance - followed shortly by quizzing Johnny about the fresh bite mark on his shoulder. He'd only had to glance at me - guilty, dishevelled, and shifting my thighs in an attempt to ease the hollow ache between my legs - before his eyes darkened with lustful understanding.

I let myself fade into the background, listening to the quiet noise of the TV and the boys trading bits of work gossip - mentioning names of people I've never met and scandalous titbits I've never heard before.

Until something snags my attention.

"Kate said we have to go, Si," Johnny says sullenly. "'s not like it's waterboarding or anything. It's a fuckin' military ball for Christ's sake!"

Simon grumbles something under his breath, a string of curses punctuated by the odd coherent word. It ends in, "being paraded about like a fuckin' show pony."

"Surely it's not that bad," I say incredulously. A catered party with booze, decent food, and dancing - it sounds quite fun. I think Alex mentioned one once, back in his early days as an Officer.

Johnny beams. "See! Tali gets it. We should all go. Price and Gaz are going - we could make a night out of it."

Something sours in Simon's expression. "Hm, and how would that work out exactly? Who gets to go with Tali?"

I can't help but frown. He's right; I can only formally attend with one of them, especially around their colleagues and higher-ups. How else would we explain what's going on between the three of us? Hell, Johnny and Si aren't even out at work.

"We'll think of something," Johnny says, ever the optimist. "Besides, 's not for a few weeks yet. Think that new op'll happen first."

Simon grunts, finishing off the last few bites of his linguine. "Speaking of, I'm gonna reach out to that guy about the flat tomorrow. See if we can close on it as soon as possible." Hazel eyes meet mine. "Provided that's still what you want, love?"

I flash him a sweet grin. "Of course it is."

a/n: it took time, but we did it! hope you liked part 11. what do you want next, part 12 of this, part 2 of Unlikely Friendships or... something new? :) - lapetitelapin <3

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yurislotusgarden · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there! Can I please request (separate) Fyodor, Nikolai, and Sigma with a reader who has a teleportation ability and loves to use it to tickle/tease them? There's no way you're sneaking up on Fyodor or Nikolai unless you have a teleportation ability, let's be honest XD. The kicker is that reader can just teleport away before the characters can get revenge and that makes for some very funny scenarios. Feel free to decline, I know my request is a tad strange XD

ʚїɞ Separately! Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma x Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ I literally struggled on 2 out of 6 scenarios sm for some reason help, and dw this was fun to write anon!

ʚїɞ word count: 2 136

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ཐིཋྀ Anon you’re so right, you can’t sneak up on this man unless you have a teleportation ability. Like even invisibility or similar wouldn’t probably work, but teleportation? Hell yeah.

ཐིཋྀ I think there would be a little bet on your side, how many times can you actually surprise him? You succeed far more than you first thought.

////////////////////

Computer light falling onto a silhouette could be seen upon looking into the room, Fyodor Dostoevsky was sitting in front of the many screens, planning his ever-so-successful plan to get rid of ability users. Not moving much for some time, one could mistake him for a statue instead, that's until he slightly jumped from feeling fingers moving along his sides.

Quiet giggling was all he heard when turning around, trying to catch the figure behind him, but unsuccessful upon the person disappearing before the dark-haired man could even touch them.

Fyodor’s ever so lovely s/o, you, have always loved doing little tricks to see just how much can you be unpredictable, even to this man ever since you noticed he doesn’t mind them… that much, at least.

////////////////

ཐིཋྀ This man, let me tell you, this man, is not safe ANYWHERE.

ཐིཋྀ Office? “Oh? You’re ticklish Fedya? Nice to know”

ཐིཋྀ Hallways? Something as little as even a touch on the shoulder and getting out of there before he even manages to turn around.

ཐིཋྀ The house? U n l i m i t e d p o s s i b i l i t i e s.

ཐིཋྀ No matter what he does, our dear Fedya is never safe from little pranks and tricks for your entertainment, shits and giggles.

///////////////////////

Listen, Fyodor really doesn’t mind you having fun with your ability here and there, but is it really too much to ask to organize things in peace? In your book, it seems it is.

Fyodor has some things written down on paper, and only one copy, as he believes it’s better to not keep some things on his computer. As much as it is un-hackable, his words he wants to be safe just in case. Better be safe than sorry, but it would be so much faster and easier to organize if papers didn’t change their place the moment his eyes were even slightly averted from them, if folders didn’t change their places, or more, if you didn’t mess with his stuff.

The rat placed the paper on the table and turned away to get a folder? A little quiet sound could be heard behind him. Turning around, the paper is gone as if it wasn’t there in the first place and is on the other side of the room. He turns back around to get the folder, but now that is gone too and is under a table.

Whether it’s papers that are moved around. From changing tables to even being moved to different folders, to folders that were perfectly organized in alphabetical order being all messed up. Every time he turns away, you would teleport in, take a folder out of the shelf, and teleport away. After a moment you would teleport back into a random ass place and place it there. The worst is that you do it not only when he organizes stuff, but also randomly on days he doesn't.

Really, the organizing would be so much faster if he had peace… sad that he doesn’t.

////////////////////

“You gotta stop doing all that Myshka.”

“Stop what?”

“All those little jokes of yours. It’s irritating.”

“It’s irritating but you still smile at them?”

“...”

“What? You think I don’t know that you smile after I’m out of the room?”

“...”

“Why are you not saying anything? It’s scary-”

“About that thing you mentioned you wanted to try in be-”

“ALRIGHT! How about I make your favorite tonight? I didn’t make it for so long!”

“We had it last week, dorogaya*”

“Yeah… so long”

—--------------

You didn’t stop your antics at all in the end, and no matter how much Fyodor complains, he hopes you will never stop <3

ཐིཋྀ Yall have a literal competition

ཐིཋྀ Who's gonna surprise who more? Good question-

ཐིཋྀ You can be in the city buying things for yourself, feel a tug on your hair, and turning around you just see a glimpse of Nikolai’s portal.

ཐིཋྀ In turn, he may be doing his braid in the morning and feel a tug on the back of HIS hair, and only then noticing your already disappearing figure in the mirror behind him, not giving him a chance to even turn around😭

//////////////////////////

Morning sun rays fell upon the figure sitting in front of the mirror in the room. Nikolai was sitting quietly, still half asleep as it was around 7 am and he woke up not too long ago. The white-haired man was making his braid with closed eyes, the hand manner practically natural by now, in the quiet room.

That was before he felt a slight tug on the back of his head, He opened his eyes in a fast movement, managing to catch only one thing in the mirror reflection behind him, the gentle light that comes with his s/o, you, using their ability.

A quiet sigh from the man could be heard in the room, a gentle smile on his face that he couldn’t stop from appearing.

“You just couldn’t stop yourself from doing that, huh, Dove?” Nikolai spoke knowing you were still in the room, as well as he noticed that he had to redo most of the braid he had done till now.

“It’s revenge for what you did last week, Kolya”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”

“Hmm… I also don’t know what I’m talking about when I say I won’t be baking the cookies you wanted”

“Wait!-”

That certainly woke him up.

///////////////////////////

ཐིཋྀ Others are so done with yall I swear

ཐིཋྀ There’s no shame, you guys do it to each other in public all the time, not only in private. You once decided it was a good idea to scare him on a meeting with Sigma… it ended with you scaring them both

ཐིཋྀ You apologized, only to Sigma though

ཐིཋྀ He, in turn, scared you while you were out with a friend people stared at you two like you had 2 heads after screaming in the middle of the sidewalk for seemingly no reason

ཐིཋྀ He did not apologize to either of you

ཐིཋྀ So yeah, you both are not safe from the other absolutely anywhere or with anyone even in the bathroom

//////////////////////////////////////

You and Nikolai were visiting Sigma at the Sky Casino, although you disappeared around half an hour after the two of you got there. To where? A good question that the white head doesn't have an answer to.

"I'm telling you no is my answer."

"But are you sure it's your final answer?"

"Yes.. or wait-"

Good ol' doubt in an answer for Nikolai's quiz. He just needs to wait till Sigma says the wrong answer and he will be able to-

THUD

Whirling around or looking ahead, depending on the male, both noticed a book on the ground, a piece of literature the bi-colored-haired Man could swear he didn't have in his office.

Sigma stood up and slowly walked over to the book on the ground, he bent down to pick it up. Just as he straightened up, a sound of something hitting the floor sounded throughout the office. Looking back at the desk behind the males, a folder the younger of the two was working on beforehand, was lying on the floor.

“Is all the stuff in my office gonna be falling down or appearing out of thin air now?”

Just as Sigma spoke, the sound of something heavier, like the book from earlier, flew across the office, and then a sigh was heard right after.

“I think so, dear friend!”

Nikolai was acting cocky for the next few minutes as things would fall or appear out of nowhere, thinking that you are playing with only Sigma for fun. He realized it was you when the folder fell off the desk, but what he didn’t realize, was that he wasn’t safe at all.

He should’ve remembered that you absolutely love to play around with him by doing something to his hair, so he should’ve expected the tug on his hair from the back or the feeling of his hat gone from his head that came next.

And he couldn’t do anything even if he whirled around immediately, as your figure disappeared in gentle light just as he did so.

“Goddammit.”

“Told you to look around.”

“But Sigma!!! I thought-”

—--------------

If he could change one thing about your guys' games, it would be that damn hair part. Never understood why you love it so much, but at the same time, he didn’t protest against it on a serious note before.

ཐིཋྀ The poor guy-

ཐིཋྀ He’s just trying to work but you mess up his paperwork😭

ཐིཋྀ Like, he goes out of the office for a little to take a look around the casino but then comes back to the chaos that is his desk after

///////////////

The bi-hair-colored man entered his office quietly. It was quite dark, as the sun already started to set some time ago. He wondered what you, his lovely s/o, were doing at the moment as you insisted on staying in the main room earlier during your small talk with Sigma after spotting him walking around.

Upon laying his eyes on his desk once he got close enough, Sigma noticed that some things were moved around. The paper that he was writing on before got moved up by 8 centimeters, exactly 2 papers from the right got moved to the far left of the desk, in exchange, 3 papers from the left got moved to the place the 2 papers from the right were in before, he also had 3 files on his desk before, but now there was 5, and none of them being the 2 that were there before.

The reason behind that wasn’t hard to guess.

“You still here, dear?”

But it also wasn’t hard to guess that you stayed close by.

“Of course!” The response came with you appearing behind him, and together with a light tickling feeling on his neck.

…He had to start his work all over again.

…At least you brought cookies though.

//////////////

ཐིཋྀ You don’t surprise him TOO much, due to you wanting to let him work, however, that doesn't mean that you scaring him isn't a regular occurrence.

ཐིཋྀ Just got done talking with someone and had plans to go back to the office? You’re standing right behind him, causing him to jump.

ཐིཋྀ That one file he thought he lost? You coincidentally know where it is completely not where it’s supposed to be

ཐིཋྀ He woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom? What the fuck is that shadow in the corner on the way back? it’s you who woke up

ཐིཋྀ You scare the workers of the casino as well by accident most of the time😭

/////////////

He was just trying to comb his hair, but no, of course, his comb was not where it was meant to be, and of course, the spare one was missing as well.

His stuff had been going missing before being found in the most random places possible. Sigma didn’t want to assume his beloved was at fault, but at the same time, this was happening way too much lately.

His heels? Moved from the hallway to the kitchen.

The glass of water he left on the counter? Found in his office, once he got there.

Once, all of his hairbands went missing, and he found every single one of them placed around in books, folders, cabinets, and even under papers he left on his desk.

The bi-colored-haired man decided to speak up with a slightly louder tone, in case you were somewhere in a farther corner of the apartment.

“[Name]?”

“Yes, cotton?”

He decided to ignore that he jumped a little at your surprise entrance behind him. Should’ve expected you wouldn’t use the door.

“Do you know where my comb is?”

A hum came from you. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Can’t find it. Thought you would know.”

“Going into assuming right away, aren’t we?”

It’s not that the man doesn’t trust you, but you’ve done little tricks like this so many times that no one could blame him if they tried. The teasing tone in your voice didn't help the situation.

“Can you blame me?”

“...No.”

“...You have it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

/////////////////

Sigma doesn’t mind, it’s a part of your personality, but he would really appreciate if you stopped moving his stuff around. That would certainly help.

Notes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated

* 'Dorogaya' means love/sweetheart in Russian if the translator I used didn't fail me ;-;

#bsd x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bsd sigma #sigma bungou stray dogs #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #fluff

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tezzbot · 10 months ago

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Okay.. so... fairly long post under the cut with the sort of background to my Sonic Underground AU!! If anyone's interested fjdgv I have thought about it a Lot lol

So basically, The background is that Eggman has definitely been up to shit since before Sonic was born lol and one of his sort of things when he I guess started out in villainy ? was he started trying to claim land and take over so that he could build his cities and theme parks and factories and what have you and rule over everything. So, after claiming some untouched land he started attacking “Mobian'' settlements, (not sure whether to stick with Mobian or what but the word gets my point across so I’m using it now sfgdh) and I guess started working his way up until he found Christmas Island, which is the small Kingdom Aleena ruled over at the time. This caused the Kingdom to fight back and started a war with Robotnik. However. Obviously the warzone was no place to be raising the Very recently born heirs to the throne (the three who would grow up to be Sonia Sonic and Manic, they might’ve had different names back then lol) and so Aleena with a Very heavy heart sent the three Far away, they had them sent to a dinky little orphanage in a fairly distant zone, intending to pick them back up when the war was over.

Unfortunately, Very early on in the triplet’s stay at the orphanage, when they were still practically babies, an unfortunate cot placement led to Manic being kidnapped sometime in the dead of night (don’t ask why they did it I just think it’s funny love and light). He was taken to a nearby city, and somehow managed to endear himself to Ferral, the leader of one of the larger sort of crime rings active there. This is where he learned to get by and live and thrive, little crime family they love each other and rag on each other so much smile smile smile.

Sonic stayed in the orphanage a lot longer than Manic, but doesn’t really remember his time there all that much. As soon as Sonic figured out how to, he ran. Ran as fast and as far as he was able. Ran until he had no idea how to get back. But he'd not a guilt on his conscience. He was free, for the first time felt truly free. He learned how to survive on his own and met a little two tailed fox cub and his life played out pretty much exactly the same as it does in the main line continuity :)

Sonia is the only one of the three who has any memory of staying in the orphanage and was the only one to leave there by regular means dgfhfg. At about five years old, she was one of a few girls from across the continent to be chosen to attend and live at an all girls school where they would grow into proper ladies™, being taught etiquette and manners and so on. She managed a fairly cushy lifestyle here but was never truly happy there. She obviously has her besties like Mindy, but it always felt far too restrictive and (figuratively) cold. So while she does do well there, she is slightly prone to getting in trouble and feels kind of belittled and invisible among her peers at times

So in the triplet’s maybe 3rd year? The war on Christmas Island ended and the Mobians were unfortunately forced to go into hiding. Aleena made it out and went into her own hiding in the form of laying low in a residential area in a nearby city, and attempted to blend in there for a few years before making the trip to finally reunite with her children. Unfortunately by the time she gets there, all three are gone :( Even though the orphanage may know where Sonia is, she feels as though she has failed all three as their mother and wouldn't be able to face any of them (despite the fact they're like. 6 year olds lol), and so retreats back to her city home.

Until, over a decade later, Aleena sees the world renowned hero Sonic the Hedgehog that she hears so much about, (maybe he’s just saved that part of the city from a badnik attack or something like that) and there is just… something about him that is so uncannily like her Bernie… His heroism and humility right down to his mannerisms, the being blue also adds to the effect. And… Aleena is not one to get her hopes up, but the chance of this being one of her missing children after all these years…

Then I’m thinking maybe, she is wearing the equivalent of the three medallions and, maybe as she gets closer to Sonic one of them has some sort of magical reaction ? or something I’m not actually sure. But something DOES confirm to Aleena that This is one of her kids oh my god!! And he’s just like his (other) mother… Aleena gets overwhelmed and ends up not talking to him. Sonic maybe notices someone in a long flowy jacket running away from the crowd, but gets distracted by the many other thankful citizens around him to really take note of it lol

This is when Aleena writes her letter to Sonic. She looks him up, tries very hard to find out where he lives. Ultimately coming up with nothing she’s like IS MY BOY HOMELESS?? But then what comes up eventually is a plethora of small garages and laboratories under the name Dr. Miles Prower and is like Oh! An apprentice maybe :) lol and so she rolls the dice and chooses one of those locations at random and hopes her message gets to him soon.

This is just the leadup to what would be the "main plot" of the AU and I do have more for it!! So if this like. Text based way of explaining my ideas is alright I can share more from the google doc if ppl are interested!! And maybe I'll doodle some stuff for it here n there who know (seems likely tho lol)

#sth #sonic underground au #sonic underground

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camcanime · 1 year ago

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I had the craziest angst dream last night

It was based on an RP my bestie and I had been working on but, man, my brain knows how to toy with my feelings. Words cannot express how I felt after having this dream, my heart was racing. (Will do this in the form of x reader coz damn)

That day was a tragedy, a devastation to yourself and everyone who knew you. No one could have foreseen such a thing and, yet, a heavy blame was taken upon the two men who had cared for you most. You were all fresh into beginning your careers as heroes, barely a year out of graduation, and it didn't last long for you. Somehow, a group of especially dangerous villains had managed to get the jump on you. They beat you to a pulp and took you into capture, falling out of the radar and becoming completely invisible to anyone who may have had a chance to save you.

You were held in captivity for almost two years. Two years. They tormented and verbally degraded you to no end. To say it was torture was an understatement. You may as well have been crucified and left to hang amongst the vultures awaiting the sweet, bitter end to life. Unfortunately, these monsters were not merciful creatures. At first, they attempted to coax information out of you, seeing if they could unlock all of the inner workings of the pro heroes and utilise this for their nefarious deeds. When it became clear that you weren't so easily broken, they decided that you would make a decent venting dolly. You sought to escape once.

"That was a big mistake... hero."

Due to your weakened state, they quite easily recaptured you and they were not happy. They could have just killed you. Part of you wishes they did. No. Instead, they opted for a more fitting punishment: they took away your quirk. More ridicule and abuse is all that followed, is all you had to keep your wavering sanity occupied.

You felt close to your end.

An eventual rescue tore you away from your imprisonment but at what cost? You couldn't even discern the reality from a nightmare at that point. Your saviours, some heroes on the other side of the country, made sure that you were immediately admitted to a hospital. The physical wounds were in need of major attention but the mental scars ran so much deeper.

It probably would have been easy enough to call all of your friends, to ask for help from a familiar face, but a chain would heavy your hand any time you'd reach for the phone. You couldn't even bring yourself to call your two favourite boys.

With months of gruelling therapy out of the way, you now have a home - a new home - that you can call yours and a typical civilian job to keep the money coming in. You may be somewhat established back into society but you are merely a shell of what once was, a sauntering after image of the person you used to be. It had taken countless sessions just to counter your agoraphobia but a slithery vine is quick to entangle your spine any time you choose to leave your home. The darned thing clenches and digs its thorns in, threatening to jolt your head into a spasm but you always fight the urge.

That day wasn't much different. To begin with, at least.

After your usual mental prepping and throwing your cap on, you take the leap of faith from your doorstep and trudge along for your weekly grocery run. All in all, it seemed it was going to be fairly standard; weave in and out of people, make no eye contact, get the goods, and go home. It wasn't like it was late on your way back either but, with the winter season, that night was soon rolling in. You notice another set of footsteps trailing behind you, which certainly isn't helping. It could just be that pesky paranoia settling in but this person has been hot on your tail for a few minutes now. Still having some streets to go, you curse your blunder in not choosing a location more in-city. In an attempt to get home faster without displaying your fear, you ever so slightly pick up the pace. The individual appears to do the same and you are ready to run. The muscles in your calves tighten in anticipation of a quick escape.

That's when it happened: a chance encounter that reduced you to tears.

"Hey!" an all-too-familiar voice beckons from behind you.

Anxiety prickles your skin for different reasons than before. There's no way it's him. Surely not.

Oh, but it is.

The great hero Dynamight had been making his rounds in the city, keeping an astute eye out for anything amiss but also for you. It may seem outlandish for him to still be looking for you after almost three years but this is Bakugo. He's not one to give up. That's probably why he's grown more calloused in this time. He hasn’t been able to heal. To move on. The night still haunts him though he never lets that show. His cold heart had grown even heavier and colder since that day. He barely says a word - more so than usual. The man eats at himself over the whole situation. What could he have done differently? Is there actually anything he could have actually done? If he can’t even save a comrade, a person he cares so deeply about, is he even worthy of the title of hero? Perhaps that is another driving force to keep searching for you. It may seem crazy but at least he hasn't lost his hope. Not like they did. How could they all just assume you dead like that? How could they give up on a friend? A fellow pro hero? Not him. Not ever and nor Kirishima. That redhead, as much of an idiot as he may be, is the only one who stuck by Bakugo's headstrong tenacity over the years. He shakes the thoughts from his head for about the umpteenth time just that day alone.

It seemed as though it would be another afternoon of quiet. One might say that's a nice change of pace but some individuals like to be kept busy. Bakugo stopped for one of his annoying fans when he caught a flash from the corner of his eye. It almost looked like... no. It couldn't be. Wait... is it? His gaze has never once failed him before. The calls of the young boy were lost to him, his feet moved without his consent. He'd recognise that stupid hat anywhere. It wasn't even a matter of questioning the legitimacy before he was practically tailgating the unsuspecting individual. It didn't take long until it was just the two of them walking along the darkening street. His heart hasn’t beat this hard since that terrible day. He shakes his head, almost grows angry. What if it is you? What will he do? A deep breath. Just keep focusing on the task at hand - one that seems to be slipping from him the longer this cat-and-mouse chase drags out. His tracks aren't exactly subtle given how the freshly falling snow crunches and groans beneath his weight. The speed picks up and he knows he has to say something before his "prey" runs off. He has opened and closed his mouth several times to speak up to her but he backs out every time. Goddamnit Bakugo just say something. He growls to himself and closes his eyes. His fists clench beneath his gauntlets. He can’t believe he is about to do this. He must be crazy.

Finally, somehow managing to find his own voice, he calls out. "Hey!"

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to call out that name in case his assumption was wrong. The figure stops and slowly turns around to face him. Bakugo stares a moment longer before slowly walking over to get a closer look. His heart punches against his ribcage when he's no more than a meter in front of that familiar face. There have been some changes, of course, but he would recognise those eyes anywhere - your eyes. He looks back and forth between them before letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. He closes his eyes and rests a hand on her shoulder, an action that is hesitant but proves the reality of your existence at this moment. All he can do is keep his eyes closed as everything tries to catch up to him. Eventually, he takes in a deep sigh and slowly looks up at you. His expression holds a mixture of sad and relived and some exhaustion like he just got done with a war.

"How long, (Y/n)?"

At first, you haven't a clue what he's talking about until it hits you like a steel pipe to the cheek. You had gotten so caught up in the situation, Katsuki Bakugo slowly trailing towards you with an unease you had never witnessed in him before. Not like this. A million and one thoughts spurry around your head but, at the same time, you are also completely blank. Crimson eyes pierce right into your soul, attempting to coerce your tongue for the words but still nothing. You can't help the nausea in your stomach when it dawns on you just how mad he may get. You already envision the blade of his teeth slicing through you.

"They... I was discharged from a hospital in Hachinohe almost... almost four months ago."

It all comes down on him like a sack of bricks. Understandably, he is pissed - unequivocally burning in damnation of the truth that you are alive and have been roaming the streets for so many months and against his knowledge no less. It doesn't matter if he had been in the middle of a battle; he would have been there for you in a heartbeat. Growing more painful, he rubs at the migraine pounding against his temples. He wipes his forehead as if making up for the fact that there are no tears to dry. He doesn't know how to cry right now. The pressure and strain amidst his palms shake his nerves to no end.

"And you didn't call?!" he screams over his crackling throat. "I would have come for you! We would have come for you!"

How could you call? You were so sure that everyone was better off without you, that you weren't needed in their lives. By the time you had been freed, everyone had become more well-established heroes in society. They don't need you. They moved on. That's how you thought of it, at least. Your attempted explanation of this only angers him further but he breathes past the frustration when he realises how worked up you're getting. What happened to you for you to think such awful things?

"I'm not sure where you got this narrative of not being needed," he sighs and looks away. "Do you have any idea what it has been like without you, dumbass?"

The old nickname slips off his tongue so naturally. He'd always call everyone an idiot, stupid, nerd ironically enough, but dumbass? That was reserved for you and for you only, so for it to be said - to be heard - after two years breaks you.

It had been quite a sight, watching you crumble down to the snow-covered floor. He had knelt down, waiting for you to calm down enough to form coherent sentences again. As cohesive as you could against the waves of rainfall spilling from your face, anyway. When things had eventually calmed, he took you back to your apartment and gave you the chance to speak. You managed to tell him little about what you had been through. Each sentence dwindled beneath the weighing sickness that bubbled in your throat any time you tried to get into detail. One thing really stood out to Bakugo, however. He envisioned the mass murder of those bastards for having done this to you, for rendering you quirkless and making you believe such self-deprecating lies.

That was two days ago. Bakugo insisted on you staying around his just to keep an eye on you. You know better than to refuse his help and it's for his own piece of mind as well as yours. He even took the liberty of calling off work for the rest of the week just to make sure you're okay. He never does that, which is probably why a certain redhead is standing at his door, wide-eyed, gawking at you. Once he had caught wind of Bakugo's absence at the agency, he raced over to make sure everything was okay. He could have never anticipated seeing you. The two of you stare at one another, unable to say anything. You take a stand and open your mouth to say something, anything, but the wind is pushed from your lungs when Kirishima gulps you up into his arms. He cries. God, this man cries and sobs with no yield as he just holds you. Restraints don't appear to exist anymore and you spill again, clutching onto him with unceremonious content. He doesn't ask any questions and just weeps into your shoulder, fearing the worst if he were to let go.

Everyone else had assumed you were dead. Why wouldn't they? After two, almost three, years, why would you believe a person to still be alive? Not them. They kept looking, searching, and scouring every last mineral in this damn country to try and find you. Now they have you back in their lives? They swear by All-Might that you will be waited on, pampered, loved, and cared for until they see the remnants of your old self again. It will take time but they waited this long for you, right?

No time in the world is more worth it.

It's probably worth mentioning that I could very clearly hear the chorus to Childish Gambino's song 'Heartbeat' when Kirishima went in for the hug and now it's stuck in my head.

I should also probably work more on WSA but I think I need to do a few one-shots just to get me back in the groove. I hope you enjoyed and sorry if it feels a bit rushed in some areas :')

Did I proof read it? Unfortunately not.

#x reader #kiribaku x reader #bakukiri x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #mha #bnha

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idyllic-affections · 2 years ago

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invisible disability? it's rather visible to me.

summary. baizhu knows the struggle of maintaining a job while being chronically ill; as such, he is willing to offer an accommodating work environment for others who struggle like he does.

trigger & content warnings. angst (at first... it gets better i swear /lh), ableism, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. baizhu & chronically ill!teen!reader, qiqi & reader. 1.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. he's out of nonplayable prison ygs!!!!! can't wait to see his character stories for..... personal reasons..... anyways i want to specify that i am chronically ill. i am constantly fighting with my genetics to be healthy, its ridiculous LMAO

imagine baizhu employing a chronically ill, visionless teenager.

baizhu can easily say he's known their family for a long time, so he of course knows that they have trouble keeping a job. they often mention little things like that about their life during their visits with him. never once has he found anything wrong with them; they're always in virtually perfect health.

that doesn't change the fact that they're very clearly struggling. he's observed just how much they overexert themselves in a desperate attempt to actually keep a stable job, simply to help support their family, but all the exertion only seems to make their invisible issues worse.

also... they've been in his care for heat stroke more than once in liyue's warmer seasons. the heat is just far too much for their body to handle if they aren't careful.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

Their voice was so quiet and whispery that if Baizhu hadn't been attuned closely to them at that moment, he might have missed it. They half wished that he would have. Based on the brief glance he spared in their direction, they knew he was listening. Oh well.

"I mean... really. This is ridiculous," they murmured, knees drawn up against their chest. "Everyone thinks I'm just dramatic. I'm not. I do fine for the most part, but then it just... gets bad for no reason at all... how am I in perfect health?"

By that point in their rant, his undivided attention was on them. Though his gaze was thoughtful, musing, they interpreted it differently and winced slightly.

"...Sorry. I really shouldn't be complaining like this in front of someone who's chronically ill."

"No, it's quite alright. You shouldn't minimize your pain. Your struggles are as valid as mine. I find your trust, your ability to confide in me, quite endearing, even," he reassured, unbothered, to which their shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension they harbored. "In fact... I've been thinking about this for quite some time now. Chronic illness may show itself in a variety of forms. Sometimes it may show itself in the form of your symptoms. Would you like to learn how to manage your energy better?"

the liyuean doctor basically hired them right then and there, but they don't really realize that for the first few weeks.

in the beginning, they're just... spending time at bubu pharmacy, learning how baizhu manages his own limited energy and applying those techniques to their own life (it works shockingly well). that's all!

it slowly turns into them helping out where they can—packaging herbs, learning what exactly each one of them does, delivering prescriptions to those who cannot physically get the medicines themselves... even when people start to question if they've found a new job, they remain oblivious.

it's one day while helping mince herbs that they realize they're basically a junior herbalist.

A soft hiss left their lips when the knife nicked the pad of their finger. They were quick to put pressure on the little cut, pulling their hand away from the countertop to prevent any blood from dripping onto it.

"It's best to get rid of those herbs," Baizhu reminded, stepping away from his own work to gently bandage their wound.

A small pout graced their lips. "I didn't get any blood on them, though..."

Amusement and the vaguest hint of fondness twinkled in his gaze. "We don't know that for certain, do we, now?"

"...Wait a minute." Their eyes narrowed suspicously at him, drawing their freshly-dressed hand back once he was done. "This isn't about energy management anymore, is it? Have I been... I've been working here this entire time. These tasks are very employee-like."

"Come, now. Don't look at me like that. You were looking for a stable job, and I am more than willing to accomodate your needs."

"You could've at least said something to me. I've been doing free labor all this time, and as a child, no less! Hmm... now, I do believe that is illegal in this part of Teyvat~ It'd be shame to get Ms. Yanfei involved~"

in the spirit teaching them to manage their energy, he often takes them on house calls with him, starting off to just homes in liyue harbor and later to homes all the way in qingce village. it's a good way for them to gain stamina and get a better understanding of their job.

baizhu has a tendency to smile through his own pain for the sake of his patients.

this habit slipped by unchecked until [name] came around.

whenever they feel like he isn't doing very well, they'll take over for him regardless of what he has to say about it.

herbalist gui is very thankful for them—baizhu hardly ever listened to him, but he does take better care of himself for [name]'s sake.

(he swears that baizhu is oddly parental when it comes to them, but he wouldn't dare mention the doctor's blatant affections to his face.)

"welcome to bubu pharmacy," they'd greet with a kind smile after unceremoniously shoving baizhu towards the back of the pharmacy where he could rest undisturbed, "unfortunately, dr. baizhu is currently out of commission, but herbalist gui and i would be glad to take care of anything you may need."

sometimes changsheng can be seen wrapped around their arm! usually it's their dominant arm, which is terribly inconveniencing. still, it would be an honor to be Chosen™ by their loved one's pet... if only she wasn't so mean to them.

"Hmph. You're terrible at cutting herbs. It pains me just to watch."

"Okay? Go back to Dr. Baizhu then? I'm not holding you hostage, Changsheng. You came to me," they huffed. "Also... maybe I'd be able to cut better if you weren't strangling my dominant arm. Just saying."

It's a few moments later that they're sulking, murmuring curses as Baizhu disinfected their fresh snake bite. Changsheng completely neglected to apologize until Baizhu had prompted her to.

(They would complain that he found that incident a little too funny if anyone were to ask them. It really hurt, you know!)

changsheng bullies them lovingly <3 she bites them affectionately <33

(not that she'd ever say that, though. baizhu knows. he just chooses to let her believe he doesn't know.)

qiqi becomes very attached to them very quickly, i think. she'd like having a nice older sibling around and would address them as such without even thinking about it. "jiějiě," "gēgē"... she can't really tell what gender they identify closer with and doesn't remember to ask, so she tends to bounce between the two terms of address.

she has an entire page in her journal dedicated to little things about [name] that she deems to be important. she notes down things they seem to like, things they seem to dislike, their birthday, other important dates, defining features...

she also keeps important warning signs related to health episodes of their's jotted down, like how when [name] stands still a little too long, qiqi should urge them to sit for a moment because they're probably either dizzy or having vision issues, or how when their hands begin to tremble, qiqi should share a sunsettia with them.

she does miss these signs sometimes... she does her best, though! qiqi only wants to help the sweet junior herbalist that braids her hair and accompanies her on her herb-picking trips and hugs her and says "i love you, please stop this task, you might get hurt" with so much genuine affection that it often overwhelms her :(

it's rare, but sometimes, there will be a customer or patient that has little tolerance for their disability-induced weakness or slowness.

because their illness(es) is(/are) invisible, very few people take their struggles seriously.

some people take this as an excuse to verbally and even physically abuse them.

baizhu does not take kindly to people abusing his employees, especially not his chronically ill teenage employee. especially not them.

"Is there an issue I can help with?"

They didn't mind being the only one at reception during the days Herbalist Gui was out, Qiqi was herb-picking, and Baizhu was otherwise occupied. It wasn't a big deal, really.

At least... not until someone particularly impatient decided to make their job difficult.

Baizhu never took kindly to such incidents; this one was no different. Based on his tone of voice alone, it wasn't hard to guess that he was livid, golden irises alight with rage. Even Changsheng had hissed in their defense at the sight in front of her eyes.

He'd come back just in time to see them flinch away from the raised hand of some foreign adventurer.

"This one—"

"And who said I was asking you?" he scoffed, sliding behind the counter and checking them for wounds. They were shaking, he noted, gingerly supporting a fraction of their weight in case they were to collapse. "I was asking my herbalist, [Name]."

Baizhu was a man of patience and, really...

He wasn't all that confrontational. Despite that, any semblance of the supposed cowardice he harbored was gone in an instant.

His scarred fingers drew soothing shapes on their upper arm as he led them into the back of the clinic, guiding them to sit on one of the beds before their legs could give out.

"Are you alright?"

baizhu takes very good care of them after stressful encounters because he knows very well that such high-stress emotional experiences will take a toll on their body.

whenever a wealthier patient comes in, they've learned to overcharge them on purpose even if it's for the most ridiculous of ailments; oh? you say you have been sneezing quite a lot and are having a hard time breathing? no, no, it's not springtime allergies, who told you that? it's quite dire, in fact, and the treatment price will be awfully expensive... oh? you'll pay it? wonderful!

^ herbalist gui says that baizhu is a terrible influence on them sometimes.

in their defense, they get hefty bonuses every time wealthy people pay ridiculous prices for typically rather inexpensive herbs (like a certain ginger harbinger did one time! they still giggle at the memory of him paying so much for so little). the more wealthy people pay, the bigger their bonuses (fatui harbingers are very wealthy...).

simply put, they make more mora than the majority of their family put together because of this morally dubious behavior.

baizhu, gui, qiqi, and [name] are a chaotic found family but yk what? they all make it work <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion's headcanons 🌸#: [ the junior herbalist! 🌸 ]#baizhu x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #baizhu x you #baizhu x y/n #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #qiqi x reader #platonic qiqi x reader

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behindthesoul · 2 months ago

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Itching In My Heart (smut)

Havik x Bi-Han

Summary: Havik does his best to find an ally in Bi-Han in his search for chaos. Bi-Han does his best to not be easily swayed by temptation.

Word Count: 2,557

Warnings: Bottom!Bi-Han, top!Havik, handjobs, anal fingering, spit as lube, no anal penetration, slight overstimulation, not proofread, slightly AU-ish? this is kind of my own canon because I didn’t feel like rewatching Khaos Reigns to make sure the plot was “lore accurate”

A/N: Wrote this for a good friend of mine, it took some time for me to get this done because I’m not super used to writing less popular ships. I am happy with how this turned out, though! May or may not be a part two depending on reader interest. Comments appreciated!

—

A harsh wind blows through the desolate peaks of the Lin Kuei temple, alerting the world to find comfort indoors. The Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster remains awake, standing at the edge of the temple’s courtyard, his eyes narrow at the swirling storm clouds overhead. His breath frosts in the air, mirroring the ice that clings to his soul. No longer held back by the restraints of his family, Bi-Han begins to relish in the thought of finally shaping the Lin Kuei to his vision.

But a new force begins to rise, and it takes a new form – one that defines a sense of order, a form that Bi-Han simply cannot ignore.

“You seek freedom,” came a raspy voice, a voice that would no doubt harm the throat if it were spoken by an average person. It echoes through the courtyard, a twisting sound that seems to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Bi-Han’s muscles tense. His hands instinctively forming fists, a frost slowly creeping over them. He turns, icy eyes attempting to fixate on the figure emerging from the shadows. A gaunt, disheveled man. A mutilated face. A pair of cloudy, slightly opaque eyes. A presence that taints the surrounding air.

“Havik,” Bi-Han mutters, his voice cold, yet holds a hint of curiosity. He had heard whispers of the Titan, a madman who cared not for order and peace. His motives were always shrouded in chaos, and yet here he stood before the Lin Kuei Grandmaster.

Havik grins – well, attempts to grin – and his eyes gleam with a manic light. “You know me, Sub-Zero. And I know you. You seek power… freedom. The order you serve, the realm you protect – it’s a lie, a cage.”

Bi-Han’s gaze flickers with momentary doubt, though it’s quickly masked with his usual stoicism. “The Lin Kuei serve no one, we protect ourselves.”

A low, gravelly chuckle escapes Havik’s lips. “Is that so? Yet I see chains, invisible to the eye but no less real. You’re bound to the realm, to the destiny laid before you. But I can offer you something different… something pure.”

Bi-Han’s eyes remain fixed on the…thing before him, yet his thoughts churn beneath the surface. Power, respect, what he seeks – ultimate control over his fate, over the Lin Kuei, over those who dare disrespect him. But Havik’s words stir something in him, a strange allure in the promise of something so unknown to him.

“You speak in riddles,” Bi-Han says, his tone dismissive. “If you seek my aid in your madness, you’ll find I am not so easily swayed.”

Havik takes a step closer, his head tilted, his heart racing. “Not madness – truth. Order is the true insanity, the belief that anything in this universe can be controlled. Chaos is the natural state of things, the only true power.”

A gust of cold wind swirls around them, but Havik stands unfazed by the chill, as though it barely touched him. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Imagine a world without rules, without being reduced to Earthrealm’s lapdog. A world where the strong truly prevail. You are already close to breaking free, Sub-Zero. Let me show you the final step.”

Bi-Han’s exterior cracks for a moment as he considers Havik’s words. He thinks back to past events – cursing Liu Kang, his brothers defecting from the Lin Kuei – ties that had been severed because they held him back, bound him to a code he no longer believed in. The chaos that Havik spoke of – a world without restraint, without rules – appealed to him more than he cared to admit.

And yet…

“You think I would follow you into this insanity?” Bi-Han’s voice was a low growl, not wanting to give in just yet.

Havik’s grin only widens, his hands slightly trembling with perverse delight. “Not follow, Bi-Han. Lead. Chaos is not about subjugation or surrender. It’s about liberation. You have the power to forge your path through the frozen wastes of this universe. Together, we can unshackle the realms themselves.”

Bi-Han’s eyes flicker to the ground, a move uncommon by someone of his status. He doesn’t respond immediately, but silence speaks volumes.

Havik lets out another low chuckle, knowing the seed he’s planted is already beginning to grow.

“Think about it, Grandmaster,” Havik purrs. “Earthrealm, laid bare. No Liu Kang to write destiny for you. Instead, the pen rests in your hands.”

And in that moment, Bi-Han’s mind churns with possibilities – the thought of forging his own path is something he couldn’t resist.

He doesn’t say yes.

But he doesn’t say no, either.

Bi-Han eyes dart left, then right, then back to Havik. Having someone like him out in the open where anyone can see? Not a very good look. He motions with his hand for the man to follow him before quickly walking out of the courtyard. The interior of the Lin Kuei palace is a sight Bi-Han is all too familiar with, yet his heart beats faster with every breath he takes. Havik’s thick scent floats through the air, contaminating anything in his path. Bi-Han refuses to turn his head and look back at Havik, instead focusing on the footsteps behind him. They’re heavy, a sharp sound that rattles the ground. Each footfall is disorganized, the lack of rhythm directly contrasting Bi-Han’s light, poise steps. Bi-Han mentally curses, hoping no one is alarmed by such a noise. He swears that he can feel Havik’s breath warming his neck, but the footsteps say that Havik is keeping his distance.

It isn’t long before Bi-Han reaches the destination: his bedroom, the most private place one could be. One hand twists the doorknob, while the other quickly grabs Havik’s wrist and forces him inside the room, eliciting a loud, annoying cackle. Bi-Han steps inside and quickly locks the door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His room is dimly lit, a soft light from a candle immediately illuminating his face. Frost crawls up the stone walls like an ever-present reminder of Bi-Han’s power, chilling the air between them. Havik barely seems to notice, his vacant eyes focused solely on the Grandmaster standing across the room, his posture a mask of practiced calm.

Bi-Han clears his throat, breaking his silence. “Your proposal. Elaborate.”

Havik stands taller, excited to still have grasped Bi-Han’s curiosity. “Tell me, Bi-Han,” he begins – the sudden use of his given name not going unnoticed by the Grandmaster. “Do you know what it is like to be free? Truly free? Or have you always been bound by the Lin Kuei’s false honor?”

Bi-Han crosses his arms, staring Havik down with an annoyed glare. “Honor is a choice, Havik. Not a shackle. I invite you to choose your words carefully when you speak of the clan I lead.”

Havik laughs, low and guttural, his voice like gravel against stone. “Perhaps, but I wonder how much of that is a true choice, and how much are you clinging to what you’ve been taught – to your chains.”

A slight frown flashes across Bi-Han’s face, though he quickly composes himself. The way Havik speaks so casually, so provocative, as if the core of his being could be so easily dissected. Yet..he couldn’t ignore the possibility of a slight truth in Havik’s words. He keeps his eyes on Havik, hesitant to look anywhere else.

“What exactly do you want from me, Havik?”

Havik steps closer, an amused hum leaving his throat. His fingers trail lightly over a frost coated desk beside him, his gaze looking down to meet Bi-Han’s. “I want you to see chaos as I do,” he murmurs, tone surprisingly softer, yet still layered with its typical intensity. “Imagine a world without boundaries. Without restraint. Just power…and desire.”

Bi-Han suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “You’d think me so foolish to throw away everything I have built for some hollow promise of freedom? I have my own path, one that doesn’t require your madness.”

Havik’s face is blank, showing a lack of reaction to Bi-Han’s words. “Not madness, truth!” He corrects again. “Is there not a part of you that longs to let go of control? To let chaos in, even for a moment?”

The Grandmaster’s jaw clenches, wanting to deny Havik further, but something in the man’s gaze – a dark, pervertish desire – holds him in place. Havik’s cold, rotting, fingers make their way to Bi-Han’s arm, a slight touch, but enough to imprint the feel on Bi-Han’s mind forever.

“You do not have to be alone in this world, Bi-Han,” Havik starts, “there is power in chaos, yes, but there is also the comfort found in…connection.”

Bi-Han’s heart begins to increase in pace, though his face remains impassive. Havik’s gaze is still unflinching, his corpse-like eyes aiding him in hiding emotion. His fingers trace a line up Bi-Han’s arm until they reach his shoulder, then his collarbone.

“Is that your true wish, Havik?” Bi-Han’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “Connection?”

A silence stretches between them, the weight of the conversation thickening the air. Bi-Han considers stepping back, letting the previous, familiar distance reassert itself. But he doesn’t move.

Havik’s hand finally slides up to cup the side of Bi-Han’s face. “It is what you want, too. Let me show you what true freedom feels like.”

And then, before Bi-Han could respond, Havik leans in, gently pressing their heads together. The moment ends as quickly as it began, and Havik grabs Bi-Han’s hand, leading him to his bed. He pushes Bi-Han into the mattress with too much force to be considered gentle, but soft enough to be out of Havik’s norm. Bi-Han allows him to remove his clothing piece by piece, until nothing's left for the imagination. Bi-Han thinks back to intimate moments with past partners, usually the pace is slowed with kisses that express longing for one another. But with another quick glance at Havik – it’s obvious to see why this experience cannot be compared to others.

Havik begins to take off his own garments. Starting with his helmet, chest piece, then loincloth, carelessly throwing them across the room. He climbs on top of Bi-Han, hunger growing through him. His hands reach to touch Bi-Han, but he is interrupted before he gets the chance.

“You will speak a word of this to no one,” Bi-Han threatens, “do not make me regret speaking to you.”

Bi-Han expects a booming cackle, a snarky comment, maybe an eye roll – anything he’s learned to expect from Havik. But he gets a simple nod in response. Havik’s more focused on the nude form in front of him. He allows his hands to map out Bi-Han’s pale skin. They outline his chest, drawing a circle around a small mole above his nipples. Havik leans down, indulging himself in the taste of Bi-Han’s skin. His rough, almost cat-like tongue dances around the mole, before dragging down to Bi-Han’s nipple. Bi-Han’s back slightly arches at the sudden contact, and hisses as Havik invites his other hand to stimulate Bi-Han’s chest in tandem with his tongue. Bi-Han can feel himself becoming lightheaded once his dick begins to harden. He raises his hand to touch Havik’s dick, and he’s quickly rewarded with a groan and tug to his nipple. Bi-Han slowly moves his hand and familiarizes himself with Havik’s length, his breath hitches as he feels its girth. His mind drifts to the thought of it slowly stretching him out, knocking the air out of him with each thrust.

Bi-Han tries to lose himself in the feeling of Havik in his hand, but his partner has other plans. A frustrated huff leaves Havik as he suddenly loses interest in teasing Bi-Han’s chest, suddenly turning his attention to Bi-Han’s cock, perhaps grabbing it with a bit too much force, as a sound mixed with bliss and annoyance escapes Bi-Han’s throat.

“Finally,” ire laces Havik’s tone, “I want to hear you.”

Havik temporarily removes his hand to spit on his palm, then returns it to Bi-Han. His hand drags up and down Bi-Han’s dick, relishing in how Bi-Han’s brows furrow. Havik experiments with different speeds and pressures, desperate to find the correct combination to make Bi-Han’s head spin. Another blissed groan is how Havik knows he’s succeeded. By now Bi-Han has given up on returning the pleasure to Havik – not that the latter even cares. His cheeks are flushed, and his legs feel weak. He tries to level his breathing, but Havik’s hand working his body forces each sigh to come out shaky. Bi-Han’s fingers find purchase in the bedsheets below him. His strong grip almost steadying him as he melts into the sensation.

Bi-Han grunts and tenses as he suddenly realizes the existence of a spit covered finger dancing around his entrance. Feeling Havik’s eyes on him, Bi-Han tries to relax his body, giving a silent ‘go ahead.’ Havik takes the chance to push a finger inside Bi-Han, sighing as he feels the muscles tighten around him. Bi-Han feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, the dual sensations of Havik’s hand on his dick and inside him makes his body feel wobbly and weak. Not a single Lin Kuei would recognize their Grandmaster in this state: pupils blown, face red, slightly trembling. Bi-Han loses his last bit of control when a soft moan breaks out in response to Havik pushing in another finger. Bi-Han only wishes to tell Havik to fuck off when he hears the man cackle, but another moan leaves his throat before he can do so. Bi-Han slightly hisses in discomfort, wishing he had proper lubricant. He makes a mental note to be more well prepared for future encounters.

A sudden pressure is soon felt deep in Bi-Han’s abdomen, his eye twitching as he realizes what it is. His face scrunches up as the feeling grows, soon becoming unbearable. He reaches down to tap Havik’s hand – a warning. And with another, much louder moan, Bi-Han cums all over Havik’s hand and his own stomach. He pants, trying to find respite after such a huge feeling, but finds it difficult as Havik refuses to slow his pace. Bi-Han sharply exhales as sensitivity boils over, squirming as Havik’s fingers curl inside of him. He hisses right before the feeling has a chance to become uncomfortable, and smacks Havik’s hand.

Havik slowly removes his hands from Bi-Han, and gives the Grandmaster a positive, almost curious look – one that is not shared by Bi-Han.

“I do not wish to continue,” comes Bi-Han’s weak voice. He cringes at the thought of Havik inside of him without any form of lubricant, knowing even attempting to do so would put him out of commission for a day or so.

Havik doesn’t fight the request, instead getting off the bed in search of something to clean up with. He returns with a cloth, using it to wipe cum and sweat off Bi-Han’s body. The material is familiar, and Bi-Han promptly smacks Havik’s arm upon realizing his own clothing is being used as a towel.

Tossing the garment aside after finishing his task, Havik once again places his forehead against Bi-Han’s, content with how the night has played out.

“Rest, Bi-Han,” is all he says as he shifts himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “Tomorrow, we will discuss my plans in further detail.”

“And where will you be whilst I rest?”

“I will still be here.”

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