#these are my genuine ships for each doctor

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

��Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐥𝐮𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

content warnings: gay relationship, descriptions of grevious bodily injury, implied self-mutilation/self-harm, male reader, monster x human relationship, hurt/comfort writing, hey this starts out really dark please take care of your mental health, arguments, misunderstood feelings, mermaid courtship, alternate universe where luocha is a traveling doctor who's studying biology and anatomy across the universe blah blah blah, luocha is pretty genuine in this even though i know he is in fact a snake let me idealize for a moment okay, luocha puts a ring on it without realizing he is literally putting a ring on it

full admittance you'll probably find parallels with @/havanilla's merventurine au at the start of this cause it was one of the last things I read on my old tumblr account before it died on me and i fear i DO have brainrot

to add to my earlier warning about this chapter beginning out dark, there will be a marker for the cuter, mermaid courtship section of the fic!! look for a marker like the one below VV

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak! "

" new contact noted! caller luocha has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

A pained scream ripped through the air.  

It was a shame it couldn’t be distinguished from the sound of other yells and shouting from all over the deck.  In fact, it seemed the anguish was completely drowned out by the noise of an older man beginning to bark orders from the side of the fishing boat.  Gravelly with age and experience, sets and more sets of hands seemed to jump to action, rushing over to that specific side of the deck.  

In the crew’s haste, they didn’t seem to notice they had also woken up the residential cabin.  Things were more than hectic; the experienced crew themselves were in a frenzy.  There was something that demanded urgent attention and it seemed none of the regular passengers were privy to what exactly it was. 

Still, in the curious sea of civilian passengers renting their rooms in the bowels of the ship, a tall blonde head of hair peered over the crowd straight to the source of the fuss.  Over the sea of yellow rain jackets adorning the working fishermen, he caught sight of some kind of reflective surface… what many wrote off as an oversized fish, Luocha continued to strain his eyes at.

Should he have been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed.  But Luocha was a doctor, he was more than familiar with noises of distress; with the scent of blood.  Something in the very core of his body shook with each of the pained and weak motions of an equally pained, weak patient.  The vibrations crept up his spine from the wooden boards of the ship, whispering into his ears. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was terribly wrong. 

Despite the protests of one of the tour guides, urging him to go back to sleep, he rushed towards the scene.  The same pained screams; the sounds of the body on the deck; the reflection of the “oversized fish”, they became clearer and clearer the closer he closed in.

Before he could make it into the crowd of men at work, he was caught by one of their coworkers.  Clad in a yellow raincoat, shadow cast across his face in the rain, the obviously displeased grimace all over his face only further sent Luocha into a state of panic.  A tense grip on his elbow, the man spoke in a language he didn’t understand.  Even if he didn’t understand the words themselves, Luocha was more than smart enough to understand the message the worker was trying to convey.  Before he could be pulled away, he made one last attempt to see what exactly was going on. 

When he did manage to catch a glimpse, he froze. 

Perfect, round tears running down flushed, red cheeks. 

The skin was pulled taut in another scream.  Based on the shaking motion of the face, he could only really come to the conclusion the body was being jerked in every direction possible. 

“Stop… STOP!”  He yanked his elbow out of the man’s grasp, crashing directly into the back of another worker.  In his haste, he shoved the man out of the way only to find his path blocked by even more yellow raincoats.  “You’re only going to worsen the injuries! I’m a doctor!” 

Despite not considering himself to be very physically fit, something about the situation discarded that reality entirely.  An unknown strength washed over him as he forced his way through the clusterfuck of workers trying to wrestle the screamer into place. 

He didn’t understand, Luocha didn’t understand. 

There was an injured crew member on the deck, screaming–what kind of idiot would continue to pull and stress the skin around the wound? Was that why the team leader seemed to screaming with such vigor?  Was he equally concerned about one of his staff suddenly being sent into debilitating agony? 

But no, not even in the slightest.  

Through the crowd, a wet mop of hair thrashing against the backdrop of a barbed fishing net came into view.  The urgency only further sent Luocha wrestling through the crowd of men, all but screaming himself as he watched the injured man on the ground contort his facial muscles in abject horror.  

“Stop it, you’re hurting him!” 

 He could hear his own vocal chords start to tear as he shrieked for the poor victim.  With each passing moment, fear and anxiety seized the doctor in his entirety before he finally managed to part the crowd like the red sea. 

In the end,

he wasn’t faced with a crew member. 

...

A merman. 

Something he’d only heard of in the planet’s folklore. 

It seemed well-known the small surviving population hardly ever ventured out of protected waters for fear of predators. 

What was this one doing so far out…?

With the opportunity making itself known, the unknown merman continued to thrash but harder, lips curling upwards as another shrill cry of agony streaked the night air.  From up close, the doctor could only watch the formerly smooth, unmarred skin become tainted with red.  Washed with your own blood, you looked more similar to some kind of horror movie monster than a person. 

But even in the face of monstrosity, his inner doctor only saw the blown out pupils, the senseless aggression, the fear written all over his patient’s face in their own claret stain.

“You’ll end up killing him, stop, STOP!” 

He completely ignored his own pain as the barbs in the net ripped into the fabric of his pajamas, cutting open his knees when he threw his body on top of yours.  His hands flew around carelessly in an attempt to unlatch the hands that seemed determined to pull at you from every direction.  

At the loss of the hands all over your body, your screams died down into pitiful hyperventilation, curling in on yourself in an attempt to cover the wounds weeping crimson all over the formerly white net.  

Instead of relief, instead of some kind of graditude, it seemed he was only met with friction.

“Oy, blondie, paws off, do you understand how much money you’ve got your hands on right now?” 

The thick accent confused him at first, then the words themselves didn’t seem to compute. 

“Excuse me?” 

You yelped again when one of the men pulled at the net.   The cold metal tore sore flesh in chunks.

“Mermaid scales are priceless.  So are the pearls they cry, we caught the bastard fair and square so. Step. Off.” 

His mind scrambled to understand the sentence, thoughts muddling together in a blender of pain and panic.  “I- I-” 

“You?”  Another crew member chimed in, crossing his arms, “You’ll what, doctor?  You can either get off of him and wrap up your cuts yourself or we’ll drag you off and the barbs can teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.” 

“I-”  his breathing picked up drastically, suddenly confronted with such a terrible moral dilemma. 

When prying hands began to make grabby motions for the edges of the ropes, he choked out his final answer.

“I'll pay for him!"

“...”

“...”

“...”

He swept his rain-soaked bangs out of his face, his voice shaking, “You were planning on selling him, right?”  He fumbled with his sleeves, “I make good money, I swear, I-,” he swallowed, “I can afford it.  Just take as much as you want out of the account I used to pay for my cabin.”

“...” 

“...”

Things were a little bit awkward, to say the least. 

Despite an attempt being made to cooperate while you were awake, it seemed the pressure and the mounting stress of nearly dying made it unable for you to accept the fact that Luocha was not, in fact, going to hurt you. 

The attempt to deal with the various injuries littered all over formerly smooth, silky skin was unproductive at best.  In fact, it only created more problems.  Trying to operate while you were largely unreceptive to anything he was saying was by far the worst decision he could’ve made given the circumstances. 

Point blank, he needed to get the barbed hooks out of your skin.  If he didn’t, the wounds would be at increased risk of infection.  After all, based on the cruel treatment he’d seen on deck, he knew the metal was most likely unsanitized.  Doing this while you were awake was easily the worst decision he could've made.

Promising not to hurt you while continually yanking pieces of metal out of your tender flesh was not a good way to build trust. 

"..."

"..."

You poked at the “strange” bowl that’d been set in front of you.  It was some kind of clam-fish hybrid soup. I mean, Luocha was trying to be considerate of your regular diet.  Surely, since you were living out in open waters, you were pretty used to eating fish right?

He, however, failed to realize you weren’t exactly in a spot to ever enjoy the luxuries of cooked food… or soup.  He’d laid out some utensils for you to use on top of that; it was a shame you didn’t know how to use them. 

"..."

"..."

You realized pretty early on that he’d saved you from becoming a victim to death by blood loss.  After all, when you were dropped in a holding tank until the ship arrived at the port, the water went cloudy from the dirt, debris, and blood all over your body.  In your little waist-high tank, he’d done his best to make sure you’d actually survive through the night.

Despite your reservations about him, you did your best not to scream while you were confined to a glorified holding cell.  Nails digging into the glass, biting down hard enough on the towel to tear, you tried your best to stay still while he fished countless little hooks from your back, arms, and chest.  

Removing the large hook in your shoulder was the most painful part of the process for the both of you.  You, for obvious reasons.  The hook made a clean cut through the muscle--scraping up against the bone--by the time you were awake enough to realize you were wrapped up in a barbed net.  Luocha, on the other hand, was the one that had to deal with the struggle while trying to complete a very tricky operation.  

Eventually, the problem dealt with itself when you passed out.  Really, he should’ve sedated you to start with, and he cursed at himself for not thinking of it sooner.  After you went out, he did his best to stitch everything up–hell, he wrapped you up in enough bandages to look like a mummy. 

But, since the two of you actually arrived on the island, there wasn’t so much as a word shared from either party. 

You woke up in a little bathtub, in a little bathroom, feeling like your arms were falling off and you couldn’t breathe because of how tight all of the bandages were wrapped around you. Eventually the giant bandages changed to smaller ones attached with some medical tape.  The only bulky one left was the one wrapped around your shoulder. 

"..."

"..."

With some trepidation, you grabbed at one of the fishtails sticking out of the mystery liquid, digging a finger in between the meat and the ribs to peel it off the bone.  Carefully, you used one of your freshly trimmed nails to remove the thick, scaly skin, then biting off a chunk to chew and swallow.  

The longer you stared at the bowl, the more confused you became. 

Yes, you knew how to eat a fish. 

Yes, you knew how to eat a mussel. 

No, you didn’t know what to do with whatever else was in the bowl.  

You paused eating when the man sitting across from the bathtub cleared his throat.  He made a vague gesture towards your lap, “Would you…?”

‘...mind if I showed you how to eat a bowl of soup?’ 

Without much hesitation, you offered up your meal again, much more interested in the chunk of fish in your hand.  Biting off another piece, you drank in the pleasant familiarity in just having some tilapia for once.  

He picked up the spoon. Deciding not to embarrass you further, he decided to taste test the food himself instead of trying to feed you. He let the silver spoon clatter back into the bowl, passing it over to you again. Despite the clear demonstration he’d given you, you opted to pick at one of the mussels hiding underneath the broth. 

“...”

“...”

He cleared his throat again, seemingly averting eye contact as he stared at the tiled walls. 

You diverted your attention from your bowl back to the blonde doctor. 

“I don’t mean to be rude or pry in any way,” he swallowed, “but what exactly were you doing so far from protected waters?"

You didn’t seem surprised in the slightest by his question, grabbing at the other fish tail in the bowl, “Smuggling and poaching.”  

He tilted his head curiously.

“Protective waters have attendants to track general pod health, they have the authority to temporarily remove merfolk from the water to do routine health checks."  You finally wrapped your hand around the spoon awkwardly, bringing some broth up to your lips. "Smugglers get jobs as attendants cause only tagged mermaids are considered protected.” You wiggled one of your finned ears, your left ear. Notably, there was a small tear in one of the fins. “It only takes a couple minutes for an attendant to catch a mermaid, sedate them, get them into a vehicle, remove their tag and throw them out into the right spots for a couple grand.” 

“I see.” 

You hummed, finally bringing the soup up to your lips, “Speaking of, how much did you end up having to pay for me?”

"..."

"..."

“Excuse me?” Luocha’s hands rested in his lap. 

“How much did you end up paying for me?”  You picked up another mussel, “I’m pretty good about keeping up with the price of scales and pearls.  I know you bought me as some kind of pity project, but I'm pretty eager to go back out to open waters.  Just name your price and I can start trying to pay off the debt.” 

The doctor blinked a couple times. “Oh… oh my god, absolutely not!”  He shook his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest defensively, “There is no need to pay me back in the slightest.  Please, just rest well and remain healthy.  That would be the best payment.”

“What’s this?” 

He rolled the small iridescent pearl between his gloved fingers. 

“It’s a pearl.” 

He cracked a smile at that. It was gone as quick as it arrived as he brought the little treasure to his face to take a closer look.  “Well yes, but where did you get this? Did you have it stashed on you somewhere?”

You twirled your finger in a circle on the surface of the water. “No,” absentmindedly you observed the little whirlpool it made, “I made it.” 

He blinked a couple of times, hand dropping back to his side. “Pardon?” 

You finally looked up from the surface of the water, “I made it.” 

He cocked his head to the side, “You… made a pearl?” 

You looked at him, bored, “Well, yeah, did you not know mermaids make pearls?”

He looked from you, to the pearl, and then back at you.  “No… I’m afraid I didn’t know.”  His palm closed into a fist around the pearl, “How?” 

“...hm?”

He gestured towards his closed hand, “How did you make it?” 

You gave a huff, “Well, you’ve seen me make them before.”  

He frowned, “I… have?”

‘-and I didn’t notice?’

You nodded, shifting around in the bathtub to try and stretch your long tail out a little bit.  "The night I got caught on the boat-" Your jaw tensed, a sudden pang of soreness shooting up from your extremities. "-they were all over the deck, there were a bunch in the little tank they had me in.” 

His frown only deepened as he did his best to recall, “I don’t think I remember seeing them…? Does your blood crystalize into them or something of the sort?” 

You rested your head on the porcelain of the tub, bringing your arms up to cushion your cranium.  “Tears,” you murmured, “Merfolk tears turn into pearls.” 

‘Ah… so that’s why you mentioned there being so many on the ship.’

But then it hit him. 

“Why were you crying?” 

You shrugged, “Most mermaids in protected waters can cry on command.  We get a lot of tourists that give us gifts, sometimes if we’re interested we’ll give them a pearl in return.” 

He nodded like he understood, but suddenly the beautiful gem felt heavy in his fist.  He opened his hand and offered it back, “As beautiful as it is, I don’t wish to see you shedding any tears while you’re under my care.” 

You pushed his outstretched hand away, “Well, I already made it.  There’s no use trying to return it.” 

“Still, I feel terrible receiving a gift with such painful origins,” he sat down on the stool that’d become his usual spot.  “I’m a doctor. My goal is to make sure you’re in the least amount of pain possible.” 

“You should feel honored, you’re really the first person I’ve ever given a pearl to,” you raised your head from its spot on your arms, “I usually only gave them to little kids that didn’t bring me gifts so I’d give them something.”  You sank further into the water in the shallow tub.

“My concern is why you believe you should be giving me gifts in the first place,” he crossed his left leg over his right, scooting in closer, “I’ve already told you that taking care of you has always been of my own volition.  It is quite literally my job.  If you’re giving this to me as a gift and not repayment, I might be more inclined to accept it.” 

You huffed,  “Well, I guess you caught me.” 

His brows furrowed, “So I was right, you’re trying to pay back a debt again.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

This time, he sighed.  “I’ve already told you, your health and wellbeing are both priceless.  I would never ask a patient I forced into care to pay me any sum of money-”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” The water rippled when you sat up suddenly, “Why don’t you want to accept any kind of payment? I’m tired of talking to you as property and owner.  You bought ownership, legally I’m your property. I don’t want to be your property.” 

“You aren’t my property-” He quipped, expression growing displeased.

“But I am,” you cut him off.  “You signed paperwork, you exchanged a certain sum of money.  Even if you thought I couldn’t hear you doesn’t mean I didn’t.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I still heard the captain of the ship talking about sale prices with you.  I know I was considered a higher quality product, I know I was expensive.”

The doctor opened his mouth; and closed it and opened it again.  He struggled to find the correct words to use. “I didn’t consider that an exchange for ownership of you, I considered that to be the price of your wellbeing.  I’ve never considered you to be anything but an equal to me.” 

You drew your lips into a tight line, “Well, if I was an equal, you’d let me contribute to the cost somehow.  You wouldn’t treat me like some helpless baby.”  You gestured to his closed palm, “The pearl in your hand is priceless, sealing a handful of them would recuperate the money you wasted-”

Luocha held up his hand, “Stop-”

But you insisted, “Hell, if I ripped a couple of scales out you could more than pay for me.  You’d have enough money to buy another sorry sack of shit to take care of-”

“Don’t EVER-” he cut you off aggressively, “EVER, suggest such ludacris things to me again.  I refuse to even think about it.” 

“..."

Luocha shook his head, getting his gloves wet when he reached into the water to hold your hands in his own, “I would never ask you to do something like that to yourself.  I would never ask you to hurt yourself to please me and I would never ask you to hurt yourself because you needed my help.”  He gave your palms a gentle squeeze, “You did not ask to be put in the position you’re in now,  I am the one that chose to do this and I will be the one to set the price on my help; that price-” he paused, making sure you were looking him in the eyes, “-will always be no price at all.”   He pushed the pearl back into your hands.  “Give this pearl to one of the children that visit the waters after you’ve healed up in my stead, yes?” 

“It’s not exactly how I remember it.” 

You squirmed against the sensation of the water, arms still looped around Luocha’s neck.  

“Any discomfort?” The doctor asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” You shuffled around to try and make yourself comfortable.  You did your best to find the familiar rhythm of the waves, but your tail felt as useless as it had the entire time you’d been confined to the bathtub.  “It’s… cold.” 

Luocha nodded... even though he couldn't quite understand.  “If you aren’t straining any of your injuries, you can hang on for as long as you need to.”

You mumbled, trying to draw your elbows closer to your chest, “I’m not.” 

“...”

“...”

It’d only been a week since the last time you’d tried to repay your imaginary debt to Luocha.  Things got… less tense between the two of you. 

You didn’t put up a fuss when he put some ointment on the scars that formed all over your skin.  You didn’t squirm when he unwrapped your shoulder bandage.  You’d usually bide your time silently in the bathtub.  Mostly, you’d nap.  But that got old quickly, especially since a bathtub isn’t the most convenient spot for sleeping. 

Luocha could tell you were bored out of your mind all on your lonesome. To satiate this, he’d usually sit with you in the bathroom and try to teach you things like how to play cards.  You were a little apprehensive with him, like you always were, but it seemed you opened up to him a lot more towards the end of your stay in his temporary residence.

You’d become a pretty competent blackjack player all things considered.

You opened up more and more about your life down below.  Usually, you’d be afraid to tell anyone about that information.  Smugglers often targeted specific pods if one of the products happened to be particularly pricy.  But Luocha wasn't at any risk, was he? 

“...”

“...”

Eventually, as the water started to feel more natural on your skin, you let your grip loosen from around his neck.  As the welcoming embrace of the ocean seemed to envelop more and more of your body, you could feel the former tension in your muscles start to melt away. 

You laid yourself horizontal to the surface of the water, tentatively starting to create your own ripples in the vast expanses of blue.  Maybe it didn’t feel exactly as you remembered, but the gentle pressure of the cool, cool sea against your skin felt like home. 

Your arms splayed out in the waves like an angel, basking in the familiarity of it all.  “You can let go now.” 

Slowly, surely, pale arms lowered you into the arms of the same waters you’d been in a little over two months ago.  You shocked yourself when you chased after his hands. Still, as slick as an eel, you slid away from him into the open ocean, finding a boyish glee in the pure ecstasy of true freedom.  

You took off like a little jet, head first into the deep end. 

Luocha could only really watch with a small smile while you explored the vast array of little treasures hidden beneath the horizon line.  

It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed when you re-emerged from beneath the ocean blue, but to your shock, the sun was starting to set and Luocha was off on dry land, wringing the water out of his hair.  

In all of your fun, it seemed you’d forgotten about that man who’d made all of this possible for you. 

“...”

You pursued him onto the sand, watching him characteristically tilt his head to the side to express his curiosity.  You pushed your own wet mop of hair out of your face with your hand, suddenly feeling a little less confident in your choices.  Despite your trepidation, you felt you at least owed him this much. 

That didn't make it any easier.

“I-” you swallowed, curling in on yourself, “What if I wanted to give you a gift? If it wasn’t some kind of repayment?” 

He smiled, flipping a soaked lock of hair over his shoulder, “As long as you aren’t lying to me about repayment, then I would gladly accept.”

You suddenly felt a new wave of confidence wash over you, your chest puffing up a little bit, “Well, I have a gift for you.” Even though you failed to notice your little finned ears wiggling in excitement, Luocha did not. 

You reached up to your right ear, unhooking the beautiful golden earring that’d you'd been wearing since you’d been thrown out of protective waters.

His eyes widened.   

“It-” You offered the hoop to him, “It was my mom’s.”

Luocha blinked a couple times, staring at the bangle before looking back up at your face instead.  

“Well?  You said you’d accept it if it was a gift.”  You pushed it into his face, feeling a red hot flush wash over your features, “This is a gift; from me to you, no strings attached.” 

He carefully took the thin gold loop in his fingers.  He noticed the signs of oxidation and the water damage. 

It was already far less valuable than the pearl you’d tried to offer him.

Yet its sentimental value was unrivaled. 

“...”

“...”

“Did... your mother like jewelry?”

You shrugged, looking away from him, “Yeah, she had a lot of it from my dad.” 

Luocha nodded.  “Well, did she have a favorite kind of jewelry?” 

At this, you paused.  “I mean… I guess she did.  She wore a lot of rings… why?” 

“Well, since this is a gift I won’t refuse it,- Luocha slid one of the golden bands wrapped around his fingers off,  “-but if you can’t have her earring anymore, then you can at least have a piece of jewelry your mother would’ve liked to wear.”

You felt your face transition from an embarrassed pink to a much deeper red.  “You… you know what you’re offering me, r-right?” 

He didn’t respond in the way you expected.  Instead of his usual confusion, he pushed the ring towards you again with one hand.  The other went to work, looping the clasp of the earring through a piercing that was just a little bit too close to closing.  

It felt like your brain was melting.

‘Is he… flirting with me?’ 

You took the golden ring between your fingers, watching him use his newly freed hand to further force the earring through the piercing hole. You could only feel the heat creep up your neck to your ears; fuck, it felt like you were going to burn alive on the sand. 

When he finally got it in, he flipped a chunk of wet hair over his shoulder.  He framed the golden hoop with his palm.  Playfully, he asked, “How does it look?” 

‘...’

‘He’s definitely flirting.’ 

You immediately ripped your gaze from his face to the ring that suddenly felt like a hundred pounds in your palm. 

‘...What fingers do humans usually put the ring on again?’

Shakily you slid the golden ring onto your left hand, examining the way it glinted in the light of the sunset.  

‘...holy shit, did I just get married?’ 

“[name]?” 

You blinked a couple times, suddenly ripping your gaze away from the shiny metal.  “Sorry, sorry.” 

He chuckled at your expense, enjoying the little fluttering of your ears everytime he seemed to catch your attention again.  “Thank you for the gift, I’ll cherish it dearly.” 

You nodded. 

“...”

“...”

The silence was interrupted with a quiet sniffle. 

“...[name]?”

You aggressively wiped the tear off your face, watching the consequent pearl roll across the grains of sand.  “H-Hey, you can’t just give me this ring and leave-” You took a deep breath, “-That’s not fair, that’s not fair at all.” 

He was a little taken aback at the sudden resurgence of emotion, “Would…” he paused.  He thought it over before tentatively putting a hand on your shoulder, “Would it help if I stayed a little longer?” 

You shook your head, putting your hand over the one on your shoulder to hold it between both of your own hands.  “You have to promise to visit me a lot.  It’s going to take me a long time to find my family, so if you don’t visit I’m going to be lonely.” 

He, once again caught off guard, nodded, “O-Of course!” His own cheeks tinted a pale pink. 

“You promise?” 

He nodded again, this time using his other hand to clasp your hand in both of his.  “I promise I’ll visit.”

a side note for this upcoming section: i did a lot of world-building for this fic behind the scenes, the current planet they're on is largely submerged beneath the waters and they live on a bunch of island nations. To link up with that idea, my idea of the mermaid smuggling industry is to do with the concept of foreigners coming in and destroying local ecosystems. (Colonization)

Long story short, the planet is loosely based on Polynesian Islands so I chose Māori names for our supporting cast but keep in mind I am FAR from an expert and I mean literally no disrespect at all to anyone at all. Only the names are Māori in nature because I feel like no matter how much research I do, I would be unable to capture the essence of the rich culture of New Zealand. I'm a little gay fanfic writer I have not done nearly enough research to claim I know ANYTHING, I just thought it'd be cool and help with world-building in case people want a part-two or something

“What’s got you so worked up?” 

“Shut the fuck up Iarere, this is like the seventh time in the same hour.” 

Your younger brother held his hands up defensively, “Well, things got boring around here without you!”  He let himself fall towards the ground next to the boulder you’d splayed out all the little pieces of gold you’d managed to scrounge up.  “You manage to make it back from outside of protective waters and instead of hating everything and everyone, you’re suddenly getting all buddy buddy with the tourists trying to get some trinkets.  I know you’re old but are you really getting that desperate?” 

You frowned, “I’m not that old.” 

Iarere rested his face on the cool surface of the rock, prodding at one of the particularly flashy necklaces.  “You’re old to me.”  

Your frown deepened. Not just because your brother was calling you old, but because Luocha’s weekly visit was coming up and you hadn’t managed to gather up nearly as much as you would’ve wanted.   For your kind, caring, doctor husband who was already well off, a few necklaces and a handful of rings and earrings wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to woo him.  “I guess I am getting towards the end of the usual age people get married at.” 

The younger man nodded, humming, “Yeah, so do you have anyone in mind?” 

You bit your lip.  

I mean, yes, you were married. 

But it felt inauthentic if you didn’t present your husband with some kind of dowry first. 

Yes, Luocha only presented you with one of his old rings, but he also paid a hefty sum to rescue you from certain doom.  He also nursed you back to good health, refused to take any payment for any of the medical treatments or the food that’d been wasted making sure you’d retain your strength throughout your recovery. 

In your mind, maybe human dowries were just a little bit different. 

Despite opening your mouth to voice your dissent, your little brother jumped up at the opportunity to tease you.  “So you do have someone you’re thinking about!” 

“I-” 

“What are they like?” Iarere gripped your shoulders, tearing your attention away from your inner dilemma.  “What do they look like? Do I know them?”  He gasped, shaking you back and forth and he demanded to know, “Did you meet them while you were outside?!” 

You gripped at his shoulders in return, “I didn’t say I had anyone in mind!” 

“...”

“...”

He pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m not buying it.” 

You groaned, bringing your hands up to your face.

He only got more excited, leaning in way too close for comfort as he squealed, “So I was right?!” 

“Right about what?” 

Your eyes darted over to the side, watching one of the few friends you’d managed to retain at your grown age.  “Thank the gods, Akahata, get Iarere off me before he gives me whiplash.” 

He hummed, “Well, I’m more interested in what exactly you guys were talking about before.”  You watched as his eyes flitted from you and your brother to all the precious metal and gems you’d laid out.  “Actually don’t tell me, let me guess.”  He pointed at the rock, “You’re setting up a dowry, but you’re upset because you know no amount of jewelry would ever get anyone in the pod to consider settling down with your ugly mug.”

“HAH!” 

Your ears fluttered in irritation.  “That’s a horrible guess.” 

Akahata shrugged, “Well, I mean, your mug’s only ugly cause you frown all the time.  If you actually made an effort to smile more, you’d probably have a lot more people that’d be willing to accept you with no dowry.” 

Your frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you massaged your temples, “For your information, I’m making a dowry cause I already got married.” 

“...”

“...’

“...”

“You WHAT?!” 

Iarere’s fists clenched even tighter around your biceps, “You told me you lost mom’s earring, not that you got married-” 

“It’s a long story-” You started, 

“Not long enough to not tell either of us!” Your best friend screamed in abject horror.  “The moment Ngaio and I started courting each other I told you immediately-”  You grimaced when he pushed your brother out of the way to be the one to shake you back and forth, “-and you get married and you don’t tell me until afterwards?!” 

“It wasn’t planned! I didn’t even realize he was courting me until he gave me his ring-” You countered, face lighting up pink.

“So it’s a him…” Iarere mumbled, putting his hand to his chin.  His expression lit up as the pieces started clicking together in his head.  “Is that where you’re going tomorrow?!” 

“YOU’RE GOING TO MEET HIM TOMORROW?!” 

You were growing more overwhelmed by the minute, averting eye contact.  “Yeah, so what? We’ve been meeting up every week while I was looking for you guys.  Is it weird for husbands to spend time together?” 

Akahata abruptly let go of you, leaving red imprints of his hands on your arms.  “That’s not that problem, that problem-” he paused for dramatic effect, “-is that you’re planning on meeting up with him after returning and you’re not even telling us who he is!” 

Iarere put a hand over his heart, feigning his disappointment as he let himself sink into the sand below.  “I think I’m going to faint.” 

You sighed, “Well-”

Akahata jabbed an accusatory finger in your chest again, “Is he even good looking enough for you? Is he any good at providing? What was his dowry like?  What pod is he even from?!”

“He’s not from a pod-”

Your brother hummed, “So is he a lone wanderer out beyond the boundaries of protected waters saving pretty mermen he wants to marry?” 

Your face twisted into one of disgust, “Keep your fantasies to yourself.” 

Iarere huffed, “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you say he’s not from a pod?  He obviously has so be some kind of lone wolf, PLUS you got married before you made it back.” 

Akahata put a contemplative hand under his chin, “I mean he has a point.” 

You shook your head, “He’s a human.” 

“...” 

“...” 

“...”

“You’re joking.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re joking…” 

You held up your hand, gesturing towards the ring on your finger. 

“Oh my god, you’re not actually joking.” 

Your younger brother squealed, “Oh my god this is like something out of all those movies on the surface! Tell me all about it!” 

You frowned, pushing through both your peers to make it back to your makeshift table top.  “He’s… a doctor, but he was working as a trader on a big ship.   He was there the night I got caught and he ended up buying me off the boat and he patched me up and released me.” 

Your best friend sighed, “Only you can make a story that romantic sound like a business deal.” 

Iarere furrowed his brows, “Wait, wait, wait, when did he propose?” 

“Well-” You fumbled over your words, “I caught feelings and I thought I might as well start the courtship process-” 

“YOU made the first move?!” 

“Shut up!” You pushed your overly eager younger brother’s face away, “I didn’t know if he even knew about mermaid courting so if I was going to start courting him, I had to do it then.”

“...go on.”

You sighed, “I gave him mom’s old earring, but instead of just taking it, he gave me one of the rings he was wearing.” You covered your face, feeling another wave of crimson wash everywhere from your neck to the tips of your ears.  You still couldn’t get the memory of him showing off the earring out of your fucking head. “I mean- I- I even asked if he knew what offering me his ring meant and he just put it in my hand.” 

Your younger brother kicked around on the sand eagerly, waving his hands around excitedly.  “That is actually one of THE most romantic proposals I’ve ever heard of!” 

Akahata crossed his arms, “Damn, I feel like mine was lacking.” 

You huffed, “Well, Ngaio is still your wife.” 

“And whatever his face is still managed to wife you--of all people--up.”

“Touche.”

“Oh wow, you brought more than you usually do.” 

Luocha chuckled behind his hand, his own little bag of purchased trinkets hanging loosely at his side. 

You hummed, thumbing over the beautiful glistening stone of a diamond necklace you’d managed to get off of a rather infamous regular.  “You’re one to talk.” 

He gave a small grunt of exertion as he sat next to you on the sand, letting the bag fall to the side, “You’ve got me there.”  He couldn’t help the pleasant swell of warmth in his face as you gestured for him to turn around. 

I mean, maybe you weren’t the best at communicating what you were feeling or what you wanted from him, but you’d been getting better.  Instead of just grunting a yes or no to the questions he’d ask, you’d actually make time for some conversation with him.  Be it from your annoying younger brother to the changes in the pod since you’d returned, it seemed you shared what little woes you had with Luocha.  

You also seemed to share endless amounts of little golden treasures with him.  From old, worn gold, oxidized iron, anything really that you could find, you provided it to him and put it on him with the most delicate touch your rough, scarred hands could muster.  Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something.  He couldn’t control the way his heart sped up whenever you leaned in to help him put on a new pair of earrings you’d gifted him.  He surmised gift giving was some kind of love language that was common among merfolk.  Perhaps you’d also enjoy it if he brought you gifts of equal value! 

Still, the pounding in his heart was not helped when you’d started smiling at him. 

Everytime he managed to catch one of the rare glimpses of your smile–even worse when you’d laugh–he almost felt like he was looking at something forbidden.  Something he wasn’t worthy of, right in front of him.  For someone who had been through so much, you really opened up to him remarkably quickly after you’d been released.  Perhaps before release you’d been scared of being sold off? The familiar feeling of the waters must’ve don wonders to make you relax this much. 

Even worse when the physical affection began.  It started as simple as reaching out to the side of his face to brush the hair away from his ear so you could catch sight of the golden hoop he’d taken to wearing.   It transitioned to taking his gloves off so you could look at the rings you ended up gifting him.   Before he could really process how quickly the two of you were moving, you were pressed up against him at every opportunity.  

He knew it was natural for merfolk to not wear clothing, but did you have to have such a muscular chest? 

Even now, as you fumbled with the clasp of the absolutely beautiful diamond necklace, you wrapped an equally muscular aquatic tail around his leg.  He didn’t exactly know if this was normal between merfamily-could he call them that?--, being overly affectionate.   Even if it felt like a little more than just normal bonding, he did his best to still the pounding of his heart when your fingers brushed his hair out of the way so you could make sure the gem was oriented correctly.  

Trying his hardest to quell the tide of warmth surging up to the tips of his ears, he put a hand over his erratic heartbeat.  He prayed to the Aeons above you couldn’t feel it as your chest pressed against his back.  

You wrapped your arms snug around his torso, pulling him further into your stomach.  Resting your chin on top of his blonde hair, you found the gloved hand resting over his heart to hold in your own.   The two of you let the silence hang in the air for a moment. 

“...”

“...”

You gave a quiet huff before you moved your chin from on top of his head to bury itself into the crook of his neck.  As his fingers interlocked with yours, he found himself looking at all the gold rings he’d adorned your fingers with.  Each and every one, he could put a time and day to. 

But then, his eyes landed on your ring finger. 

“Oh, you still wear that old thing?”

“...hm?”

You glanced down at your hand, raising a brow.  His finger was tracing over the ring he’d exchanged when he was releasing you back into the open water.

“You still wear the same earring I gave you,” you murmured, flicking it with your freehand.  “I’ve given you countless pairs of earrings since, yet even when you wear one stud, you’ll always wear the same one every time I see you.” 

His chest rumbled with a bout of laughter, “I suppose you’re right.”  He perked up suddenly, “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of this earring…” He reached towards the rather large bag of gifts he’d brought with him.  He threw a few of the boxes of gold ornaments he’d purchased before finally fishing the box he was looking for out of the bottom.  “I went shopping and when I saw this pair, I simply knew you’d love it.” 

You hummed, looking at the little navy blue box in his hand.

He made quick work of the bow wrapped around the holding case, nimble fingers peeling open the little box before he presented you with his gift on their signature velvet cushion. It looked like… 

…a replica of your mother’s earrings. 

He offered them up to you with a bashful smile, watching in silent amusement when your ears flicked back and forth in some kind of excitement. 

Delicately, gently, you picked up one of the hoops and twirled it around your fingers. 

“...”

“...”

“...Well? Do you like it?”

You didn’t respond, reaching up to your right ear to remove the little stud you’d chosen to wear to this outing.  Fidgeting with the clasp of the loop, you threaded it with a calculated ease through your piercing.   

“I like it.” 

He clasped his hands together, “Good, I’m more than glad.” 

“...”

“...”

“She would’ve loved to meet you.” 

“Hm?”

You paused, “My mother, I mean,” Your thumb fidgeted with the back of the earring.  “She always wanted to see her sons get married, but she passed before she could.” 

Luocha blinked.  

“Pardon?” 

You tilted your head to the side, “My mother; she would’ve loved to meet you.” 

“No, no,” Luocha could feel the deep claret paint his face a messy red as he scooted to face you, “What did you mean by seeing her sons get married?”

“...

…Did you not know?” 

Luocha blinked. 

“We’re married.” 

Another blink. 

“You… Is that why…?” He gestured towards the gifts strewn across the sand.  He looked back towards his own bag of gifts. 

‘Oh for crying out loud-’

“I-” he cleared his throat, “I apologize, I seem to have… entered this marriage under false pretenses.”  He put his hands on his temples, “How- Where- When exactly did this happen?”

You hummed, “When you let me back out into the water.  When I gifted you my mother’s earring, that was the signal I wanted to start courting you.  When you gift something back, that’s an officiation of marriage.” 

He coughed into his hand, trying to think through this situation logically. 

Okay, so he accidentally got married.

What the fuck. 

The train of thought seemed to end there. 

…

He was, however, plagued with another train of thought. 

‘Well, you have been making eyes at him for a few months now.’ 

…

Those thoughts were not helping.  

“...”

“...”

“If you want to end the marriage, it’s as simple as saying so,” you added, “I thought you knew what my intentions were-”

“NO!”

Luocha covered the bottom half of his mouth.  “I’m fine with the arrangement as is, but it appears human marriage and merfolk marriage are officiated in very different ways.” 

Your brows furrowed. 

“...”

“...”

“...Are you saying you want to officiate the marriage as humans would?”

The tips of Luocha’s ears burned with embarrassment.  “I-” 

You held one of his hands in yours, eyes seemingly boring holes into his face,  “Whatever it is, as long as you want to do it, I will do it to the best of my ability.” 

Any complaints were silenced when he was confronted with such sincerity.  “Well…”

You waited patiently, folding your hands in your lap.  

Finally, it seemed your “husband” made up his mind.  

“Close your eyes.” 

You paused, seemingly surprised, but nonetheless your eyes fluttered shut moments after. 

Luocha urged himself to breathe, flexing and unflexing his hands.  

He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he…

…planted an innocent peck on your lips.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" idk how to describe it but now being on the other side of this, i'm feeling something similar to post nut clarity "

first post since losing literally everything on my first account yay !!

yes guys, luocha and his mermaid husband were openly cuddling on the beach for months and he's wondering "is he into me or am i bro-zoned"

that being said, losing my tumblr has now forced me to realize how many people genuinely like my writing hey guys I went scrolling through user kamisatoelogy's blog to look for their modern ayato fic and i found out someone dedicated time and effort into archiving my works???? and you guys went looks for me????

i fr feel like getting on my hands and knees and thanking everyone for all their support and love over this process and apologizing for scaring you guys so bad

you guys are so sweet and so many of you have been so helpful in getting my blog back up and running again :((

i started drafting my fics in google docs to make sure it isn't all GONE if i get shit on again so this chapter is brought to you by font: unica one, it was 27 pages total (i am insane)

shout out to Chappell Roan cause she really put me in my tunnel vision work zone while i was writing this

if u guys r looking for a writing hack, i trained myself like a sleeper agent to start writing when i play songs on hour loop it puts me in a work rut

- love, operator t-19

[friendsoup]

HEYYY I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE MEDI IM SOBBING AAAA- could you write something with medi getting hurt in some way, and reader patches them up? :>

Boo-Boos

Recipe: Not strictly romantic, Medi is implied to have romantic feelings for reader, Reader's feelings are up to you, Medi x Reader, GN! Reader, APPle and Regulus ship it, Clumsy! Reader, Oblivious! Reader, Medi is a tsundere. Sorry.

WC: 1,351

Chef's Note: SOOOO.... I may have read this prompt wrong the first time.... So you get the best of both worlds! Medi patches up reader, and then reader patches up Medi! I hope you enjoy!

You always manage to get in the worst situations. Perhaps it was because you’re naturally clumsy. Or maybe it was just due to dumb luck. Whatever the case, tragedy always seemed to befall you. Whether it be knocks to the head, tripping over nothing, or scars you had no clue the origins of. Today was no different. You were on patrol, fighting critters for the timekeeper, when your legs got twisted with each other, and you fell. You were lucky that your teammates covered your slack, though you’d managed to get quite the hefty scrape on your chin. Not that it bothered you, though. You’d suffered greater scrapes and bumps in your time, and were convinced you’d be fine on your own. Regulus was the one to change your mind on that. “You’ll be no use to us if your wounds are all infected!” She argued, as the two of you walked back to the suitcase. “You should go see Medicine Pocket! They’re a doctor!” “I’m sure just a few bandaids will cover me.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck. “Does it really look that bad?” “You’re bleeding!” Regulus exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “If you get sick, then your chores will fall onto my shoulders!” You laughed at that. Though she was right. Getting sick was a good way to throw off the entire balance of the team, and you didn’t want to be a burden to the timekeeper.a

“Besides, if you go see Medi, you might get some special treatment.” She elbowed you in the side, the action only shooting more pain up your ribs. “What do you mean by that?” You asked, your eyebrows drawing up in genuine confusion. 

Regulus just stood there for a moment, stunned that you didn’t understand her words. 

“What the Captain is meaning to say, is that Dr.Medicine Pocket is awfully fond of you.” APPle pipes up, floating behind the two of you. “Perhaps, if you are to visit their room, they can provide you with a better experience than our other healers can.”

“Medi is fond of me?” You ask, blinking. “No way! They’re always so mean…” That simply earns a groan out of Regulus, who shakes her head. “God, you’re just like Vertin! I can’t stand it sometimes!” “You should visit Dr.Medicine Pocket anyways, and confirm for yourself.” APPle encourages. You nod. If even the reasonable APPle agrees, then perhaps there’s some merit in what Regulus is saying.

And so, you make your way through the suitcase, down to Medicine Pocket’s laboratory. It’s quite easy to find, following the sounds of dog’s barking and the sterile smell of medical equipment. It’s a path you’ve walked before, many times. “Medi, are you here?” You call from the doorway. Instinctively, you rub at your chin, cringing when you glance back at your hand. That’s a lot of blood. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in the middle of something. Can you come back-” They dismissively wave to you, before looking up from their work. “Holy fuck!” “Haha! Hi!” You smile and wave. “[Y/N]. What the fuck did you do?” They hiss, standing from their seat and making their way over to you. They grab you by the shoulders, pulling you into their room, before pushing you down on the examining table. “I tripped!” You explain. “Down a fucking cliff? You look like shit!” Medi shakes their head, digging through their supplies. They return with a handful of cotton balls, alcohol wipes, and bandages. “Just on some pavement. I did slide a bit though, which is probably why I look so rough.” You admit, glancing somewhere else. Anywhere but Medi’s disappointed look.

“Fucking dumbass.” They sigh, pulling on new gloves, before picking up a cotton ball with tweezers. “You’ve got to be careful.” They bend to your height. Muttering a quiet,”Lift your chin now.” Their breath hot on your cheek. You obey, feeling a bit flustered with how close they are to you. Gently, they dab the cotton on your wound, soaking in the blood and wiping it away. It feels weird against your skin, both soft and cold. The intensity of Medi’s gaze makes your heart speed up, which you pray they can’t notice.

“I try!” You protest, squirming slightly in your seat. “It’s just difficult. Y’know? These things happen without me trying!” Medi grumbles something inaudible before responding. “It doesn’t seem like you’re trying, when you come into my office nearly every day with a new injury. I have important work to do, y’know? I can’t spend all my time with you.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, feeling a great sense of guilt fill you. Medi grumbles something else, before wiping down your wound and sticking a bandage on it. With that done, they get up and begin working on something else, completely leaving you alone.

…

A month has passed, and the two of you haven’t spoken a great deal since your accident. You’ve been managing to handle yourself, and Medi has been too busy with work to come out of their shell. However, the two of you are now on patrol, preparing the last things for the Storm.

Medi walks ahead while you trail behind, your mind wandering in the other direction. Neither of you say a word, you haven’t since you left the suitcase. You don’t particularly mind though, the silent walk is nice. Medi stops suddenly in their tracks, their eyes focusing on something else. You, who’s attention is far away from what’s in front of you, don’t notice, continuing to walk forward. You bump into Medi, and they trip while trying to steady themselves, falling on their knees. “Ow! Shit!” They hiss, scrambling to a sit. You jump back, trying to comprehend what just happened. “Ah! Medi!” You exclaim, dropping to a kneel besides them. “Fuck, I’m sorry! Are you okay?” “I’m fine, asshole.” They cradle their knee, wiping a bit of blood from their scrape. “I have bandages in my lab. I’ll fix it myself-” “I can help!” You argue, digging through your pockets. Out come a crumpled bandaid, and a package containing an alcohol wipe. “Here- I have these! Let me help!” Medi blinks. “Since when did you start caring about first aid?” They ask tilting their head. “Well, last time I showed up at your office, you seemed a bit mad! So I learned how to clean and bandage my own scrapes, so I wouldn’t bother you again!” You respond, giving a smile. “Now, roll up your pant leg, I’ll clean the wound.” Medi obeys, though they seem lost in thought. “Oh.” Their voice is a bit forlorn, as they glance away from you. You fiddle with the packaging of the alcohol wipe, completely oblivious to their expression. “You know I don’t mind you stopping by every once in a while.” “What was that?” You ask, pressing the wipe to the scrape. Medi nearly jumps out of their skin. “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it! God damn it, that stings! And here I am, trying to have a moment with you! Fuck!” “Uh. Sorry.” You mutter, removing the wipe from their skin. “I’ll just put the bandage on now.” Guilt fills your chest. You didn’t mean to make them worse. 

“No, I…” Medi sighs. “Thank you for your help. You saved me some supplies.” They rub the back of their neck, struggling to focus their eyes on you.

The smile returns to your lips. “Oh! I forgot to do one last thing!” You exclaim, after smoothing the bandage out on their skin. You press a quick kiss to the top of the bandaid. “All better!” Medi jumps again, this time to their feet. Their face is tomato red, their eyes frantically looking back and forth. “I-I think we should call it here!” They exclaim, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’ve got lots to work on, y’know? And Vertin is only going to sponsor me so long without any progress!” They turn around, and begin to run off, leaving you sitting there. Confused. What did you do this time?

[foxy-eva]

Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner Holiday Headcanons

for @coastalchutoy as part of my New Year's Celebration

After Spencer finished knitting the scarf for his Doctor Who cosplay he starts working on a Christmas sweater for Aaron. It takes him a long time since they spend a lot of time with each other and he wants to keep it a secret, but he finishes it right before the holidays.

Aaron is genuinely happy about the surprise and wears the sweater every chance he gets.

To everyone's surprise, Aaron actually wears the sweater to the holiday party at the BAU (even though it is hideous).

Aaron knows that Spencer didn't really celebrate Christmas as a child due to his mother's illness, so he really wants him to feel loved around the holidays. They spend as much quality time as possible.

The first time Aaron and Spencer go on a walk to look at all the decorated houses in the neighborhood, it warms both of their hearts to be able to spend this time of year together.

Spencer quickly becomes part of every holiday tradition Aaron has with his son. Spencer is there to decorate the tree with them, to go visit Santa in the mall and to bake cookies.

Even though Spencer helped packing all the present, he still displays a similar child-like wonder in his eyes as Jack when the whole family enters the living room on Christmas morning.

On New Year's Eve Spencer confesses to Aaron that he had never had a New Year's kiss before. Of course that would change that night.

Author's Note: I made this post for my current celebration. Please note that I don't usually take requests for mlm ships!

[hagfishgirlslime]

Hi, I’m an autistic trans girl living in an incredibly unhealthy household. I’m struggling with debilitating depression, anxiety, and other serious mental health issues too personal to list here. These symptoms have been unbearable for the past few months. Nobody in this household cares for my health. I haven’t even been able to get a ride to the doctor for any of my health problems (walking isn’t an option either, I would risk collapsing).

I can’t keep staying in this environment. I genuinely do not think I can go on here, and each week often feels like the last I’ll be able to endure. My only option, aside from facing homelessness, is to move across the country to live with my girlfriend and her family, but we’re both completely broke. I am not physically capable of working and have no other way of getting the money for this.

We’re still trying to figure out exactly how this is going to work, but we’re going to need to cover the price of a plane ticket, a few cabs to get me to the airport and the post office, shipping fees to send my belongings to my gf’s house, a backpack to carry things with me on the flight, and food to last me until the move. And there’ll probably end up being more than that as complications arise. Altogether, it’ll probably end up being a few hundred dollars.

I really, really hate the idea of asking for help like this, but I genuinely have no other options. I just have to get out as soon as I can.

Any amount helps, and I really appreciate every little bit that gets sent. If you can’t help out, please reblog and spread the word so more people can see it! Please don’t stretch yourself too thin.

C@$happ: $marbledcrayfish

My girlfriend’s P*ypal: carmenifold (if CA doesn’t work. goes directly to my move)

[claimedcrossbows]

Served! Sanji x Fem!Reader pt. 3 (Finale?)

Anime Spoilers/Foreshadowing

It took a while gathering all of the ingredients and of course teaching Sanji how to prepare the dish, but you were once again surprised with how fast he picked up on things, maybe even a little bit jealous, but of course you’d never tell him that.

“How did you learn these recipes?” He asked while mixing the soup until all of the ingredients were combined and ready to stew.

You sighed, “My grandmother owned this restaurant and happened to be one of those individuals that never quite trusted doctors you know? And after the passing of my mother all faith in doctors went out the window and she decided to make her own medicines, which through lots of trial and error actually turned out to do wonders. Next thing she knew sailors of all sorts were coming to the restaurant just for her healing recipes ,which of course made business boom.” You explained.

Sanji continued the soup but his focus was completely locked onto you as you talked.

“Eventually she started researching numerous other recipes that she heard whispers about from many people passing through and as I got older she eventually taught those recipes to me in hopes that I would not only become a great chef, but a great healer as well and of course always look out for my sister.” You explained.

Sanji gives you a warm smile, “Well you seem to be a great big sister, she couldn’t stop boasting about how amazing you were as she assisted me.” He revealed.

You smile at that, “I’m sure she thinks i’m a pain at times, but it’s all for her benefit, all we have is each other.” You say as a sad smile glosses over your lips.

You both fall into a silence as the aroma of the soup begins to fill the room in a way that immediately relaxes you, it reminds you so much of her.

“What about you, Why is a cook as good as you on a pirate ship?” You asked curiously.

He gently laughs, “It’s a long story, but to cut it short, I want to find the All Blue.” He says simply as he sets a timer for the soup and sits himself by you on the counter.

Your eyes widen at this, you had heard that name many times from your grandmother, you were convinced that if she hadn’t had to raise you and your sister, she probably would’ve set out to find it herself.

“You think it’s real?” You ask genuinely.

“It has to be.” He says.

“You sound like my grandmother, she always told me tales about a exotic sea filled with all sorts of sea life, weeds, plants..truly a cooks paradise.” You smiled remembering her enthusiasm.

“And i’m going to find it.” Sanji says sounding self assured, something you noticed he was quite often.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck..but I found it’s best not to get your hopes up on things, that will save you a lot of heartache.” You advised.

“Speaking from experience?” He questions gently not wanting to pry but ever so curious.

“My Grandmother tried her best to save my mother, in the end, nothing she did worked, and she couldn’t set out to sea to find the all blue, so not everyone dreams get fulfilled right?” You say.

“What’s your dream?” He asks his gaze lingering.

“Well right now it’s to get this soup done so your hungry captain can leave my restaurant.” You say bluntly.

Sanji laughs, “Fair, but really what is it?”

Your about to respond but your sister comes in hurriedly, “Y/N, another letters arrived, I think it’s from him again.” She says frowningly.

You sigh opening the letter giving it a quick scan before tearing it right down the middle.

“Everything okay?” Sanji questions.

You shrug, “It’s nothing, anyway this soup should be ready in a few hours i’m going to the study, make sure you give it a stir every once in a while.” You say lifting yourself off the counter and walking upstairs to your study leaving your sister and Sanji by themselves.

-

You sighed looking over numerous papers on your desk and you groaned clutching your head at the ever forming headache that was approaching.

A knock on your door once again snapped you out of your thoughts as you yelled for whoever it was to come in.

To your surprise you saw your little sister, “Y/n, thought I should tell you the soup is ready, Sanji wanted to know was there any particular way he should serve it to his friend?” She asks you.

“Add in a pinch of chili flakes, it’ll help that lady sweat out that fever.” You advise.

Your sister nods and goes to leave before stopping, “Was the letter from earlier him?” She asks hesistantly.

You look up at her and nod, “Yes, but not to worry it’s fine.” You say smoothily, even though your head ache was at full spin.

She observes your desk of papers and frowns, “Are those all bills..?” She hesistantly asks.

“And a sprinkle of shut off notices.” You mutter.

“Y/N, maybe I should reply back to him if it help-”

You slam a hand directly on the table, it’s sound reverbing and echoing though the walls, causing your sister to flinch back. “Absolutely not, I said I have this handled, besides with our new ranking in the papers by the critic i’m sure business will pick up again soon.” You explained.

“But this guy sounds very rich and I hear he’s sailing close by I mean would it hurt to at least hear what he says?” Your sister meakly asks.

You scoff, “Marigold, do you want to be a chef?” You ask her plainly and bluntly searching her taken aback face as you stand and approach her.

“You know I want nothing else-” ”Then act like it, and trust me when I say I have everything handled-”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but Y/N you can’t do everything by yourself-”

“I’m not,I have you don’t I?” You ask.

Your sister shoots you an unreadable blank stare her head facing down as she speaks lowly, “All i’m saying is maybe accepting this man’s proposal wouldn’t be such a bad thing..” She breathes.

You freeze at this, “Are you trying to become a bride?” You say baffled at your sisters sudden attitude, for as long as you could remember your sister did nothing but exclaim about being a chef like your Grandma, absolutely swearing off any type of boy that came her way, saying she had no time to be someone’s housewife, but now she was staring at you with the most crestfallen of faces, all passion deprived of those youthful and ambitious eyes that helped you get out of bed in the morning to face another day, because you wanted nothing more than to help her anyway you could.

“All i’m saying is maybe i’m not cut out to be a chef..I mean I did give you all food poisoning right?” She says her shifting to one of accusation and anger.

“How did you-”

“You weren’t gonna tell me were you?” She cuts you off.

“Marigold your young and you make mistakes-”

“Food posioning an entire staff and my own sister is not a mistake any chef worth knowing should make!” She bites back her voice shaky as tears slowly start to cascade down her face.

Your own anger immerges, “You are not running off to some strange rich man, and you are not quitting this restaurant.” Your tone trembly as you fiercely raised your voice.

She says nothing.

“Do I make myself clear?” You bite.

Nothing.

“I said, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” You bite again.

She nods.

“Good, now go tell Sanji what I told you.” You say brushing past her to open the door to usher her out, but once again your stunned to see someone already at the door.

“Sanji.” You breathe.

“Uh..I heard yelling so I came up..” He says looking at the two of you.

Between your angered expression and your sisters tear stained face, you could only imagine the sight the two of you were.

“Well..” You breathe trying to regain your composure, “Did you hear the part about the chili flakes?”

He says nothing, but nods looking worriedly between the two of you.

“Well good, get to it then, best to serve that soup while it’s still piping hot.” You say walking past him before any of them could utter a reply.

-

A few days later the energetic and very strange Straw Hat Crew was ready to make its departure as your soup had managed to help their friend Nami enough so that they could reach the drum kingdom for further medical assistance.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH CROCK POT LADY FOR SAVING NAMI!” Luffy yells engulfing you in a giant hug that nearly cracked your bones.

“Would you get off her!?” Sanji yells kicking him off of you.

He gets flown off you and you let out a big exhale happy to be able breathe again.

Sanji laughs lightly, “I apologize again for him.” He says softly.

You shake your head, “Eh, he’s kind of rubbed off on me, plus he’s eaten all the leftovers so we haven’t wasted any food.” You shrug.

“Yeah we definitely don’t have to worry about wasting food with Luffy around.”He agrees.

You laugh but smiles warmly, “Well I wish your friend the best of luck I hope she feels better.”

He returns the smile but you could see a certain unease on his face, “Thank you, really for everything, If there’s anything I can do to repay you in the future, if you need any help-”

“Have you been talking to my sister?” You sigh, “We don’t need any help, but thanks for the offer.” You say shutting him down completely.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it didn’t sound like everything was okay..” He says.

“Financial troubles go hand and hand with restaurants, i’m sure Zeff’s told you that, but thanks to you with this new great review of us in the paper, i’m sure business will pick up soon.”

He looks at you uncertainly but nods anyway, “Well madam, I wish you the best of luck as well someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t have to frown so much.” his tone sincere as he shoots you a playful wink.

“Alright Casanova.” You say rolling your eyes, “I think your captain’s waiting for you.” You say pointing to Luffy looking over at the both of you from the ship.

“SANJI we got to go!” Luffy yells.

“COMING!” Sanji yells back as he turns back to you.

“Well I guess this is farewell.” He says giving you another one of his shiny smiles that reminded you very much of early morning sunrises.

You nod but then remember, “Oh wait, I actually have a parting gift for you.” You say reaching into your rucksacks pocket.

“But you already saved Nami?” He asked confused.

“Yeah, but your going after the all blue right?” You ask.

He nods.

“Well take these with you.” You say handing him a bunch of books, he observes them and quickly realizes what they were, his heart rate picking up as he looks back up at you with a look that almost makes your heart skip a beat as well.

“Are these..?” He says in disbelief.

“My grandmothers healing recipes.” You answered.

He looks beyond bemused as he quickly shakes his head, “ Darling, I cannot possibly accept this, don’t you need them?” He asks.

You shake your head, “I have those in particular memorized by heart, so I figured you can use them on your journey to find the all blue with your friends, but I am going to want those back someday, preferably after you find the all blue and give me some of those rare ingredients.” You cheekily smile.

He’s speechless, “Well how will I find you?”

“Ah, that’s an easy one, here.” You say handing him a blank piece of paper.

“What is it?” He questions looking at it.

“A vivre card, my vivre card in particular so where ever you are in the world, if you wish to seek me out, it’ll point you to where I am.” You explain.

He gently tucks the card in with the recipe books and gently but firmly grasps both of your hands bringing them up to his lips in a gentle kiss that causes you to faintly blush.

“You sure you don’t specialize in desserts with how incredibly sweet you are?” He asks.

You scoff, “Get out of here love cook.”

He smiles mischievously but lets your hands go, “I’ll find it, and bring you back many ingredients, then we’ll cook a great feast together.” He affirms.

You nod feeling a bit mischievous yourself, knowing what you were about to say would get a rise out of the blonde, “Cool, it’s a date.” You say.

He stiffens so much that you swear he turned into a mannequin.

“SANJJIII COME ON!” Luffy yells his arms suddenly stretching from the ship all the way to Sanji, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him onto the already sailing ship.

You laugh as you hear Usopp exclaim, “He’s frozen!!”

“AHH SOMEBODY GET A BLOWTORCH!” Luffy yells.

“How about I Slice the shock out of him!” Zoro deviously says.

“NO!” Both Luffy and Usopp yell.

You shake your head laughing as watch their ship sail further and further not knowing when or if you’d ever see Sanji again, but you held your optimism as you waved them off.

Your suddenly thrown out of your thoughts by a sudden presence behind you, one you hated and have only recently come to fear.

“Did you get the letter?” A deep voice asks behind you.

You frown.

“Yes, and I tossed it in the trash where it belongs, you can’t have my sister.” You say determinedly.

A hearty laugh errupts behind you, “That’s fine, but you need my help don’t you?” He reminds. “I mean how else will you ever be able to keep this restaurant?” He asks.

Your frown only deepens.

“What do you suggest then?” You ask shakily a feeling of dread encapsulating you in a way you hadn’t experienced since your mother died.

“You take her place of course, become my bride.” The mans mischievious dark tone sends chills up your spine.

You shake your head, “Look, I already gave the chef my vivre card like you asked in the letter, why on earth do I have to marry you?!” You spit back.

“Because my dear, I have a good feeling that that Luffy kid is going to lead me directly to the One Piece, and when that time comes, I’m going to need all my bargaining chips, wait don't tell me you actually fell for that pervy cook? He questions sadistically.

“No.. I just don't wanna be a pawn in whatever game your playing.” You hiss.

“No my dear, you of all people should know, your worth so much more than that, you know with all that marijoise blood running through your veins.” He laughs.

You grit your teeth,”Do NOT mention those demons.” You say darkly.

“Okay okay, relax darling, just follow me and I promise you, your sister and restaurant will be in great hands.” He says triumphantly as his rough hand brushes your cheek.

“And why should I trust you?” You say shakily.

You watch as smile widens into one that very much resmebled a cheshire cat.

“Why?” He laughs darkly as a choir of laughs suddenly echo around you as the man’s pirate crew suddenly stands behind him tenfold.

Your heart races not have even sense them approaching.

Your eyes shift back onto him.

He pauses in laughing his face suddenly going completely stoic.

“Because I’m Blackbeard.”

-End?-

Oooh bet you didn't see that coming!! Hey guys so this is the final part of the Served mini story!! I hope you all enjoyed it!! So depending on how well this part does I might turn this into a series!! But I thought this would be a good place to leave it on for now.. ;)

[useless19]

You my dear have made the mistake of reigniting my love for megatron x knockout so now you must suffer my mad ravings. I'm sorry in advance. Megaknock is a FASCINATING ship because they are so alike and so different that its downright poetic in a way i know the writers didn't intend. They are both cunning and dangerous, both ruled by pride and explosive emotions. Both dramatic and boisterous. Neither are particularly patient and both relish in the pain of others.

However megatron enjoys a challenge, he's disciplined and unconcerned with his image as long as he can strike fear in his enemies, hes hardly afraid of getting dirty if it means getting his way. As for Knockout well in his own words games are only fun if your winning. he's indulgent and famously vain taking immeasurable pride in his appearance to the point where he will kill over getting his paint scratched. Megatron is composed and stern, with his harsh edges, towering size and unnatched strength he commands respect strength and radiates danger, an apex predator.

Meanwhile knockout is flamboyant and downright playful. With his small frame, his curved edges, his shiny paint he hides in plain sight making others think he's just a pretty preening thing, making them forget about the buzzsaws and knowledge from his profession that ensures he knows where the soft spots are. A scavenger through and through.

They would be a nightmare for absolutely everyone else as a couple, feeding off of and into eachothers worst nature. You just know knockout would revel in being a pampered trophy wife. As long as he gets to keep enjoying his hobbies he's perfectly happy to play the role of pretty accessory hanging off his masters arm or lounging in his lap and making him look all the more fearsome by comparison. Megatron would enjoy it just as much. Not only does he get to have a treasure the nobles of old would covet shamelessly fawn over him he also gets the entertainment of them not realizing the danger right in front of them. Atleast until they wind up on the dissection table. What can he say, megatron can't resist the sight of knockout in his element with his true predatory nature on full display, besides the colors of death suit him well. He always did find blue and red a lovely combination.

Pulling people back into rarepair hell is never a mistake ;)

One of the key things for me about their dynamic is that Knock Out is possibly the only person who is happy being a Decepticon while also genuinely seeming to like Megatron (for the most part). Watch the look on Knock Out's face in Stronger, Faster when Megatron injures Ratchet and presents his leaking frame to Knock Out with a "There's your laboratory sample, doctor." or the way Megatron accepts the Predacon talon at the end of Plus One.

They enjoy each other's competence and cruelty and their goals are often aligned, meaning that, while methods and success rates may vary, they generally aren't costing each other their key values/at key moments (compare to the worst of their conflicts with Starscream).

I think it helps that Megatron is usually smart about dealing with Knock Out on a (somewhat) professional level. Take the times Knock Out presents himself as mission-ready in Tunnel Vision and Hard Knocks, Megatron questions his capabilities both times. Knock Out doesn't appreciate the questioning, but Megatron's concern is assuaged by giving Knock Out an Insecticon guard and Knock Out borrowing equipment respectively, there's almost an edge of care to it. Later on, "Haven't I proven myself?" is followed up with "I need your scientific skills." which both soothes the unintended insult and shows how much Megatron appreciates Knock Out's non-combat skills - ie, the whole package.

Knock Out doesn't have some big grand plan, he's going with whatever flow works best for him. Whereas, Megatron does have a vision of the future (defeat the Autobots and rule the planet) and it's one that Knock Out fits in perfectly well. There isn't a need for Knock Out to question the status quo because it serves him just fine.

Megatron and Knock Out are also fascinating to me for being the two highest charisma characters in the show, just focused at opposite ends of the spectrum.

As much as I love the many ways in which they can make each other worse, I also really like how they have the potential to fit together and give each other the space to be needlessly sadistic while also being able to get comfort (even if it is wrapped in layers of denial). Megatron praises people when they succeed (competence kink, anyone?), while Knock Out, despite being designed sexy, never gets anyone commenting on how pretty he is, not even in a derogatory way. It's so close to Megatron dropping a half-compliment on Knock Out's looks and Knock Out taking it entirely too seriously.

And size difference. Can't forget the size difference!

[starlightseraph]

efforts to rid my dash of the rpf blogs have been going well, but, alas, there are always more, so i’m gonna get my thoughts out about the most recent things i’ve seen.

so i was looking at a post i very much agree with, only to see this in the comments:

…

firstly, where did op mention david/michael shipping? they didn’t. at all. they were talking about the boundless “analysis” (stalking), and how it’s creepy no matter its target; whether it’s predicting the end of a relationship, finding “evidence” of baby trapping or abuse, or insisting on an unconfirmed relationship. all of this is weird.

it’s still equally as weird when the subjects of this wild speculation are f/f or not same sex. i can think of multiple heterosexual examples (it happened in the doctor who fandom, also in the house fandom, although these incidents were both well before my time. i’m using old instances because they’re less likely to ignite a fight, but there are current ones too). our discomfort with this insanity has nothing to do with the shipping being m/m. like nothing. it has everything to do with the fact that none of us know anything about these people, yet you act as though you’re their closest friends and gossiping with them behind the high school bleachers.

i am not assuming that they’re straight, most of us aren’t assuming that, and my gaydar definitely goes off with them, but, like, i’m not assuming one way or the other at all until they explicitly describe the situation, if they ever do.

with regards to the “it’s not speculation when they say it themselves”: georgia’s ig caption genuinely seems like it’s part of a bit to me. like this is totally something that can and does happen platonically, all the time. if she posted something on her story saying “yes david and michael are in a relationship together,” then that’d be enough for me. but everything we’ve seen thus far is just as likely to be platonic. her caption was worded ambiguously, in a way that’s frequently used to describe friends with no romantic interest in each other. whatever it is, they know each other’s boundaries, we don’t.

oh, and, since it’s perfectly fine to make up your own “interpretations” of real people existing objectively outside the realm of your perception: my interpretation of the rpf blogs is that it’s pure wishful thinking. you guys see characters with a strong attraction, played by 2 people with a strong connection, and superimpose your desire for the characters’ relationship onto the real people. but, since you don’t see the actors’ lives in the way you see a characters’ story, you pick apart every snippet that you can find and piece together a narrative. it’s fine when you make up a fun story or write a made up fic on ao3, i don’t have any real ethical objections to fictional rp shipping. however, you guys go way beyond that, and you present your story as an investigation and as an analysis of real life.

that’s what’s creepy. that’s what we don’t like. the absolute worst part is when you go after the kids. sincerely fuck off with that. who do you think you are that you can speculate that david and michael wanted to leave their partners but that georgia and anna “strategically” got pregnant. i have seen people saying that georgia and anna are baby trappers, abusive to their partners and kids, stupid, and manipulative. i have seen people using these exact words to describe georgia and anna in relation to their parenting and the existence of their children. i have seen people say that their children hate them. none of that is excusable no matter what it’s presented as. at the very least, leave their children out of it, please.

[the-eeveekins]

Sulemio headcanons now that the show is over! This ended up being way longer than I thought and I wrote it over the course of the day. My apologies 😅

- First off, I see both of them as lesbians. Suletta had admiration for Elan but it wasn't romantic. She was attracted to Miorine instantly but had to get over her comphet first. Miorine has never paid serious attention to a man in her life.

- Miorine fell for Suletta almost instantly. It was love at first sight after Suletta came to her defense at the greenhouse and dueled for her. Miorine realized immediately that this girl actually, genuinely cared. Suletta was attracted to Miorine instantly but I don't think the feelings really broke through until Miorine came to her rescue in episode 7.

- I think they had a very...domestic vibe during the first season. They shared a lot of spaces, including a bed, and did a lot of things together with a level of physical closeness you'd normally only see couples do. Amusingly, Miorine only starts getting a little self-conscious about this after Suletta clearly starts getting more clingy after the incubation party.

- I'm still conflicted on when their first kiss happened. It's really a matter of how much I want to take what the series showed at face value vs. How I think maybe they were closer behind the scenes and behind closed doors the entire time.

- There was (unfortunately) a lot of offscreen stuff following their reunion in episode 22. Suletta tells Miorine about Elnora and Eri, how she's a repli-child and how she wants to help them no matter what. Miorine wholeheartedly accepts Suletta and her goals, it doesn't matter to her at all that she's a clone, because Suletta is Suletta and she loves her more than anything.

- Suletta's composure finally breaks just before boarding the Calibarn, and she confides to Miorine just how scared she actually is of dying in it. Miorine holds her tight, caressing and reassuring her until she calms down and regains her composure.

- The very first thing Miorine does once she gets Suletta aboard the ship after Quiet Zero is take their helmets off and give her the biggest kiss imaginable, much to the shock of everyone else present. They affirm their love for each other, but before the mood can get too romantic it becomes clear that Suletta is paralyzed.

- Suletta was bedridden for over a month after, and doctors weren't sure if she would ever regain full mobility. Miorine never left her side except for work or when she was dragged away by Earth House to take care of herself.

- Suletta was initially very self-conscious about her permet scars, but Miorine was insistent that they were cute and she was still the most beautiful person in the world. Miorine got into the habit of caressing and kissing her scars and now Suletta loves them.

- They got married a year after Quiet Zero, which was the longest either of them was willing to wait. Suletta worked incredibly hard in rehab, and by the time the day arrived she was able to walk down the aisle on crutches in her dress. It was one of the rare times Miorine's facade broke in front of others and she started openly weeping upon seeing Suletta. Nika gave them their blessing to get married without her and was able to watch a live stream of it recorded by Eri.

- Gund-Arm Inc was sold to Earth as part of the BG sale, but the Earthian company it was sold to (a medical company) restored Miorine as CEO after Earth House vouched for her character. While the company does work all over, Miorine does most of her direct work those first few years at Quinharbor to make amends and help the people there anyway possible.

- Miorine and Suletta's house is actually near Quinharbor, out in the country-side. This way even when Miorine is working, she's never far from home and Suletta. It has a full farm with a greenhouse specially for tomatoes, and a modest sized house that Suletta, Miorine, Eri and Elnora live in together. At least once a month, every one from Earth House joins them for a large dinner.

- Delling has been almost completely removed from the picture. Miorine could never forgive him for the way he controlled her life, and after learning about his role in the Vanadis Incident and what it did to the Samaya family, she completely cut him off from her new family. They talk over the phone maybe once or twice a year.

- Elnora actually loves Miorine a lot, considering her dedication to Suletta, but generally doesn't openly show it. Due to the guilt she feels about Quinharbor, she helps when she can with the company and does a lot of subtle things around the house to try and make Miorine's life easier when she's fussing over Suletta. But she absolutely spoils and showers Suletta and Eri with love, she has a lot of lost time to make up and she wants to cherish her new life.

- Eri has her own room. Suletta, Miorine and Elnora have spent the years stocking it with all sorts of devices thay she enjoys playing with, and she also often controls the cleaning robots and farm equipment. She likes to travel with Miorine specifically because it let's her see the world directly. And she gets to tease her sister-in-law.

- Miorine is often so busy that everyone has to force her to take breaks. When she's not working, she's devoted almost entirely to Suletta, taking care of her with her limited mobility and being present for her rehabilitation. Their favorite thing to do together is tend the farm, but especially the tomatoes in the greenhouse. Miorine has them sold at a farmer's market and they're incredibly popular.

At some point she buys a piano and starts playing again, but she's rusty and doesn't think she's very good. But no matter what, she always let's Suletta join her and listen to her playing if she wants.

- And finally Suletta. It took almost a year for Suletta to finally be able to walk with crutches, and another year and a half after for her to be able to move a little without them. She still needs them, but after 3 years she can manage short walks on her own. She still struggles a bit with her hands, but it's gotten much better.

She's been doing more than just rehab in those 3 years though. With everyone's help, she started a project to build a school on Mercury, and after 2.5 years it opened, and along with GUND-ARM Inc. sourcing a lot of Permet from Mercury specifically, the planet has seen a revival.

Suletta was so satisfied and fulfilled by the experience, she decided she wanted to open another school near her home. And after spending a lot of time with local kids during her rehab, she's started working towards becoming a teacher.

- As for my thoughts on the future: GUND-ARM Inc is growing and expanding, but the Mercury family has no plans to move. There are plans to make Eri a human-like GUND body so that she can rejoin society normally and Elnora is leading the project. Suletta and Miorine, sometime around when the show ends, have absolutely discussed having kids in the future when things settle down more for both of them.

[bennie0315]

Spoilers but anyway

Ok I genuinely was not expecting how this episode played out like those two, the doctor and rogue, were literally made for each other 😭the dancing and the "fake" proposal I mean the trailer did a good job of hiding all that making him look like a bad guy with the gun and the whole you cad thing but this episode was something else (the scene on rugue's ship was hilarious 🤣) and the doctor better find him tho I expect he won't for a long time 😔at least he got that much needed support from Ruby. Now I'm going to go drown in my sorrows.

[emilija04acer]

Lackadaisy fanfics list <3

Recomendation>>>

Characters: Viktor, Mordecai, Nico, Seraphine

Lackadaisy Five by GreyRose24

Viktor Vasko’s first impression of Mordecai Heller is that Atlas has hired a scrawny kid to be his new partner. His second impression is that Atlas has hired a very irritating scrawny kid with something missing in either his head or his heart. Alternate title: five times Mordecai let the mask slip in front of Viktor and one time he didn't

Words:27,291

This is one of my favorites. I found it when I was searching for fics that had some focus on Mordechai's Jewish background. I like how the author depicted their relationship (not because it isn't romantic), they show genuine care for one another and I want to read more.

(If you like the ship see number 3)

This is the first part in a series of 5 works, I'd recommend this series.

2. Lackadaisy Communion by GreyRose24

The Savoy siblings’ first impression of Mordecai Heller was that Asa Sweet had handed them off to a rude bookkeeper to be their new leader. Their second impression was that the boss really needed to watch his back because their new colleague clearly had his own agenda in mind. Alternate title: four times the Savoys messed with Mordecai to get to know him better and one time they didn't. [Fluffy side story, fits around Lackadaisy Diable & Triad]

Words: 25,720

The final installment of this series was mentioned earlier. Even without reading the entire series, I found it possible to understand everything. I love fluff so this is the jam.

3. What Is This Feeling? by FOxFIRe_27

4 times Mordecai had some…confusing feelings about Viktor + one time it finally clicked.

Words:12,781

Actually wanted the 2 to be happy so it's a bit out of character, but it's sweet!

4. Frozen Hearts by meticulous-metzger (EdgeHedgeShads)

In an attempt to raise Viktor for a job without freezing his tail off, Mordecai decides to drive in the thick winter snow, only to have an accident. Irritated his young triggerman continues to be reckless, Atlas orders him out of the speakeasy and into Viktor's apartment to recover, leading to some awkward conversations, situations and a whole lot of bonding.

Words:5,948

Mordecai has an accident and Viktor takes care of him, Unfortunately uncompleted...

5. The Hotseat by meticulous-metzger (EdgeHedgeShads)

After a storage barn gets raided by a competitor, Mordecai and Viktor are sent out to wait for the perpetrators to make a second hit. Unfortunately, it's the middle of summer, and Mordecai isn't coping with the heat well.

Words:2,697

This one is a bit more... sweaty. Nothing too explicit, just the first kiss in the summer's heat. Again not finished... Damn!

6. Stopgap by Stariceling

Viktor and Mordecai look after each other, at least long enough for the bleeding to stop.

Words:2,223

A break from shipping, another platonic fic!

Mordecai took out his handkerchief again to finish the interrupted task of fastidiously cleaning the blood from his face. “That should suffice until you see a doctor.”

“No doctor,” Viktor muttered. “Alvays threatening to chop off legs.”

7. Lackadaisy Liaison by bubble_bees

Viktor couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment their relationship developed into this. It was natural. They gravitated around one another as if that’s what they’ve done all their life. Or: a look at Viktor & Mordecai's partnership, up until its rather violent end.

Words:2,143

The betrayal of getting kneecapped buy your dear friend. Poor Vik...

There should be more fics focusing on Viktor and Mordecai. On Viktor in general. Also on the Savoy siblings.

I know they aren't the main characters, it's to be expected but come on! Will I have to write? I want a fic in which Viktor gets an apology for being kneecapped into early retirement, well a longer fic than this>

I Know Those Eyes/This Man Is Dead by Lack-luster-daisy (cowgremlin) We are back to shipping.

Please write for the series! Finish them, please!!!

"Papa me want more movie!"

Why are there only 4 pages for Mordecai and Viktor (platonic) on AO3? Well looks like someone's got to change that.

[t0ast-ghost]

S2 episode 25 (Bread And Circuses) oh goodness oh my. I’m not ready. I’m so ready.

Okay get ready:

- They’re all standing on the enterprise bridge completely still. As if in tableau.

- Of course they’re beaming down to a dangerous planet with only the top three officers. Why even use reason at this point.

- Kirk outside the ship in his green shirt <3 (I keep thinking of it as his pjs)

- McCoy is very hostile towards Spock today. Hope they don’t get put in a situation with sharp objects…

- “Once, just once, I’d like to land someplace and say, ‘behold, I am the archangel Gabriel.’” “I fail to see the humour in that situation, Doctor.” “Naturally. You could hardly claim to be an angel with those point ears, Mr. Spock. But say you landed someplace with a pitchfork.” This is proving my theory that they’re the angel and devil on Kirk’s shoulders

- “We come from another… province.” Canadian moment

- “What do you call those?” “I call them ears.” There is no end to Spock’s audacity

- “Captain, I thought you might find this interesting.” Spock hands Kirk a newspaper with a shirtless man on the cover

- “Will you help us?” No one can outright deny this twunk

- Spock in a hat

- McCoy in a regular short sleeve shirt and bell bottom pants is <3

- no words for this one

- it’s like this episodes message is mirroring our own world or something… nah

- McCoy is already picking fights. Spock is indulging him. They’re not enemies to lovers. They’re enemies AND lovers.

- McCoy not afraid to slap a bitch

- So Merrick killed all of his crew… right?

- McCoy and Spock just flirting (debating) in public

- AND they threatened McCoy and Spock

- As Jim takes the communicator to assumedly order the crew down he has a shit eating grin… so it’s safe to assume he’s not gonna do that

- “Must you always be so blasted honest?!”

- He’s just talking on his cellphone

- Scotty is talking to his diary, Uhura is listening

- Jim is so scared for what’s about to happen

- McCoy and Spock about to face off against two shirtless men

- “I don’t mind fighting but… why you?” That gladiator took one look at them and went, ‘why are they making us fight these two nerds?’

- Camera goes to McCoy -> sound guy ups the catcalls

- I love Spock fighting really hard in the background and McCoy just.. he don’t want to

- “Do you need any help, Doctor?” “What ever gave you that idea?” “[random gladiator]Fight, you pointed eared freak!” “You tell him, buster! Of all the completely… ridiculous, illogical questions I ever heard in my life!” Then Bones falls on his ass and Spock comes to his rescue, happily ever after

- Those pants make Kirk’s ass look flat… unfair

- Spock trying to break the bars while McCoy sits in the most strange way possible

- Spock has tried to get them out the same way fifteen times. He wants his boyfriends safe.

- Me: awww McCoy and Spock having a genuine moment… nope they can’t last ten seconds (maybe they are divorced)

- McCoy pins Spock against the wall of the cell to make his point

- Spock’s pouty expression…

- “Why you wouldn’t know what to do with a genuine warm decent feeling.” “Really doctor?” They’re giving each other ‘fuck me’ eyes

- Their fight ended with “I’m worried about Jim too” like McCoy knows Spock feels emotions but represses them and is ‘trying’ to understand him

- Kirk, I implore you not to kiss this woman- that went out the window so fast

- Never mind what I said about the pants making his ass flat. I was severely wrong. Forgive me.

- KIRK STRAIGHT UP KILLED THOSE GUYS

- Ohhh Merrick stole the communicator

- Kirk giving commendation to Scotty for not breaking the prime directive is priceless. ‘Good self control, Mr Scott.’

- I love how Spock and McCoy are both saying things about Flavius (agreeing with each other)and as soon as Spock speaks about studying the sun religion, McCoy looks like he’s going to explode

I both like and hate the relationship they have with Spock and McCoy in this one cause it’s so magnetic but I don’t know if it’ll ever be evolved past this and that makes me sad.

Masterpost

Episode written by Gene Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon

[honourablejester]

Some of my favourite bits from the landmarks/setting of Heart: The City Beneath:

The starting layer, Derelictus, was originally intended to be the massive central station for the cursed Vermissian train network, but it was never connected to the system, so it remained intact when shit went tits up and everything else got metaphysical. It’s a mini-city, the City Between, that’s arranged on the four massive vertical platform levels of a train station.

I fucking love the Vermissian stations in general: there’s the one precariously arranged around massive crystal stalactites that continuously threaten to fall and crush the station, there’s the flooded one with broken pumps and intact vending machines, there’s the one that’s a terrifying amusement park, there’s the one with glass floors suspended precariously over an artificial lake containing a captive sea monster, there’s the one that’s an eerie fake city where there’s nothing unique, all the tiles, streets, shops, etc are the same one tiled over and over again, and then there’s the crown jewel, Terminus, the metaphysical turntable station where the turntable can be rotated dimensionally to hook up to every single possible line. I love the Vermissian. I adore this mad train network so much.

There’s a grove full of aggressive drug dealer druids who supply the Cities Above and Beneath, and one of the suggested quests you can get is from a burly naked druid who has to get a shipment of hallucinogenic mushrooms to a Vermissian Sage, but he can’t be having with that technological hellscape nonsense, so he hires you to ship it for him.

There are seven temples to the Moon Beneath, one central one and six subsidiary ones each devoted to one of the six Damnic Virtues. My favourite is Athane, Temple of Sagacity, which has developed into an endless debating floor because the priests have come to believe that something catastrophic will happen if the debate ever ends, so one of them always has to be standing and lecturing on something. They are desperately grateful if literally anyone else would be willing to stay a while and hold the floor on any subject for long enough for them to get a break.

In the Tunnels of Wet Filth, where the sewers from the City Above flow down to and where the ground is covered in liquid filth, there’s a doctor named Aster who advertises his ‘purgatives’ that can cure you of any illness. Since witchdom is a blood-borne disease in this universe, you can meet a witch who would like to be rid of it, and asks you to escort her up there. The thing is, apparently his advertising is absolutely not false, as she actually can just hyurk up her magic after his purgatives. So, like. He lives in a literal cesspit that can curse you with eternal stench to enter, but he is absolutely not lying about his product?

There’s a mobile predatory library stalking around tiers 2 and 3 of the Heart with a dragon-larvae at its heart hungering for knowledge. The librarians are all mind-controlled slaves, and that is absolutely a fate that can happen to you, if you spend too long or take too much damage in there. But it has an absolutely staggering collection, and if you’re looking for answers, it genuinely is the place to go.

The headquarters of the Hounds, the cursed remnants of a massacred army sent to conquer the Heart, is the Bunker, a central command structure in the heart of a web of trenches and razorwire, because the Hounds are basically WWI vets cursed to immortality by an ancient sentient hellscape. I’m going to give you one of the potential quests here verbatim from the book, because it’s fantastic: “A one-eyed quartermaster hires you (D10, Haven) to carry a single bottle of rotgut whiskey to the Bunker so the commanders of the 33rd have something to drink. Can you make it there and keep the bottle intact?” Followed by: “That quartermaster shouldn’t have paid you up front, and you drank the whiskey without ever going to the Bunker. Now you’re being hunted by thirsty and unpleasantly sober immortal soldiers. How are you going to make amends?” Rule one: do not deprive immortal traumatised vets of their alcohol, what’s wrong with you?

The Ghastling Plain down in tier 3 is a sea of ash underneath a perpetually burning ceiling-sky, where people live in stilt houses and ‘fish’ for eyeless lizards and strange land-squid in the ash beneath, or sail on skiffs across the surface of the ash. It’s desolate and beautiful.

There is another mobile rogue library called Papilous, this one extra-dimensional, where dream moths suck secrets like nectar out of people’s ears and librarians gently brush the thought-pollen from the moths into books. It’s actually Silent Hill, in that there is a benevolent and a malevolent version of Papillon, nested inside each other, and one can cross between them by accident. The inhabitants of either version do not believe that the other exists.

There are eight extra-dimensional Heavens you can access (especially if you’re a Deadwalker), and my favourite is the Source, which the gnolls of one of the surface nations discovered through their mechano-occult investigations, and from which they draw the energy that powers their machinery. It’s a great mechanical labyrinth of electrum and gold that courses with energy, including lethal surges of it, and is defended by constructs that prevent mortals from messing with the circuitry, as Expedition 23 found out to the tune of a single survivor. The gnolls have been sending living expeditions into it from the ziggurant in their capital city in the south, but delvers in the Heart can also make their way in. The twain can meet, which I find amusing: two different blasphemous mortal expeditions into a heaven meeting accidentally in the middle.

One the subject of what happens if you die while already illicitly in an afterlife, the book has this fantastic note: “Short answer: we don’t know. Make it up. No-one’s supposed to get into heaven while they’re alive, let alone get stabbed in the gut and bleed out there, so metaphysics tends to handle it on a case-by-case basis.” Which, you know. Fair.

This is such a gnarly setting. I deeply enjoy it. Especially the trains. I just. I really, really love the trains?

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 21: Get On With It

Pairing: Siren Hunter x Doctor Reader

Summary: An enchanted ship gets annoyed when you and Hunter take too long to get together.

Author’s Note: My graduation ceremony exhausted me so sorry if this is a bit disjointed.

Warnings: flipping off a sibling, but that’s it.

Word Count: 1190

Prompt: We’re a crew of five now. One immortal, one siren, one stormseer, and one messer. No one knows what I’m here for, but when the ship wants to hire you, its very difficult to say no.

Prompt 3038 by deepwaterwritingprompts

You think you're going crazy when you first hear it: the calling. You're working on the Negotiator as a doctor and while this is all fairly new to you, you’re enjoying the work. The Mer clones of the 212th are kind and General Kenobi is a joy to work with. Even if you and Commander Cody have to drag him to the medical bay for treatment sometimes.

When a small black ship pulls up beside the Negotiator, you don’t think much of it. Apparently Commander Cody needed the unorthodox help of a special forces squad of Mer clones. The call starts as a whisper that you can barely make out. Eventually you can hear it crystal clear throughout the day. It’s an invitation to come aboard to work.

As it becomes more insistent, you follow it to the negotiator’s railing and stare down at the Marauder. It was definitely the source of the strange voice. As you look down, it then becomes clear why the voice is becoming more insistent; they are preparing to leave.

“So are you going to go?” The General asks, coming up beside you. You had forgotten Jedi can hear callings not meant for them. “Enchanted ships are picky about inviting people aboard and it usually means your fate is tied to the ship. At least for a time.”

“I- I am I allowed to?” You ask softly. You want to go, but honestly you’re afraid. Messing with any kind of magic outside everyday enchanted items is something you have long avoided.

“I can sign the documents to transfer you.” Kenobi states simply. “It’s genuinely your choice to heed the call or not.”

“So you’re who the Marauder has been summoning.” You flinch in surprise and watch the General cover a smirk with his hand. Tech suddenly appears next to you and begins firing questions. You don’t mind and want to learn more about the ship that keeps calling you, but you glare at General Kenobi for not giving you prior warning he was coming over. He just smiles at you and goes on his way.

We’re a crew of five now. One immortal, one siren, one stormseer, and one messer. No one knows what you’re here for, but when the ship wants to hire you, it's very difficult to say no. Tech handles most of the medical care so you feel a bit redundant, but enjoy getting to know each crew member.

Since joining, you no longer hear the ship speak, but hearing Tech translate the creaks and moans keeps life interesting. Gonky is a very sweet turtle familiar and he’ll often come sit with you to sunbathe.

Tech, the messer, is constantly taking care of the ship and gathering new details on every island you all visit. You find that, while he is perfectly capable of physically stealing knowledge from enchanted documents, seeking knowledge in general just fascinates him. You find yourself enjoying going down random ash rabbit holes with him.

Wrecker surprises you by being the stormseer, just as able to read the ocean’s weather as he could a crew mate’s heart. You more than enjoy goofing around with the black powder expert, but also him being there when you needed a shoulder to lean on.

Crosshair is the immortal. You see him make impossible shots with a bow, sniping enemies from far away. Every once in a while, he walks away from a fight with a wound for a corpse. He just smirks at you and heads to Tech for help.

Lastly, there’s Hunter, the siren. His enhanced senses and distracting song have gotten you and the rest of the squad out of more trouble than you can count. He’s the one you have slowly, but surely gotten the closest with.

You lean over the Marauder's railing late one night. Your mind spiraling down a dark hole about why you’re even here. You aren’t of any help. The squad was doing just fine before you arrived and you hadn’t majorly changed anything. Perhaps the ship chose wrong.

You are so deep in thought you don’t see Hunter’s black and red fin in the water. There is a soft tune in the air that you don’t really hear. It just makes your shoulders relax and promises there is a purpose to you being here. Hunter grows worried when he sees one of his less intrusive songs doesn’t help. He then hops out of the water over the opposite railing, returning to human form.

‘What could be stressing you so much that your heart was beating that fast?” Hunter quietly thinks to himself as he sets his helmet to the side and takes the spot next to you.

“You’re spiraling.” You blink back to reality to see Hunter standing next to you. Your next words die on your tongue as you see his face illuminated by the moonlight. Your eyes linger on the tattoo before quickly looking back out at the still water. He chuckles softly; the flirting had slowly increased over time in any quiet moment the two of you got together. These were rare.

“I’m fine.” You mutter trying to wave him off though you were smiling nonetheless. He arches an eyebrow and you sigh. “Maybe not perfectly fine. I just can’t sleep.”

It’s quiet for a moment before the ship creaks like it wants something specific to happen. You both look around confused before searching the deck for something wrong, but find nothing.

“What do you think that was about?” You ask as you turn back to him. Hunter shrugs, but seems to glare down at the deck in retaliation for interrupting the moment. It’s your turn to laugh and he turns his attention back to you, making him smile.

“Sweetheart, I…” Hunter pauses and you watch his Adam’s apple move with his gulp. “I could help with that if you want.”

“Yes, how?” The ship seems to get irritated and you feel the deck bend underneath your feet. Unable to keep balance, you crash headfirst into Hunter and he wraps his arms tightly around you. You stare at one another; both your faces darkening with a blush.

“The Marauder says to get on with it!” Tech’s voice breaks through the night, making you both jump. Hunter curses under his breath before kissing you. You let out a surprised squeak before melting into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. It was a long kiss and full of months of longing.

Once you pull apart, he flips Tech off as said brother headed inside; your whole body shakes with laughter. Hunter turns his attention back to you and your stomach somersaults at the contently happy look on his face.

“Do you want company?” Hunter asks, leaning his forehead against your own. You peck the corner of his mouth as your fingers play with his hair. Suddenly you're hit with the thought that maybe this was why the Marauder had hired you. You quickly realize you’re not upset if that’s true. If this was your fate, you would more than happily meet it with open arms.

“If it’s you, pretty boy. Always.”

[n1ghteeea]

Do you have like a getting together timeline in your head for polybusters? Also, what made you start shipping them in that way? Are there any individual pairings within the group you're drawn to more than others?

Ty for the ask!! ^-^

In my head Ray and Egon meet in college when Ray is studying and Egon is working as an instructor since he got his college degree in school (a canon fact).

They bond over their love for supernatural and begin hanging out together (mostly in the lab).

Later Peter joins them too after he switches his degree from engineering to whatever Ray is studying (also a canon fact).

At first he finds their interests silly and mildly entertaining, but eventually gets into it too and they all become friends, working on their doctorates together.

Eventually they graduate and a version of the movie events happens, they start the business, hire Janine and later Winston. I don’t think there would be a certain point where they would catch feelings for each other, but rather their shared routines, job, home, pastime and the fact that they get to know everything about each other leads them to developing soft and fond feelings for one another which eventually flow into romantic attraction. I don’t really enjoy thinking about how they’d work it out, they’d find a way, but the established family relationship is very dear to me. It’s probably boring, but I prefer the concept of people slowly falling in love as they get to know each other over love at first sight 🤷

Janine and Egon would take longer to figure things out, they both like each other and both know it, yet somehow their relationship doesn’t fully progress into a proper one. Of course there would be no jealousy or anything on either side, they are all a family 🫶

There is an idea of Ray, Egon and Peter dating in college that basically revolves around Egon scolding Peter for having bad marks and not trying hard enough in classes and Peter kissing him to shut him up when they get home + all the little shared affections during their work, but it’s more for the entertainment of it, I don’t consider it canon in my RGB timeline (I’m talking like it’s some complicated thing like fnaf lore lmao).

Regarding how I got the idea of all of them being together I think I just watched the show, lol. The amount of fondness they all feel for one another makes it impossible to only pick two people who are supposed to be “in love” and sort others out. They are a package deal, do not separate them ☝️ and thus I genuinely don’t have certain individual dynamics I like more than the others, each of them is unique and very dear to me!!

[sodalitea]

The Silliest Friendship (headcanon bonus)

A little silly illustration of Dottore and Columbina. My brain is currently melting in the summer heat, so I've decided to send them on a friendly trip (I see them as besties, I'm not shipping them) and add some sugarcoated aesthetics to it.

I've used marker dedicated paper for the first time. There's still a lot to master, but I'm pretty content with the current results. For now... let me present you the headcanon bonus.

Don't repost my artworks, please! I'll appreciate likes, comments and reblogs. ♡

Dottore and Columbina (platonic headcanons)

TW: None. Just general fluffy headcanons about Dottore and Columbina.

One of my favorite imagines are those picturing Columbina and Dottore as besties.

Dottore is fascinated by Columbina's inhuman nature. He admires the amount of power hidden behind the facade of her fragile, angelic appaerance. Besides, Columbina's senses are way sharper than the human ones, what gives her the ability of noticing the smallest details – including the instant recognition of each one of the Doctor's segmens. Even if some of them are finding Columbina's morbid sense of humor a bit annoying, they'll be rather tolerant, knowing that she's not the one to mess without the consequences. At the end of the day, all versions of Dottore will vibe with her peacefully as she visits the lab randomly to watch the Doctor's work.

Columbina finds Dottore entertaining. She genuinely listens to his rambling about his recent special interests. The weirdness of Dottore's projects helps her deal with her own boredom. She'll never stop him from doing what he wants to do, no matter how crazy his ideas would sound to the sane person. Instead, she'll cheer him and watch the incomes with her usual stoic attitude. The worse it is the more funny it seems.

Something just broke? A strange mixture caused a blow directly in Dottore's face? He looks dissatisfied? She'll make the most cursed, teasing comments of everything he does, but she has a sense of not crossing the certain lines… most of the time.

Sometimes Pantalone's or Pierro's force is needed to calm down the Doctor and stop the chaos from spreading further.

Summarizing, Dottore and Columbina are the chaotic duo. They will shamelessly use Pantalone's money during their day off. Dottore will buy some stuff to his lab or some food supplies from Sumeru (he has a big peference for the Sumerian food, it helps him deal with being homesick in the snow covered land), while Columbina will always choose sweets.

This time she chose the strawberry cheescake ice cream, while Dottore carries some useful stuff in his bag… In case he could become playable sooner than later.

They are gossipping together about everyone in the mean-time.