#I KNOW they will be okay but I CANNOT take much more of it

[garbageconnoisseur]

Homeless LGBT couple needs help!!! (Valentine's Edition ❤️❤️❤️)

Hello everyone! ❤️Happy Valentines❤️

My family is homeless and we have been struggling to find work. The weather has been cold and rainy and I've been getting progressively more ill with each passing month. I have been going to the doctor and I have another appointment coming up but it's going to take a while to be okay. In the mean time, going without shelter and the lack of regular access to food has been making things worse. Up until now, I've been getting a little help regularly to cover important bills but as of this month that has fallen through so we really could use some support.

Right now, we need help affording food, a motel room, toiletries, and important bills, like car insurance. If we lose access to the car, I can't work or get to the doctor and I know things will only get worse from there. I'm trying my best to make ends meet on my own but until my wife or I find a job that will take one of us, we're pretty vulnerable. If you can send help, please do so; this is an ongoing need. If you cannot, please share this post where it will get some positive attention. We are getting less and less as we go and if we don't get help we won't make it. We're burning out pretty bad and I know I can't take much more going wrong before I break. Thanks for everything, friends. I appreciate you all who have helped so far, so very much.

Venmo: @garbageconnoisseur CashApp: $garbageconnoisseur PayPal: @garbageconnoisseur

DM for Zelle. Please no hate, you will be blocked. No unsolicited advice either, please. I just don't have the energy for it anymore.

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

Sorry it is 3AM and my field of study is more based on climate adaptation and mitigation as opposed to the hard science behind how climate systems work so I may not be able to explain this perfectly.

However. Unless I am completely misremembering David Wallace-Wells’ work, while it is true that scientific predictions for the degree of warming that we expect has come down over the past couple decades or so, the predictions for the severity of impacts that we will see at lower levels of warming have increased. So that is just really not an honest way of framing what he’s talking about. I believe Genevieve Guenther has a really well written criticism of the claims he makes in her book The Language of Climate Politics if anyone is interested in that.

It is important to understand that at present levels of warming we are seeing impacts that were expected at higher levels. And many climate scientists are massively concerned about this.

And like. Sure this still doesn’t mean that we’re all going to live through some sort of sci fi apocalypse movie. However I am from Florida. I expect many of the places I grew up around to become uninhabitable within my lifetime due to a combination of sea level rise, hurricanes, and extreme heat.

Also, sure we do technically have greater capabilities to adapt and respond to natural disasters. But like. I am currently in the works of beginning a semester long research project into sea level rise adaptation and we absolutely are not prepared for the scale of disasters that future climate impacts will bring. Hell we’re not even prepared for what’s happening now. My hometown was still recovering from major infrastructure damage from Hurricane Ian from 2022 when it was hit by both Milton and Helene over the course of THREE WEEKS. Like you have to realize that these horrible things that you see on the news still have effects years down the line after you’ve stopped hearing about it.

And it is also true that scientists cannot rule out the possibility of human extinction. I do not say this to fear monger. But people deserve to know that. Like we are very likely going to hit potentially major tipping points within our lifetimes.

Also. I am so sorry but choosing to believe that demand for renewables and technological innovation will save us is bullshit. The market will not work this out. Speaking as someone who is in the built environment fields there are tons of sectors other than just energy that are much more difficult to decarbonize. And the fantasy belief that like. “Green growth” on a finite planet will save us from climate disaster is just wrong. I am so sorry. But no. I can try to follow this up with more resources tomorrow. But no. This entire post is so full of misinformation that I just. I cannot figure out how to coherently explain this. Just no.

Also I am so sorry but we are not fucking going to re lower global temperatures through net negative emissions. That is literally the most absolutely bullshit claim. Jesus fucking Christ. Literally any amount of digging into carbon capture technologies will reveal that it is bullshit. It is quite literally just a bullshit diversion tactic from fossil fuel companies. All of the really great cool studies you keep seeing about how carbon capture is going to save us are being funded by them. I believe that like. Fucking Columbia Climate School is taking a ton of funding from them last I checked. It is just an excuse for fossil fuel companies to be able to keep emitting and to make people feel like the change necessary to actually tackle the climate crisis isn’t necessary. When it is. It is the same shit as tobacco companies funding studies into literally any other cause of lung cancer other than smoking.

Just like. Let’s please have a little bit of reading comprehension here too. Like okay we have avoided truly apocalyptic levels of global heating? For who? For the residents of island nations whose land will no longer be habitable due to sea level rise? For the 1,301 people who died on the Hajj pilgrimage when temperatures exceeded 50C/122F? For the people in Asheville, North Carolina who were found dead in trees because they jumped out of their upper story apartment windows and tried to climb when the water rose too high? In a town that is thousands of feet above sea level and hundreds of miles from the coast. Be so fucking serious with me right now.

This is a moment that is unprecedented within geologic history. Much less within the time that has provided a stable climate for our species to evolve. We are currently living within a mass extinction. That is fucking apocalyptic. I do not say this to fear monger. I do say this because people have the right to have an accurate understanding of what is happening so that people can understand the urgency of the present moment. I do not say this to spread the idea that things are so bad that we’re doomed and should just give up. Because that is also a horrible way of looking at this and is also very unproductive. But like. People don’t need to be lied to. People need to be educated on the actual realities of the current situation. This is not a fight that ends unless we get to the absolute worst case scenario of human extinction. Which to be clear is not something that is expected. It is just something that cannot be ruled out. Just please please do not spread this misinformation. I can try to follow this up with more resources tomorrow and do a better job of evaluating the things they’re saying and the sources they’re using.

We have already averted truly apocalyptic levels of global warming.

Yes, read that again. Let it sink in. This is what the science now says. We have already averted truly apocalyptic global warming.

To quote David Wallace-Wells, author of The Uninhabitable Earth, from his huge feature in the New York Times:

"Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders, we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years... The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse." (New York Times, October 22, 2022. Unpaywalled here. Emphasis mine. And yes, this vision of the future is backed up by the current science on the issue, as he explains at length in the article.)

So we've already averted truly apocalyptic warming, and we've already cut expected warming IN HALF in just the past five years.

The pace of technology, of innovation, of prices, of feasibility, of discovery, of organizing, of grassroots movements, of movements in other countries around the world, have all picked up the pace so fast in the last five years.

Renewable technology and capacity are both increasing at an exponential rate. It's all S-curves, ones that look like this:

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024.

How much more will we manage in another five years? Another ten? Another twenty?

I know the US is about to fucking suck about the environment for the next four years. But the momentum of renewable energy is far too much to stop - both in the US (x) and around the world.

(Huge shoutouts to India, China, and Brazil for massive gains for the environment in renewables, and Brazil for massive progress against Amazon deforestation.)

We're going to get there.

Say it with me. We're going to get there.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan When You're Pregnant

I got baby fever rn, some here's some headcanons for when you get pergananant (am I pergot?) with Lo's baby

(breeding kink go brrrrr)(nsfw section below the fluff stuff)

First off, I think we can all agree that no matter what variant Logan it is, whether it's planned or an accident, he's gonna freak out initially when you both find out your pregnant

He'll keep the initial freakout under wraps though.

70s!Dofp Logan, Old man Logan, and Trilogy Logan would probably be the most freaked out

The others, like Origins, Future DOFP, who are a bit more settled in would probably be more ready

Worst Logan? You're gonna need to give him a hug

Moving on

They all step up though, don't worry

Even 70s DOFP, he may be a menace but he sure as hell ain't gonna leave you or his baby alone

ANYWAY

Logan is so supportive of you. He'll constantly be checking on you. He'll be nesting almost immediately so get ready

He will definitely become more protective too. Like a lot. He'll try his best to not be overbearing but he's went lot of his life losing those he loves. He absolutely cannot afford to lose you and ya'lls baby

Lets say for this that you two are in an established relationship, planned or not, I'll leave that to ya'lls lovely imaginations

hes there for every doctors trip, exam, sonogram, etc etc. he doesn't miss a thing and holds your hand the entire time

The first trimester is rough. Mood swings, morning sickness, aches and pain. Logan handles your mood swings like a pro. He always knows just what to say, and he never really can take it personal when you get an attitude with him- mainly bc he likely deserved it with his own sarcasm

He's patient with you when you get snippy at him. He'll give you space when you need it, or will be extra attentive. Whatever you want. He's learned to read your emotions

He'll hold your hair back and rub your back whenever the morning sickness hits. Get you some tea, maybe a little toast if you feel like you can hold it down

One day you just couldn't hold anything down, by evening you're in tears, frustrated with everything. You attempted to eat some saltines and couldn't even hold those down. You're crying on the bathroom floor and Logan sits with you, cradling you in his arms as he says soothing things,

"You're so strong bub. You're gonna be okay. I'm right here."

You'll get backrubs and footrubs anytime you want

The food cravings and constantly being hungry becomes a lot too. It's fortunate that Logan had learned to be a decent cook over time.

He'll insist that you eat only healthy good foods for the baby, but when you look at him with pouty lips and pleading eyes because you REALLY want that extra cheese pizza topped with extra pepperonis and peppers, along with those garlic knots, and chocolate chip peanut butter ice cream, AND caramel sea salt chocolates. He has to give in. he's grabbing his keys and wallet to get what you want

Listen, you totally want to eat healthy for the baby too, and you do! You take your vitamins, you incorporate so much fruit and veggies and whatever else in your meals

But dammit sometimes that baby just wants fries dipped in ice cream and you learned how to sneak those unhealthy snacks under Logans radar

(or so you think, hes' got heightened sense of smell. he DEFINITELY smells the weird junk food you're sneaking)

You're tossing and turning one night, feeling restless and just wanting to eat. You wake him up, chatty as hell and eventually you tell him you want something to eat

"Bub you just had a whole meal 2 hours ago"

"I know just something small. Like a poptart. or a rice krispie"

He sighs. "No more poptarts or rice kripies. I'll make you something."

He closes his eyes, expecting to get another few minutes of sleep before he goes to the kitchen, but he can't feel you staring at him. Hard. He took a breath, pushing the blankets off as he got himself out of bed, heading to the kitchen to make you a good healthy snack

don't worry, he's not mad. he actually finds he loves the pregnancy quirks of yours

when you start getting those random hormone rushes, bursts of energy, running around doing anything and everything he gets so amused. but he loves it too when you also start getting sleepy

he really loves it when you get sleepy because then all you want to do is snuggle with him.

you get borderline violent about cuddling with him. you wrap your entire self around his body and you do not let go. even with his strength it's nearly impossible to peel you off him and if he does (he made the mistake once) you get extremely pissy and teary eyed

He will not let you do anything

and by that i mean you're not carrying groceries, you're not cleaning, you are not allowed to stand on ladders or counters, no picking up heavy things

You and him have a time of night and morning where you snuggle, and he'll designate time to talk to you, give you kisses and say sweet things, and then he'll move to talk to your belly

"Gotta make sure the lil one knows my voice"

He loves resting his ear on your belly, hearing both of your heartbeats.

he'll give you a kiss, then the belly, then you again

You better be ready to be touched a lot. He's always gotta put his hand on you somehow. It's not just about feeling your preggo belly but just you too.

NESTING

yeah, hes gonna drive you insane. He gets the urge to redo everything. the babys room. your room. the entire house/apartment if you're living in one.

He makes your bed the comfiest spot every so that's a perk. tons of pillows, only the fluffiest and warmest blankets

while you make decisions on the babys room together, he really wants to put the stuff together, so you sit in your rocking chair in the room and watch him as he gets angry over the crib instructions

it's really cute when he insists on a more foresty/woodland themed room for your baby.

As you get bigger, he gets more and more protective

he actually growled at someone once for attempting to touch your belly without permission. not a bad thing to have at least

it's a little more embarrassing though when it's your friends that you did say could touch your belly and logans hackles raise over it

he tries to recognize when he's doing too much but he can't help it, instinct.

Logan is over the moon when the baby kicks the face time

he just happened to have his hands resting on your belly

when he felt it, you both jumped, staring at your belly and then each other

when you realized it was the baby kicking, you both were like giddy teenagers

logan puts his head against your belly, waiting for it when the baby kicks again- right on his face

he gets slightly offended

but he kisses your belly anyway, promising your baby that he's always going to love them and take care of them

it pulls on your heart strings a bit

you and logan don't care if it's a boy or girl- and decide to leave it a surprise,

arguing over baby names though wasn't fun. you eventually though land on a name if its a girl, and a name if its a boy, names that you both adored

when you start shopping for baby clothes, logans looking at the little girl dresses and you could see the softness on his face, the way he adored the little dresses.

he can't even get embarrassed

it's so cute watching logan sit in the middle of the girly baby aisle, surrounded by pink bows.

he gets equally excited over the boys stuff too.

forever believe logan will just be a great dad in general

when you get big enough where doing things are hard on your own, logan starts definitely not leaving you alone very often

he helps you out of bed

with your shoes

if hes around and you're trying to get up from a couch or chair- even if you aren't struggling he'll still be there to help you up

you ever see those trends where dads hold mommas belly up to provide some relief? logan will insist on doing that.

he just thinks your so damn cute with your round belly

logan will eventually express his nerves about being a father. he'll need reassurance here and there that you think he'll do good.

you think logan would be an absolutely wonderful father of course. look how good he takes care of you

not to mention his non-bio daughters like jubilee, rogue, and kitty

and if lauras around too, it won't be like he never had any experience

logan will definitely stay calm and collected when you go into labor

he supports you every step of the way

if you're going to a local hospital, you bet your ass he'll be speaking for you and protecting you from anything unneccessary

all the while supporting you every way possible. don't worry about squeezing his hand too hard. he literally survived a nuke

despite the amount of things he's seen, it is still hard for him to see you in so much pain. he may even hold back a tear or two. he has to focus on you though

when the baby is here, he's all over you first, making sure you're okay. then his instincts kick in and he's all over the baby

that first cry breaks his heart and he doesn't like how the nurses and doctors seemed pleased by the whole thing. okay sure, it's a good thing. his baby is still crying though and he doesn't appreciate the smiling

you guys ever see that picture of Hugh bottlefeeding his newborn, i think it was during the x-movies filming. that is such a cute picture honestly it makes my utereus clench

he's so proud and supportive of you by the way. He takes wonderful care of you both when you get home

all that worrying for nothing. he was a pro with yours and his baby.

NSFW (mention piv, breastmilk, body worship)

yes i had to include an nsfw part here dont judge me

Logan should have known it would happen eventually. the way he always needs to finish inside you. even if you were using protection, he should have known that it would fail one day

he'll pick up on the hormones quickly, the smell of you triggers something in him and once you both figure out you'll pregnant itll all make sense

at first things are pretty usual with your sex life but the hormones start kicking in

you start gaining a little fat, your breasts get bigger, maybe your ass

you were already irresistable to logan before. now though, pregnant with his baby?

like i said, the mans always touching on you. when youre in private though hes REALLY touching you

don't worry, you feel the same. your hormones start to really kick in and you're aroused 24/7 and he can smell it

"you look so fucking good like this bub." he'll moan when he's thrusting into you, seeing your swollen belly and breasts.

it's not just about you being pregnant but you two just can't keep your hands off each other because you're happy.

your sex life was already very active, now it's even MORE active, like, you cannot keep your hands off him. he's the same way. you look and smell so damn good he can't take it, he HAS to fuck you

logan being a dad to your baby is making him 10 times hotter

logan probably cuts back on being rougher if you both are into that, much to your disdain. your hormones are on fire and you need him to fuck you hard

it takes a little begging and he breaks, giving you what you want

"look at you bub, fucking begging for it. as if i hadn't given you enough already"

logan practically drools anytime he sees you naked

as you get really big, sex becomes less common because you're not really comfortable, and maybe doctors tell yalls to slow it down for a bit.

logan will of course not do anything to risk you or the baby but fuck when you walk around in that tight black dress, tits and belly all swollen. he can barely stand it.

fortunately even if you aren't having penetrative sex, you're still fairly aroused so logan gets to get off to your hand or mouth. he'll return the favor with some light oral

he'll want to help you shower all the time

you're just so beautiful to him.

when you start getting self conscious over your weight gain, logan won't have it. he'll be doing some serious body worship doing your pregnancy, don't worry.

kissing your stretch marks, his hand rubbing soothingly all over your body as he whispers how beautiful you are

when it's closer to your due date, the doctor gives you a list of recommendations to help get things rolling

when logan finds out sex is one of those things, he's over the moon.

you personally, just want to get the mini canadian out of there at this point

it's not the first thing you try, because youre self conscious despite logans affirmations that he thinks you're so sexy

eventually you give in

lets just say you both were on the way to labor and delivery soon after

he adores your body after birth too. like i said. body worship to the maximum. even when you're not banging cause you need to heal first, he's kissing every inch of you to make sure you know he adores you. he sees how you've looked at yourself in the mirror and he isn't gonna have it

oh btw he'll definitely accidentally taste your breast milk straight from the source at some point. he really doesn't do it on purpose, he just got lost in kissing and sucking on you.

lost in the sauce if you may

he wants you to heal and feel good though, so even after the 3 months are up, he'll want to wait a little longer, because he doesn't want to hurt you. he's a big man.

EXTRAS: (random stuff )

the people who are around you are ecstatic over the announcement of your pregnancy

charles is just glad he gets to be a grandpappy (as if he isn't already)

maybe jean and scott are expecting too, or already have their little one, so you guys bond with the couple over parenting as well

wade immediately refers to himself as uncle wade

will also say "our baby" when referring to you and logans baby. logan does not like that.

wade makes a deadpool onesie. you have to stop logan from tearing it apart

okay but a onesie based on logans suit would be so goddamn cute

i said before that logan doesn't like ANYONE touching your belly. even if it's a trusted friend

if someone asks, very politely, you have to make sure logan isn't around before you say yes.

one time hank asked and you said yes, not realizing logan was coming around the corner. it was really embarrassing the way logan ran up so fast, immediately pushing hanks hand off.

hank laughed it off

im sure yall have your own ideas for what yours and logans baby names would be. I think Charlie would be really cute, naming the baby after charles (and it's a gn name!)

rogue, jubilee, and kitty, would be over the moon. they would be so supportive of you and logan

laura would be so excited, a bit curious. you and logan will make sure she doesn't in anyway feel neglected or replaced during the entire pregnancy and when the baby comes

laura is obviously a great big sister.

they would definitely tease logan too btw

you guys don't even need to register. due to the people you love around you- you basically get everything you need before you 3rd trimester even starts

you and logan can be assured that your baby will always be safe and loved no matter what because of the family you both have found. (yes even with origins and old man logan)

[lsunstreakerl]

Seconding the matching tattoo ask but except of in darkbull in SH and done in a safe environment

900 words for you, a little Search History slice of life :)

Daniel is blinking at him. Max stares at him over the table, their plates empty in front of them at the restaurant.

"Max. Do you seriously think I would have this many if the pain was anything like a car crash?"

Max wrinkles his nose.

"You do not need to make fun of me Daniel. I am of course just wondering."

Daniel rolls his eyes, bumping their feet together under the table.

"You'll barely notice it, I promise. Honestly, it's kind of impressive you haven't ended up with one already, considering how much you partied."

Max had almost gotten a stick and poke at one of Marc's parties in Catalonia, but thank god for Bezzecchi, who'd talked him out of it.

Granted, he'd then gone and sat right where Max had been planning on sitting and gotten his own, but-

Those guys are odd as a default.

Max also has zero intention of letting Daniel know about that, because it means admitting he was at a Catalonia party, which means inadvertently admitting to about fifty other things that happen at those parties.

He'll spare himself the embarrassment.

"What were you thinking of? You weren't exactly very clear in your text, mate."

Max lights up, feels a smile pulling at his mouth.

"I was thinking about a marigold flower, yes? Up my forearm- here, I worked out a sketch with the artist-"

He pulls the photo up on his phone. It's two orange Marigold plants- one has three leaves on one side of the stem, with three leaves on the other. The second has one leaf on one side, six on the other. Max had worried it would look unbalanced, but the way the artist had twined the flowers together- it still looks natural.

Daniel's face does that weird thing where he really wants to hug Max but isn't sure if he's allowed.

"They grow up so fast- and you two are nauseatingly cute, by the way."

"Shut up."

Max pockets his phone again, heart buzzing in his chest. He's excited about it- had never considered getting tattoos before, never really had anything so world-encompassing that he felt the need to ink it into his skin.

Charles, though.

He's worth it.

------

"Okay, but would it hurt more or less than your hair transplant- ow, why the fuck did you kick me?"

Pierre scowls at him.

"Say it a little louder next time, I don't think the people in the freezer section could hear you."

Charles turns his nose up as he inspects a bell pepper.

"I'm just wondering."

"That one is shit- get the one next to it, it'll be good longer."

Charles frowns.

"How can you tell? Also, what if I want to make it tonight? Max will not tell me where his is going, so I have no idea-"

Pierre leans over to take the pepper from Charles, setting it back in the stand and grabbing the other that he'd pointed out.

"The color- if you are not careful I will have Esteban give you the fruits and vegetables presentation. We both know you aren't cooking anything tonight, don't be stupid- and why does it matter where Max's goes? Pick what you like for you."

Charles dutifully takes the pepper, dropping it into the basket.

"I think between my shoulders? Or maybe my sternum, I cannot decide."

Pierre makes a face.

"Both of those would hurt."

Charles stares at him.

"I think crashing a Formula 1 car hurts worse, so I am not worried about my pain tolerance, Pierre."

He grabs an orange.

"I just wonder where he would like it better."

Pierre sighs, long and drawn out- exhausted enough that a nearby shopper looks at them weird. At least- Charles assumes that's why they're being stared at. That they're both still in their race suits has nothing to do with it.

"That is also a shit orange, Charles. I'm going to make Esteban give you the speech, and you're going to take notes, yes?"

"I thought it was a nice orange."

------

"I find it hard to believe you two need this much moral support."

Oscar's voice is dry where he's squished next to Fred in a corner of the tattoo shop. Pierre snorts, not even looking up from his phone.

"I won't speak for Max, but Charles is afraid of needles."

Max's head whips over to Charles.

"You did not mention that?"

"Thanks, Pierre. I am not that scared of them, I just don't like them. It is worth it for you, Max."

Arthur makes a disbelieving hum from another corner, but it's cut off with a strangled grunt as Logan elbows him in the stomach.

Daniel laughs from where he's sitting on an unused countertop.

"Well, I'm happy to hold whoever's hand needs it. And by that I definitely mean Max, no way he doesn't cry."

Max balls up a paper towel to throw at him, but it isn't quite dense enough, floats to the ground between them.

Charles bites his lip not to laugh.

"Don't be a asshole Danny, you said it wasn't going to hurt-"

"So maybe I stretched the truth a bit-"

------

The tattoo artist lifts the gun off, carefully wiping at Max's forearm.

"What do you think?"

"Oh wow- That is much nicer than the stick and poke Bez got."

Charles chokes on his water- they'd finished the morning glory between his shoulders a little bit earlier, and he's been watching the work on Max's since then.

"Sorry, what-"

[livingformintyoongi]

Valentine's Day Special Event

To celebrate this February 14th I have decided to make a small event for all of you!!! The rules are simple, you will go through four stations where you must put together your request as follows: First station - member: Choose the member you want the request from (only one!) Second station - gender: Choose a phrase you want to appear in the request (maximum 3!) Third station -AU Fourth station - Trope The event will be open until February 28th and requests will be published in order starting in March (those containing NSFW content may take longer than others). Special thanks to the creators of the prompts: @dumplingsjinson @me-writes-prompts and @nightprompts <3

➤ Choose your partner;

⁠❥ Kim Seokjin

⁠❥ Min Yoongi

⁠❥ Jung Hoseok

⁠❥ Kim Namjoon

⁠❥ Park Jimin

⁠❥ Kim Taehyung

⁠❥ Jeon Jungkook

➤ Choose your chocolate savor;

❥ Dark Chocolate (Smut):

❛ you can't expect me to do all the work. i want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do. ❜

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜

❛ do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? ❜

❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜

❛ you can call me whatever you want, baby. ❜

❛ we're going to fuck right here? what if someone sees us? ❜

❛ your body was made for mine. ❜

❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜

❛ you want gentle? wrong fucking address. ❜

❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

❛ it's my thigh or nothing. i'm not helping you get off. ❜

❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜

❛ i don't care if someone sees us. i need you, now. ❜

❛ now, i'll ask again, are you going to be good for me? ❜

❛ we both know how much you're going to enjoy this. ❜

❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜

❥ Chocolate (Angst):

"It's not you...it's me. I can't stop loving you."

"If I knew loving someone would hurt so much, I still would've loved you."

"I'm tired of being the only one who loves you. I need you to love yourself first."

"This is not the version of you I fell in love with. And honestly, I've forgotten the real you."

"Is it so hard to believe I've stopped loving you?"

"I can't live without you. I can't love without you. I need you, by my side, always did and always will." "You'll be okay. I know you will."

"It's not okay to just leave me here, after telling me you love me back." "We can't- we'll never be together."

"So you choose them over me? After all we've been through together, you choose them?"

"I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?"

"It's truly funny...how you can't choose who you want to be in love with. I didn't choose to be in love with you. It just happened, and I wish it didn't."

Walking in rain to their house just to find that they're no longer there.

"You can't go. You cannot leave me here. You promised we'll be together forever."

Playing the song they always sang together to, and just crying.

"It'll never be the same between us. We'll never be the same."

"Your silence speaks more than you ever have. And, I'm not sure why it took so long for me to notice."

"You've drifted so far away from my side that I can no longer reach for your hand and guide you back to me."

"I can no longer recognize you. And that's not even the saddest part. It's the fact that you no longer make any attempt to make me understand you."

❥ White Chocolate (Fluff):

“I see such a vivid picture of us in the future, and it’s looking so amazing.” 

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I regret it one bit.” 

“You make me a better person, love, and I hope you know most of this character development is because of you.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re tired. Go to sleep; I’ll still be here in the morning.” 

“I’m yours in this eternity, and in any and every other eternities which may lay ahead of us. I’ll always find my way back to you, no matter what.”

“Everyday I fall for you all over again and I find that to be pretty neat.”

“We don’t need a ring on my finger for us to know I’m yours forever.” 

“I gave you one hundred and one reasons to walk away, yet you never did. Why?” “Because I love you. It’s really that simple.”

“Remember when we first met here?” “Yeah, of course. That was the day when you spilled coffee on me and apologised profusely but all I could think about was how gorgeous you are and how great it would have been to get your number.”

“It’s always been you, and it will always be you. Please never forget that.”

“You make me feel all soft and mushy inside.” “That is a good thing, right?” “Of course! You melt me, love.”

“You’re an idiot.” “Well, at least I’m your idiot, right?”

“You’re the reason why I believe in love, you know?”

“Stop back-hugging me while I’m trying to cook! You’re distracting me,”

“C’mere and rest next to me. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

“You feeling any better?” “So much better now that you’re here. I love you".

“You always manage to make me feel like I’m worth it.” “That’s because you are worth it. You’ll always be worth it in my eyes.”

➤ Choose your bouquet;

❥ Tulip: College AU

❥ Rose: Royalty AU

❥ Lavender: CEO AU

❥ Jasmine: Artist AU

❥ Marigold: Celebrity AU

❥ Hyacinth: Coworkers AU

❥ Lotus: Florist AU

❥ Lily: Bad Boy AU

❥ Cherry Blossom: Coffee Shop AU

➤ Choose your date;

❥ Drive-in-movie: Second Chance

❥ Night Walk: Arranged Marriage

❥ Picnic Date: Friends To Lovers

❥ Bowling: Enemies To Lovers

❥ Karaoke Night: Roomates

❥ Dance Night: Established Relationship

❥ Amusement Parks: Body Swap

❥ Museum: Only One Bed

[mujingsi]

hi hali i promised annotations and i am here to deliver. but FIRST OFF. short and sweet playlist that i curated for this fic:

fly as me - bruno mars, silk sonic wide open (foreword) - niki saturn - lyn lapid you weren’t meant to see that - the rare occasions get it - keshi tsunami - niki nocturne (interlude) - laufey take a bite - beabadoobee

this fic is genuinely my roman empire and i think of it so so so much. thank u for putting ur whole writer-ussy into this. okay here we go,, Be prepared for a lot of incoherent rambling, dumb annotations that make no sense, and screaming.

It’s a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesn’t matter. Xander isn’t Jihoon’s first co-pilot and he won’t be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xander’s demands.

⤷ this is so fucking hot of him. ok sorry

They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that they’re two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like he’s talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. It’s not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilot’s. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well.

⤷ JM SO IN LOVE WITH CHAN AND WYLIE YOU WILL BE HESRING MORE ABT THEM FRKM ME!!! theyre sooo in tune w it h each other and just the JUXAPOSITION OF THEM WITH JIHOON WHO LITERALLY JUSTTTT LOST A COPILOT LITERALLY MAKES IT EVEN MORENPERFECT !!! i will take anyyy wylie and chan crumbs im so so so serious <3

He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so it’s only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day.

⤷ Oh my god idk i can literally VISUALIZE THIS SO WELL I CAN HEAR THE SPRAY OF THE SHOWER AND HIS HEAVING SIGH AND AND

“Ever heard of foreplay?” you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. “You really just dive in dry, huh?”

⤷ all i’m saying is that this is me. LMFOAODOEKSD

Storm Breaker. It’s a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. She’s built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot.

⤷ everyone stay calm. it’s happening. ITS HAPPENING

Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. “She bit me!” Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite.

⤷ LMFAOOOOO I LOVE WYLIE i wanna be friends with wylie and chan so bad I LOVE THEEEMMMM

“My new drift partner,” Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. They’re one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. “What? Look at her!”

⤷ BOOSOOKSEON COPILOTS!!!! I KEEP FUCKING WINNING!!!!!!!!!!!!! god i can already imagine the chaos,,, i just LOVE how youve characterized them all <3

A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherry’s absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little.

⤷ I LOVE WHEN FICS REFERENCE ESCH OTHER LIKE THIS IS LITERALLY SOOOOOOO GOOD UGGHHHH THE TIMELINES ADDING UP <33 i need to put the cherrybomb fic on my tbr!!!! bro im being so serious when i say ive never even consumed pacific rim AND YOU MAKE ME WANT TO CONSUME THE MEDIA PLSDLDFKGF

Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You don’t know why it’s the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. He’s dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket.

⤷ everyday i thank the universal super being that hali wrote long blonde haired jihoon. like r u kidding me. just look at this paragraph. everyone say thank you hali. thank you hali

“So are you my new co-pilot?” a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. “You must be, right?”

⤷ i like how this can be read as jihoon either being taller than reader OR him thinking better of himself than them, therefore “looking down” on them (shakes like a chihuahua) (i know its most likely the former but STILL i like it. i like how it can be read as physically or metaphorically.)

Your intuition tells you that you’re perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that it’s hard to get a hit in - you won’t get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him.  So you deviate.  Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.

⤷ ooohhh.... so reader is LIKE THAT!!! I CAN ALREADY SENSE THIS IS GOING TO BE SO OOOOO GOOD. im eating my fist

Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. You’ve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar. And you’re still on top of him.

⤷ AAUAEUEHEJEUEHRHEHEHWUEUE HES UNSETTLED!!! HE DOESNT LIKET HAT READER IS GOOD AT WHAT SHE DOES!!!! I’m going INSANEEEEEE!!! bro the palpable TENSION,, THE TENSION BETWEEN THEM IS SO FUCKING INSANE AND THEY JUST MET,, please let this be a she falls first but he falls harder FUCK!!!!!

Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. It’s already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-

⤷ THE TENSION IS SO FUCKJNN HGOODOFFDDJFKROWOWA

You’re pretty. He’s had attractive co-pilots before. That’s not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks it’s the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.

⤷ once again guys. HE WILL FALL HARDER!!!!!!!!!! AND I AM GOING TO DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUT JN A GOOD WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesn’t introduce himself, he’s not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and he’s been unable to find someone to replace her.

⤷ once again hali this is literally like. so insane how easily u are able to reference and bring alt fics into this,,,, like i am SO curious about chan and wylie’s relationship as well as cheol and cherry’s like it’s just SK GOOD AHHH

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.” “I didn’t say one was better than the other.” You smirk. “You don’t like differences of opinion, do you?” “I always value opinions. Some more than others.” “Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

⤷ screaming crying ripping my hair out THEYRE PERFECT FOR ONE ANOTHER!!!!! ALREADY BANTERING AND ALL THAT JAZZ

Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but it’s more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude. You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.

⤷ really like the mindset reader has it’s just an overall really good way to view life????? and i think it really compliments jihoon nicely

“Are you a coffee person?” he asks, because he knows you’re awake. Of course he does. You don’t answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies he’s willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. “Now you shut up?”

⤷ I, too, would be drooling. Me too. (barking loudly. snarling. FUCK!!!;!(!;!(!;!;&:&;)

Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, it’s sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background.

⤷ My god it’s so domestic. My hod. mmmm i love domesticity especially in intense situations .... in life or death situations ....... ughhhh the moments of peace and calm ....

“Meditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.” “What? Why?” “Just trust me.” “I don’t.”

⤷ this is me highlighting this passage and making little heart doodles next to it bc i LOVE BANTERRRRR

You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like there’s a spark.

⤷ i need them to jump each other’s bones already

“She did, but it doesn’t make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.” You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. “I am deserving of treated like an equal.”

⤷ god this entire passage is so powerful i love love when fics give reader Background and Character and mold them!!! and the way that reader is insinuating that they want jihoon to trust her ,,,,

There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though he’ll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while.

⤷ HES COMPARING HER TO MUSIC

⤷ EVERYOEN FUCKING STAY CALM

Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until he’s made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine.

⤷ guys it’s so FOMESTIC,,, it’s so FUCKING DOMESTIC IM GENUIENLY GOIGN TO CRY THE ACTS OF SERVICE THE THOUGHTFULNESS THE QUIET FONDNESS FUCK!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“You want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.” He nods at the accurate assessment. “Got it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.”

⤷ ik i keep saying this but i just really love how reader and jihoon don’t have to. Talk. to understand each other they just,,, do? they just know. they just KNOW

“It looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,” Wylie’s voice comes over comms. “Hey Woozi, do you feel like it’s composing one of those songs you like?” “Oh sure,” he shoots back. “Take your time, Wylie. It’s not like it’s trying to crack us like an egg.”  “Ugh,” you sigh. “Don’t talk about food. I didn’t eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? He’s always at the cafeteria first.”  Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.”

⤷ PLEASE,,, I LOVE THEM SOOOO MUCH THEIR BONDS ARE SO SILLY!!!!! I am so attached to them <33 love their relationships with each other!!

“So,” you ask the group. “Can we get hashbrowns now?” Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesn’t dislike you at all.

⤷ HES FALLING HARDDDDDD AAAAAAAAJKFDGHJDFKHGFJKGHDFKJG

You’ve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect.  Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You don’t think you’re quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence.

love love LOVE when people are close enough that they leave pieces of themselves in each other < 3 it’s always so good no matter if it’s romantic or not

He doesn’t feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you don’t know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you don’t know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds. 

⤷ i’m seriously going to bite my fist it’s the way that jihoon is slowly slowly opening up like a terrified shelter cat god i’m so so so in love with how u characterized his character hali omfg

“Five minutes until surface breach.”  “Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp.  “Sup?” “Would kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?”  Vernon groans. “Mood.”  Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghao’s voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. “Blue, everytime I drop with you you’re talking about food.”  “Have you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?”  “So it’s Ji now, huh?” “Don’t get her started,” Jihoon grunts at Minghao’s teasing. “One mile out from the line of defense.” Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. “Fang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!”  Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylie’s voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, “Be nice to him.”

⤷ LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE i’ve always been SUCH a big fan abt romance stories being more than just the (obvious) romance of the reader and character interacting w one another. the stronger and complex the relationships are w other side characters the better!!! like i can tell sm about ALL characters just from this little snippet!! like there’s so much to be implied here. the insinuation of emperor's mandate and storm breaker dropping together in the past? the implication that hao is catching onto jihoon letting blue in? the soft bullying of chan and how protective wylie is? i love it. love love love

It’s a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that he’s thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction.

⤷ oh shut up. oh actually shut up rn. AAAUUUGUGHHHHHHHHHHFJDJSHWHWJAKALEOWOFKR LET HER IN LET HER IBNNNNNN

“There was no reading!” Vernon yells back. “The signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!”  “Kaiju don’t have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!” “Maybe it got an iOS update man, I don’t know!”

⤷ PLEAAAASE THIS IS SO FUCKING UNDERIOUS I LOVE VERNON SO MUCH LMFAOAOAODOEODOW

“I guess I’m not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?” He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. “Come on, Ji. Tell me I’m a good co-pilot.” “No way.” “Come onnnn.” He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, “Can I show you instead?”

⤷ are you. kidin g me. MY FUCKJNG STIMACH DID THE FUCKJGN FLIP THJNGY HALI FUCK YOU JESUSU HFSJDFFHGCHRIST YJEOWIWOD YEOWLS

Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize it’s not, Jihoon’s feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoon’s worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you don’t lift yours.

⤷ OH MY FUCKIGN GOD!!!!!! OH MY FUCKIGNG GGODODDDDDDDDD. SCREMAING PULLING AT MY FUCKING HAIR. the first time they are uncoordinated.......... GODD........... YELLINGGUYS

A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoon’s scars.

⤷ its the way im fuckinf screaming into my PILLOW ALL OF THE JIHOON LORE,,,,,,

Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when he’s reassigned to a new pilot.  Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoon’s emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent. Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls.

⤷ SO MUCH JNFORMAJTON AT ONCE,,, OH MY GOD HALI. YOU ARE SOOOO GOOD AT WRITING INTERJECTIONS. AT WRITING LIKE. FAST PACED MOVING SCENARIOS my heart is actually beating SO fast reading all of this like i feel so full of suspense and yearning and hoping that everything will be okay

“Shit,” Jihoon swears. “Blue, come on. Come back to me. I’m sorry. Don’t chase my memories!” A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year.  “I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. “Come back.”

⤷ this,,,,,,,, this,,!!,,,,,,!!!!!!!!! THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE IS BREAKING THE STORM SHE IS THE STORM BREAKER. fuc k SHE IS JIHOONS STORM BREAKER IM GOING TO SOB MY HEART

You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought he’s ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didn’t dislike you at all - it’s all there for you to see. His soul laid bare.

⤷ I’m fucjfjnggnot on the floor hali

“So she’ll be okay?” he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. “You’re sure it’s not broken? It better not be broken.”

⤷ jihoon care agenda,,, ,, , ,,, fuck im so ruined. im such a goddamn fucking sucker for big climaxes that end with character A being so desperate about character B being okay,,,, and you NAILED IT!!!

Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.

⤷ chefs fucking kiss chefs. fucking kiss. idk just something about the way he has never been so direct about his attention on blue until now like ru kidding me. its like suddenly all there is in his life is blue and itm akes me want to cry (in a good way)

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.” “Of course I do.” “It’s hard to tell with you, you know?” His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.”

⤷ my live reaction to this:

Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. He’s brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.

⤷ allusions to storm ,,, he is the storm she broke ,,,,,

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.” Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.”

⤷ you were meant for me. you were meant for me. do you know how much that sentence means to someone who only ever had the textbook definition of love? are you kidding me? you were meant for me. being you means being for me. the meaning of you is to be mine and the meaning of me is to be yours

“Thank you.”  You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?” “Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.” “You’re worth it.” “I hope so. I want to be.”

⤷ hali. HALI. the promise of growth and character development. the sentiment of saying thank you for being there while i was difficult instead of i'm sorry you had to see me while i was difficult. once again the full circle back to withstanding the storm. she IS jihoon's storm breaker. god.

TLDR:

⤷ 10/10. this is absolutely one of my favorite fucking woozi fics out there. the world building, the character dynamics, the romance, the beautiful character development,,,, this fic really has it all!!! its genuinely genuinely genuinely one of my favorites out of the (probably five bajillion) fics i've read. and trust me when i've seen i've read a LOT of fics. i usually don't even reread them (i have a hard time enjoying when i know what happens next) but your writing is so so so goddamn good and keeps me on my toes and always has me wanting more. thank u for sticking along the ride of my crazy annotations LMFAO okay thats all goodbye!!!

Storm Breaker (l.jh)

Pairing: Jaeger Pilot!Lee Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot! f.reader  

Summary: It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise. 

Word Count: 23,373

Genre: Pacific Rim AU, Forced Proximity, Annoyed to Lovers

Type: Smut, Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Jihoon is a bit of an asshole, action/fighting scenes, brief descriptions of blood, mentions of offscreen deaths, brief mentions of sick parents, brief mention of having no family, sexual tension, explicit language, A Lot of Pacific Rim Techincal Terms But They’re Explained, terrible humor, a hint of angst, brief depictions of Jihoon being insecure about his childhood, sexually explicit content including nipple play, biting, a total of one (1) spank, oral (f. receiving), the slightest hint of voyeurism mentioned, unprotected sex (don’t do this), multiple orgasms, a lot of spit and cum, cum eating, vaginal fingering, a lot of biting, Jihoon is emotionally constipated and then lets it all out lmfaoooo

A/N: This is a re-upload from my old blog, since this was one of the stories that got blasted to the moon. Please enjoy PacRim Uji, who I love so dearly.

A/N 2: SPECIAL THANKS TO @daechwitatamic for not only collaborating with me on our little corner of the internet, but beta reading this giant piece and constantly motivating me while writing it. I could not be anywhere without you I love u 

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

Main Masterlist | Ask | Read Next: Cherry Bomb

Jihoon doesn’t flinch when Xander throws his helmet against the wall. The crash is loud, but the reinforced material doesn’t crack under the force of the concrete. It clatters to the floor while Jihoon tucks his helmet under his right arm. Sweat drips down the side of his neck and down his back, but he can’t get to it while in his Drivesuit. 

Just add it to his list of inconveniences.  

Everyone in the room freezes as Xander storms toward the command center and right for the Marshall in charge, his steps thunderous against the metal floor. Instead of following him, Jihoon leans against the doorframe, watching the way his co-pilot rages, imagining steam coming out of his ears. 

“I can’t fucking pilot with him,” Xander screams, stabbing an accusatory finger in Jihoon’s direction. “I refuse to do it. Reassign me.” 

Eyes drift toward Jihoon. He ignores them, watching as Xander stops at the command post where both the Marshall and the LOCCENT Mission Controller who just walked them through their kaiju fight stand. Both of them stare at Xander, who is red in the face, chest heaving. 

It’s a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesn’t matter. Xander isn’t Jihoon’s first co-pilot and he won’t be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xander’s demands. 

“Ranger-” 

Xander cuts off the Marshall. Bold, if you ask Jihoon. “I’ll leave the fucking program if that’s what I have to do. I won’t pilot with him anymore, I don’t care that we can drift. He won’t trust me, he won’t give up the reins and he refuses to let me in. He’s arrogant and pig headed!”

“Pig headed,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “That’s new.” 

The Marshall sighs heavily, eyes drifting toward Jihoon, who is still leaning against the doorframe. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, unsure what the Marshall expected. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Marshall asks Xander to follow him, gesturing toward the door at the back of the command center that leads into offices. 

Silence blankets the room at their departure. At least, as silent as it can get in the jaeger hub. The beeping of machinery and radar is a constant sound under the hum of machinery and the awkward cough of one of the workers in the room. Jihoon raises his brows as if to ask someone to say something. No one does and he nods, dismissing himself. 

Laughter trails up the stairs followed by loud steps. He looks down to see Chan and Wylie coming up the stairwell, cheeks flushed and hairlines sweaty from their battle with Dreadfury only minutes earlier. Their team had the assist on the kill, and though they hadn’t landed the final blow, their constant offense had given Jihoon and his partner the time they needed to figure out how to move in. 

Chan sees Jihoon and raises a questioning brow, pausing in the stairs. “Lose your co-pilot?” he asks, looking Jihoon up and down. 

“How’d you guess?” 

“Standard,” Chan and Wylie say at the same time. 

They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that they’re two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like he’s talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. It’s not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilot’s. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well. 

“Think they’ll just finally get rid of you?”

“Nope.” 

“Standard,” they both say in unison again. It’s Chan who says, “Must be nice to get away with murder, Woozi.” He continues up the stairs, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder as he goes. Wylie trails behind him, shooting Jihoon a grin. “One day you’re gonna end up on your ass.” 

“That’s fine. You’ll both take me in, right?” 

Both of their voices meld as they howl in laughter, passing him and going into the command center, yelling “Nope!” 

Despite their teasing, Jihoon smiles. He’s known the pair for years and despite their ability to get under his skin, he’s fond of them. They’re good jaeger pilots, scrappy as they come and vicious in the field. Unlike Jihoon, they’ve piloted their jaeger together from the start, syncing like twin flames and sticking to one another. 

It helps that they grew up together, of course. And that they’re in a relationship, one heart, one soul. 

Sighing, Jihoon jogs down the rest of the stairs, tired and sore. He needs a shower, food and a fucking nap. He and Xander had been pulling extra shifts, the kaiju activity having increased with the bad weather. He suspects it was also in an attempt to get Jihoon to bond with Xander more and get him to open up, but that hadn’t happened.

That’s the problem with piloting with Jihoon. The more time people spend with him, the less they can stomach the way he resists them in the mental bridge that connects co-pilots. It isn’t that he’s afraid for them to see what’s in his head - they haven’t earned a right to his privacy.

Privacy is important to him. 

Murmurs ripple through the cafeteria as he enters, rolling his head to the side to try and workout the kink that is formed there. He glances around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. Word spreads fast when you’re secluded in the Shatterdome with nothing but fucking ocean and giant monsters around you. 

As usual, he ignores the stares and whispering. He catches Soonyoung’s eye from afar and shrugs when his friend gives him a questioning glance, earning an eye roll. Not for the first time, Jihoon finds himself wondering why someone like Soonyoung or Wonwoo can’t be his partner. 

Drift compatibility. 

He knows that’s the answer, but he’ll never stop wishing that pairing jaeger pilots together was a little easier. So many factors go into making people drift compatible and yet he’s yet to find a partner he can tolerate - or tolerate him in return. If it were as easy as picking his friends, he’d have settled with someone long ago. 

Brushing away the thought, he heads to his room. It doesn’t matter what he wants. If wishes were horses, everyone would be a rider. He’s pretty sure that one of his former co-pilots had said that - in regard to Jihoon being impossible to work with, of course. 

The dark and quiet of his room brings the peace Jihoon craves. He feels the tension melt from his shoulders. He suddenly realizes how tired he is, feeling like parchment stretched too thin over a rough surface. He peels himself out of his clothes methodically, welcoming the chill of the room against his sweaty skin. 

He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so it’s only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day. 

Tomorrow, he’ll have a new partner. It’s a simple fact and a routine he is familiar with. That’s fine with him - they can keep assigning people to him until they find someone competent. Jihoon isn’t going anywhere. 

He has nowhere else to go anyway. 

-

“I need you to do me a favor,” Kira says before you can finish stepping out of the jaeger. The Marshall of the Sydney Shatterdome looks deadly serious. You scoff under the helmet, reaching up to unclasp it and shuck it off. Fresh air fills your lungs. It’s hot and tastes like metal in the jaeger bay, but it’s familiar. “And I need an answer quickly.”

“Ever heard of foreplay?” you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. “You really just dive in dry, huh?” 

“You know my cousin is a Marshall of a Shatterdome overseas?” 

You pause. “Yeah.” 

“They’re asking for a skilled pilot to pair with one of their Rangers. They sent over the drift profile and you’re the only pilot we have that’s a match.” You frown and she holds out a hand to stop your protest, a crease in her mouth. “Just look over the report and the profile I sent you, alright?” 

“I mean, my answer is no. I’m fine here.”

“You are. You’re one of our best teams,” Kira says earnestly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Maya. “But respectfully, your value is needed elsewhere. There isn’t enough activity here to keep a veteran of your status on shift, Blue.”

You feel a flicker of uncertainty. Rarely does Kira use your nickname. It’s too familiar for a military commander of her status, and though you’ve considered her a friend for years, she never uses your nickname on shift. Unless she really needs something from you.  

Licking your lips, you hesitate to answer. You don’t want to say she’s right about your skillset and risk insulting your coworkers and other pilots in the jaeger Program, but it’s an accurate statement. The Shatterdome you report to is old - one of the first built in the beginning. But kaiju activity is mostly unpredictable, shifting with the tides. You barely get them once a month anymore, and there are too many pilots who need the practice.

You don’t. 

You glance at Maya and she offers a soft smile. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be my co-pilot forever. Hoped, maybe. But I didn't expect it.”

“Oh come on, I’m with you for life, Maya.” 

“Romantic.” Maya’s gaze softens. “Marshall has a point, though. We’re a little… slow here.” 

It makes a pang go through your heart. Maya has been your co-pilot since your mother passed away, and though you didn’t go through the Ranger training program with her, she’s the perfect balance to you. You like having her around, and the thought of changing pilots just because someone wants your experience is… unideal. 

Sensing your unease, Maya reaches out and touches your forearm, squeezing over the metal of your Drivesuit. Her smile is soft. Knowing. Like she knew that being in the drift with you wasn’t forever, and she’s already saying bye. 

“Look,” Kira sighs, bringing your attention back to her. “My cousin really needs a skilled pilot and someone who is a leader and isn’t afraid of working with veteran pilots. They get more activity, and they need someone sharp. Skilled. Strong.” 

“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.” 

“Thank you.” She steps away. “I need to know by the end of the day, though.”

“Jesus Christ, Marshall. End of the day is in like two hours.”

Her smile is firm. “I know.” 

Waving her off, you leave your jaeger behind, Maya trailing after you. She peppers you with encouragement as you walk, steps heavy on the metal catwalk. You don’t respond right away, thoughts trying to catch up with being thrown an offer immediately after slamming a monster back into the depth of the ocean just minutes ago. 

You don’t have to ask why you. Drift compatibility alone is important enough to move jaeger pilots around the world from Shatterdome to Shatterdome in order to make the best pairs possible. There aren’t a ton of pilots - especially among the younger ones - at your base that are compatible with you.

Stubborn, Kira had always said. Finding an equally dominant co-pilot that meshes with you is difficult. You suspect that if you were not extremely talented at what you do and a veteran at your base, they might have moved you to an advisory position a long time ago.

Advising is not for you, though. The grind of metal and the heat of the fight is where you thrive, letting your mind go empty, entirely driven by instinct. Instinct was the reason you were so good at fighting kaiju. Your mom had always said you had the instinct of a warrior, and after putting down as many monsters to protect humanity’s coasts, you had to agree. 

Maya immediately goes to the shower once you reach your shared room. You dive onto the bottom bunk, snatching the tablet sitting on your night stand. Your eyes squint from the brightness, sensitive in the dim room. Clicking through your emails, you find the reporting and profile from Kira and open it, information unfurling before you. 

“Huh,” You muse, raising your brows as Lee Jihoon appears on your screen. “I know your name.” 

His profile is impeccable - and so is his skill. Chewing on your lip, you throw yourself onto your cot and flip through all of the materials provided on your potential co-pilot. Veteran Ranger. Highly skilled in combat. Top of his class in the academy. 

Clicking on the attachments, you watch the attached videos. There’s clips from his fights in and out of the suit. You find yourself hypnotized by his fighting style. There is a beauty to it, but it’s absolutely lethal. Efficient. There are no extra flourishes, no showmanship. Lee Jihoon fights to kill. 

“So why do you need me?” you mutter to yourself, pulling up his past partners. The list is extensive, stretching back to multiple co-pilots over weeks at a time. “Jesus christ. You do not play nice.”

He must not, at least. Half of the pilots assigned to him are only barely compatible. You know it takes more than just matching fight styles, but based on the history glowing at you from the screen, Jihoon’s Marshall was doing anything they could to keep him, even if it meant pairing him with someone who was scoring as low as 54% compatible. 

Pulling up your side-by-side analysis, you whistle. 98% was a good fucking number. You’d only ever had 90% with your mom, and she was genetically linked to you. Still, with as many partners as Jihoon has had in the past year alone, you don’t know that it’s worth it, even if his base has more kaiju activity and looks to be in need of veteran fighters.

Sighing, you close the tablet and throw it on the pillow. Resting your head against the metal wall, you close your eyes, thinking. You’re happy where you’re at. You’re a leader here, and you like Maya as your partner. She’s young and eager to learn - and you like your jaeger. Shadow Stalker is a good suit, though a little older. 

Biting your lip, you grab the tablet again, opening the jaeger details on Jihoon’s profile. Newer model. Built for endurance. Equipped with multiple blades, suited for pilots who prefer sword-style fighting. She’s painted gray-blue like the deepest part of a storm - blue like your mother’s first jaeger, which makes you grin. 

Storm Breaker. It’s a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. She’s built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot. 

Closing the tablet again, you stare into the distance, thinking. “What’s your deal, Lee Jihoon?” 

-

Jihoon hates sparring with Chan almost as much as he hates sparring with Wylie. Chan doesn’t scratch at Jihoon like a feral cat like Wylie might, but he does bite, which is exactly what he does when he can’t get out of Jihoon’s hold. 

“You fucker,” Jihoon hisses, letting him go. Chan slips out of Jihoon’s grasp and rolls to his feet a few feet away, crouched low and ready to go again. Despite years of being a jaeger pilot, Chan nor his co-pilot have fallen out of their scrapy upbringings, fighting like two street orphans. “What, are you going to bite a kaiju if you can?” 

“Of course not. I just don’t like losing to you.”

“Too bad.” Jihoon straightens and lifts his fists, planting his feet firmly. Sweat slicks the back of his neck, wispy pieces of hair escaping his hair tie and sticking to damp skin. “No more biting.” 

“No promises.” 

Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. “She bit me!”

Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite. 

Chan comes at Jihoon again. He’s a good fighter and he’s ruthless. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite things about him. But there’s always an opening, always a moment between fluid movements that reveals itself that Jihoon can take advantage of. 

He does exactly that, going on the defense, watching and waiting for the moment. When it reveals itself, Jihoon strikes lightning fast, catching Chan in the chest hard and taking him down to the ground. Jihoon feels the wind leave Chan’s lungs as he coughs hard, head smacking the mat. 

Behind them, Jihoon hears the collective wince. Chan is dazed for a second, groaning underneath Jihoon’s hand pressed to his chest. He can feel the hammering of Chan’s heart, a little faster than his own. When it’s clear Chan isn’t going to claw at him, Jihoon stands and offers him a hand.

With a heaving sigh, Chan takes it. Jihoon claps him on the back, grinning as Chan tries to catch his breath, rubbing the back of his head. “That hurt.”

“Oops.” Chan looks over Jihoon’s shoulder and grins, causing him to turn around and follow the younger’s gaze. Wylie sweeps her feet under Mingho’s, knocking him to the mat. She pounces like a creature from hell before he can react, pinning him down. “Well, at least one of us didn’t get our ass beat today.” 

“Stop biting, Dino,” Jihoon says as they trail off the mat, a warning. Chan has the decency to look chagrined, bowing slightly to his superior. Jihoon adores the kid, but he will not serve as a chew toy. 

Grabbing a water, Jihoon sits down on the floor with Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Seokmin as Junhui and Minghao trade places. Minghao is nursing a scratch on his neck from Wylie’s nails, muttering about her being a demon straight from hell as he sits. Wylie gives her new opponent a wicked grin, taking her place on the mat and beckoning Junhui toward her. Jihoon shakes his head, gulping down water and leaning back on his hands. 

“Fresh blood,” Soonyoung notes, gesturing toward the training room entrance as the Marshall leads a group of people in. “They’re holding trials for the two new mark fives tomorrow. Wanna go?” 

“No.” 

Soonyoung laughs. “Come on, they might be looking for another partner for you too.”

“Don’t care.” 

“You can’t keep going through partners, man.”

Jihoon doesn’t react, eyes scanning the group of cadets. They all look fresh-faced and in awe as they’re led around the mats, wide eyes glued to the sparring pilots as they go. His eyes settle on you, though, pausing. 

You don’t have the same awestruck wonder as the other cadets, trailing behind them as your eyes scan the structure, the fighters and the equipment around you. Calculating. Critical. You’re a little older than the other cadets too - not in looks but in aura, chin lifted, gaze sharp. Experienced. 

Soonyoung follows Jihoon’s line of sight and straightens. “Woah. Who is that?” 

“My new drift partner,” Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. They’re one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. “What? Look at her!” 

“You shouldn’t fuck your co-pilot,” Seungkwan mutters. “Look what happened to Seungcheol and Cherry. She’s still at that training facility in Alaska. Didn’t come back after their drift glitched.” 

A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherry’s absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little. 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung notes cryptically, eyeing Wylie. She’s managed to get Junhui off his feet, slamming him down with a rattle of mat and springs, pinning him with a savage growl. Wylie Coyote indeed, Jihoon thinks, smirking. “Seems to work for Wylie just fine. God, look at Chan, he literally has heart eyes. Disgusting.” 

It’s true. The pilot in question sits at the edge of the mat, elbows resting on top of his knees as he watches his girlfriend with his mouth open, lips upturned a little. His eyes are dazed, focused on Wylie as she holds onto a thrashing Junhui. There’s so much love in his gaze that Jihoon averts his eyes, worried he’s observing something sacred and private.  

“Not everyone is like them,” Seungkwan shoots back. “They share a brain cell.” 

“We’re literally drift partners. We basically do the same thing.” 

“And yet I don’t want to fuck you, Hoshi.” 

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. “You know, that brings up a valid question-”

“No,” the other three say at the same time, cutting him off before he can get going. 

Still, Seungkwan’s point is valid. The drift is something that is so intimate that it isn’t uncommon for copilots to have a romance or some sort of tension. The neural handshake makes you become one, unable to hide anything. It is inviting someone else into your head to see everything you see, everything you have seen. Memories, feelings, thoughts - nothing is yours anymore. 

Jihoon hides it all from his co-pilots. He knows he’s not supposed to - openness and being honest and true with your partner makes for a better drift. But the intimacy of the connection makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not ready for anyone to see him - really see him. 

So he hides in the drift. Knows how to bring nothing to it, to give only the parts of himself he has to in order for his partner to fight alongside him. Jihoon gives nothing more. And they don’t need it, frankly. 

The Marshall leads the new recruits back out of the room. He watches you go, wondering what your deal is. As though you sense his eyes on you, your eyes flicker over to his, catching his gaze. He’s unsure why, but he pauses, the room stilling for a split second. Then you’re grinning wickedly, vanishing from the room. 

He brushes it off and turns his eyes back to his friends. 

-

Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You don’t know why it’s the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. He’s dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket. 

He’s compact. Small, but toned, muscles rippling as he begins to go through a series of stretches. You know he’s a good fighter from your observations the day before. Everything about him screams efficiency. You can’t put your thumb on it, but the way he carries himself is methodical.

Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper. 

It’s the partners that he has a problem with. He’s had eight co-pilots in the last year alone, which is more than anyone has the right to. Before that, he managed to keep someone for six months before they requested a transfer to a different location. 

You sense Jihoon’s gaze, realizing he’s picked up on your staring. His expression is as neutral as it was yesterday, as though he has zero interest in whoever you are. He must not - he turns away and gets back to what he was doing, the moment passing without fanfare. 

Everyone in the room is paired with their pilots, going through fight sequences. You watch the different pairs, noting those who exhibit high-drift compatibility and others who are still learning. You note how many talented pilots this base has, likely due to the high activity. 

As though the thought summons the very creatures from the depths of the ocean, an alarm goes off. You don’t flinch, used to the kaiju alert system. It had gone off the day before, though. You look up at the screen as it flashes the names of the pilots on duty, calling them to report to the drop bridge. 

A few shouts of good luck draw your attention to the center of the room where two of the younger pilots head out. You’d seen them sparring earlier, so in time with one another that you weren’t sure where one began and one ended. The man looks at the girl and gives her a smile so full of love that you look away, startled at its intensity. 

While romantic connections between pilots aren’t totally uncommon, you’re not used to it. Most of the Rangers at your old base were family members and childhood friends, connection deep and intimate but not like that. You wonder what it must be like, if it makes love any easier to be that deeply connected. 

“So are you my new co-pilot?” a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. “You must be, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re not a cadet. And you’ve been watching me for the better part of two hours.” 

You shrug. “You can learn a lot from watching veterans.” 

“You could at least offer to spar to see if we’re any good together.”

“You mean to see if I’m good enough for you.” He lifts a shoulder, not disagreeing with you. Wiping your palms on your knees, you stand up. Even though he’s small, you’re still a little shorter than him, nearly eye level. You stick your hand out, giving him your name. “But you can call me Blue.”

Instead of taking your hand, he nods and turns on his heel, striding back to the mat he occupied earlier. You stand and stare at the newly vacated spot, hand held out in the air. “Alright,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your hand and going after him. 

Eyes follow you. You can feel them as you trail after him, watching his smooth, even gait. Everything about Jihoon is refined and controlled, even down to the minute expressions as he steps onto the mat and turns to face you. Sliding your shoes off, you join him, feeling the spring beneath your step and the softness of the floor.

Jihoon heads to a rack of bo staffs, picking one up and tossing it to you. You snatch it, spinning it lightly to test the weight. The balance is near perfect, a slight weight to the left side. You adjust accordingly, grip firm. Jihoon does the same, spinning his staff and rolling his shoulders.

“Who were those pilots called to make the drop?” you ask, conversational. 

“Dino and Wylie.” 

“Good pilots?” 

He takes his stance. “Excellent. They’re terrors. It won’t be a problem for them. Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Ambidextrous.”

“Good.” 

You don’t know why, but his assessing gaze bothers you suddenly. Like you know that even though you know you’re an excellent fighter, it still won’t be enough for him. The thought that you’ve lost before you even begun pricks a nerve and you strike first. 

It’s immediately obvious why you’re compatible. Jihoon knows your next move before you know what it is. You feel him move like an instinct, imagining his attack and defense before it happens. It isn’t a fight, but a dialogue, two skilled fighters communicating in a pattern only familiar to them. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and back. You barely register it, losing yourself in the rhythm of Jihoon’s movements. The sound of the training gym fades to the background and you barely hear the crack of your staffs as they meet over and over again. You hardly see him, vision fading to a narrow point of instinct.

This is how you fight. Muscle memory, driven by intuition.

Your intuition tells you that you’re perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that it’s hard to get a hit in - you won’t get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him. 

So you deviate. 

Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.

For a second, it’s just the two of you. His heart pounds, chest heaving in time with yours. Even your breaths are evenly matched, a tempo that is deeper than most human understanding. Drift compatible. You feel it the same way you feel the spark of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. You’re so aware of it that you don’t hear what he says at first, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.

“What?” 

“That doesn’t count,” he asserts. “I hit you first. The fight is over after that.”

You frown. “The fight doesn’t end until there’s a killing blow. A swipe to the ribs wouldn’t do it.”

“That isn’t how that works.” 

“There are no rules of engagement in the ocean.” 

He scowls. “There are basic principles to fighting. You lose when you get hit first.”

“Do you lose when a kaiju hits you first? Or do you keep fighting?” 

Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. You’ve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar.

And you’re still on top of him. 

Clearing your throat, you climb off of him smoothly. You offer a hand to help him up but he doesn’t take it, getting up on his own. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged peak and mouth twisted in frustration. You watch him as he gives the room around you a cutting glance, making everyone immediately turn back to what they were doing. 

Jihoon puts his staff back and you watch him. He looks minorly irritated on the surface, but you can see it rippling deeper than that. He’s unsettled and it makes you grin. 

“This won’t work,” Jihoon says as he turns back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his biceps flex and blink at him in confusion. “You can’t be my partner.”

“What? We’re compatible. That was one of the best fighting flows I’ve ever had.”

“We’re too different in principle.” 

That gets a frown from you. “I don’t think so at all. You let your instinct guide you. So do I.” 

“You deviate.” 

“I let the natural dialogue of the fight lead me.”

You let silence fall between you. You can see why so many other pilots had issues with him. Jihoon approaches every statement as though it is the absolute truth, a fact that cannot be disproven. He speaks with the authority of someone who knows he’s right often, and frequently goes unchallenged.

Instead of letting him get a rise out of you, you switch topics. “Are you hungry?”

He pauses. “What?” 

“What part of the question didn’t you understand? Are you hungry?”

Jihoon is perplexed. You’re sure that by now, mostly people have visibly grown upset with the combative dialogue. You don’t mind much, watching as he thinks on your question. You take the opportunity to appreciate the gentle slope of his nose up close, the delicate curve of his mouth, the contrast of feminine and masculine features that make an exquisite face. 

Then Jihoon unfolds his arms and walks past you. You turn to follow him but he says over his shoulder, “I don’t want to have lunch with you. We’re not friends.” 

There’s no room for argument in the way that he says it. You watch him as he leaves, never once turning back. 

-

You are vexing. 

There isn’t another word to describe you. Jihoon hasn’t the slightest idea how you’ve managed to so thoroughly irritate him at your first encounter, but he can’t stop thinking about how frustrated he is when he slams his tray down on the table. 

It’s a little early for lunch, mostly engineers and staff going on shift soon filling the room to eat quickly. The giant clock above the entryway to the cafeteria resets and Jihoon relaxes a little, confirming that Chan and Wylie are fine. He knew they would be - a Category Two kaiju is nothing for a pair like them.

Jihoon finds himself thinking of you. Of what you must be able to do in a jaeger.

Curious, Jihoon looks up your name. It rings a bell - you were pretty renowned at your homebase. Clicking through videos, he sets his phone on the table as he eats, eyes glued to the screen. Your drops are easily accessible to him, clicking through them as he eats. 

There is something hypnotizing the way you and your old co-pilot Maya Veliz fight. You’re efficient and without flashy moves, which he can appreciate. But there’s a speed at which you make decisions and take risks that has him shaking his head. 

Yet, there is something vaguely familiar. He pauses his meal to watch closer, realizing what it is. There is a brutality to your fighting that he recognizes in himself, a need to kill. You fight to win, willing to take a little damage if it means you can deal the final blow.

The thought unsettles him. Your fighting style is so similar to his that he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise. There is logic and calculation to your moves, but then there’s always that deviation. That random blip in your pattern that is unexpected and dangerous. 

“Will watching my drop footage make you like me more?”

Your voice startles him. He drops his fork and it clatters against the table, loud in the soft din of the cafeteria. You’re leaning over him, a smirk on your face and a devilish glint dancing in your eyes as you look at his phone screen where you successfully put down a kaiju. 

“Deathclaw wasn’t very impressive. It was pretty small. My mom and I took out Umbraxis my first year, though.”

Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. It’s already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-

You sit across from him and he looks up at you. His mind goes blank, staring as you unwrap your silverware picking up a fork to stab a piece of chicken and pop it into your mouth. You hum happily, totally unaware - or maybe unbothered - at his increasing irritation. 

“Tell me about your jaeger,” you demand - not ask. Your eyes find his, two pools of curiosity that have his tongue heavy, words sticky. “I want to know all about her.”

“You’re not going to make the drop with me.”

The curve of your mouth is wicked. “Tell me anyway.”

For a few minutes, Jihoon doesn’t answer. He waits to see if the silence will push you away or make you anxious. It doesn’t seem to. You keep eating without saying anything else, occasionally glancing at him with a cocked brow as if to suggest you have all the time in the world. 

“She was re-outfitted two years ago,” Jihoon says slowly. He doesn’t know why he’s answering you at all, but he continues, “Mark-5 now with the new outfitted tech - she’s still nuclear-driven to avoid any EMP attacks. Outfitted with GD6 steel-obsidian chain swords on each arm, but there are also smaller, detachable blades for hand-to-hand fighting, along with some projectiles. She’s also got a lightning strike powered by the nuclear-core but it can only be used once, and only as a last resort. It obliterates local wildlife in the water.”

“What’s the suspension look like?”

“Gyro-stabilizers to stay fluid when fighting and L-10 locks on all of the joints to strap in and withstand damage. She’s built to take a lot of blunt-force and melee attacks, but she’s top heavy if she loses footing.”

“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”

He nods. “Since my first drop.”

“She’s beautifully built.” 

Jihoon doesn’t respond. It does bring him a small sense of pride to know that you admire the jaeger he fights in, but he doesn’t thank you. He suspects you notice but doesn't say anything, which surprises him. You seem like the stubborn type who doesn't like to back down from a fight, and yet multiple times this morning you’ve conceded to him, refusing to get upset. 

It bothers him. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re a people pleaser or if you think you're gentle-parenting him, and he doesn’t like it either way. 

So he doesn’t talk to you. He lets the conversation die there, despite sensing your amusement from across the table. He feels the grip on his fork increase, metal biting into his palms as he tries to ignore you. He can smell the jasmine and amber of your perfume, which makes him feel more insane, and he can’t help but steal glances at you and dart his eyes away.

You’re pretty. He’s had attractive co-pilots before. That’s not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks it’s the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.

“Hi,” The raspy voice interrupts Jihoon’s thoughts and he looks up as Wylie slams her tray down on the table. She’s sweaty, freshly peeled from her Drivesuite and offering a hand to you as she gives her full name. “You can call me Wylie, though. Everyone does. Are you Woozi’s new co-pilot?”

“Yes,” you answer at the same time Jihoon says no. “Though I didn’t know that was the name he preferred.” 

Wylie shoots him a sly grin and sits down next to him. He curses and scoots over, the younger girl nearly on top of him as she leans her elbows on the table. “He doesn’t prefer it, which is why it stuck. He's a very cranky cat, but he’s nice once you get to know him.” 

Jihoon scowls, turning to her. “Did I invite you to sit down with us?”

“No.” 

That’s it. That’s the end of her statement. Jihoon watches as she settles happily, opening chocolate milk and chugging it back like it’s water. Jihoon cringes and readies to lob an insult her way when he’s interrupted again, another tray slamming down next to hers. 

Closing his eyes, Jihoon summons all the gods he doesn’t believe in to give him the god damn patience. Chan is wearing a shit-eating grin as he leans across the table, offering his hand in the same, chipper manner his partner had moments before. 

“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”

“Why Dino?” 

“I step on everyone.” 

You raise your brows, amused, eyes flickering to Wylie. Sensing your question, Wylie says around a mouthful of mac and cheese, “Like Wylie Coyote because I’m a menace who doesn’t stop attacking.” 

“How was your drop?” 

“Easy,” they say in unison. 

Jihoon focuses on his plate, feeling grouchy. They start to talk like he’s not even there, and though that is typically how conversations go around him, he’s suddenly bothered by it. Especially when you seem so smug that at least someone likes you. 

He wants to tell you they don’t count. Chan is one of the nicest people in the Shatterdome and will talk to anyone, if they give him the time of day. Wylie isn’t exactly nice but she’s in love with Chan and is happy to be nice to anyone who is being nice to him. The pair are relatively easy to win over. 

It only gets worse for him when Soonyoung and the others start sitting down. Everyone seems eager to ask you questions, a new shiny toy for his friends to play with. He chews on the corner of his lip, feeling stormy in the corner of the table as Seokmin peppers you with questions and exclamations at your answers. 

A shift in tension makes Jihoon look up. Seungcheol sits down at the table slowly, as though trying not to be a distraction or catch any attention. He’s three seats away from Wylie and out of her eyeshot, but Wylie is a born predator, sensing him like a hunter. Her eyes cut over to Seungcheol and she bristles, shooting up to her feet to grab her tray and storm off. 

Chan sighs, muttering a brief apology before grabbing his things and going after her. Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, watching the way his jaw ticks at the interaction. Surprisingly, you don’t ask any questions. You lean over to Soonyoung and ask him about some of their earlier fights, shifting the energy at the table from tense to light in a second.

Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesn’t introduce himself, he’s not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and he’s been unable to find someone to replace her. 

He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative. 

Jihoon does learn a little bit about you while listening to everyone talk, though. You've only had two co-pilots in your life where Jihoon has lost count. He wonders what growing up piloting with a parent feels like, and though you smile as you talk about growing up working with your mom, there’s a tightness to your mouth, a look in your eye that he can’t place.

Feeling his gaze, your eyes shift to him. Jihoon realizes he’s been staring at you. He stands and leaves the table abruptly, Seokmin’s voice apologizing on his behalf drifting after him. 

Thankfully, you don’t follow him. He dumps his tray and leaves it in the discarded pile for the cafeteria staff and immediately begins the climb to the command bridge where the Marshall’s office is. His thoughts race but go nowhere at the same time, an echochamber that he can’t untangle. 

Before Jihoon can knock on the entrance to the Marshall’s office, the military commander looks up and waves Jihoon in. “I was about to call for you. Shut the door, please.”

Jihoon does so without comment and sits down. He glances around the office, distracting himself as the Marshall finishes what he was working on. The office is orderly and tidy, every ounce the professional and uptight officer that sits in front of Jihoon, leaning back in the seat to sigh heavily and level Jihoon with a stare. 

Before Jihoon can open his mouth to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t be his pilot, the Marshall speaks. “You’re on probation.” 

“I - what?” 

“For the next three months, if you lose your co-pilot, you will be reassigned to administrative work or to a new Shatterdome.”

Jihoon opens his mouth. Closes it. The weight of the Marshall’s words don’t quite sink in, though Jihoon can tell they’re heavy. Real. “We’ve given you plenty of chances to effectively remain a pilot for Storm Breaker, but the board feels as though the trade off has become an issue.”

“The trade off?”

“You’re costing us money. And cadets. People want to train where they can potentially see themselves become a pilot. When we have open spots and jaegers coming up on retirement, it bolsters recruitment.” The Marshall levels him with a tired stare. “But when we have a pilot who no one can partner with, it puts us in a bind to send cadets where they will fit elsewhere.” 

“Look - “

“No you look, Lee. You’ve been a pilot here for six years. That’s considered a veteran in this field. But the higher ups grow tired of even veterans when they’ve been unmanageable for the last two of those six years.”

Heat flashes up the side of Jihoon’s neck, equal parts embarrassed and angry. He’d been the first in his class to suit up, selected as Haneul’s co-pilot to fill in for their partner that had retired. Jihoon remembers how proud - and nervous - he was and how easy it had been to partner with Haneul.

He didn’t have that anymore, the safety net of the only parental figure he’d ever known gone. 

“The pilots you’ve paired me with have no business being in a jaeger,” Jihoon says matter of factly. “I don’t respect them.”

“Well good thing we’ve given you someone to respect.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I can’t fight with her.”

“You can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. You’ll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me partner with her. I don’t like her.”

The Marshall stands. “One day you might learn that if you give people a chance, you’d like what you find.” 

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshall’s office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city. 

Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylie’s successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of. 

Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didn’t frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju. 

Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. He’s talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chan’s grief.

A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isn’t cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. He’s not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control. 

Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because he’s too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. He’s not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.

Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor. 

Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or he’s out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Can’t push you away like he has the others. 

And he hates you for it.

-

Music bleeds through the metal door out into the hall. You wonder how any of the neighboring rooms let him get away with it. Then again, Lee Jihoon seems like someone most jaeger pilots don’t go toe-to-toe with often, if they can help it. At least it’s classical music, the swelling sound of Mozart sweeping into the hallway as you open the door, propping it with your hip to haul the box in your arms through. 

Jihoon’s eyes snap open immediately. He’s lounging on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner of the room, face lit by the glow of the muted screen in the corner showing the rain and ocean spray beating against the Shatterdome. Nothing disturbs the seas at the moment, though you wonder in a hotspot like this how long that will last. 

A scowl twists his mouth. You let the door shut behind you, setting the box down on the media table by the doorway. “Mozart?” you ask, arching a brow. He glares at you, sitting up from where he had been lounging with his hands tucked behind his head. “A bit cliche, don’t you think?” 

“What do you know about music?”

“Enough to know that someone with balanced compositions that orchestrate total control and logic in its make is… not surprising for you.” He blinks in surprise. “I like Tchaikovsky. There’s something more mercurial to his compositions.” 

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”

“I didn’t say one was better than the other.” You smirk. “You don’t like differences of opinion, do you?”

“I always value opinions. Some more than others.”

“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

Jihoon closes his eyes and lays back on the bed. His blonde hair is undone, fanning around him in a silvery-white halo. “The trash chute, preferably.” 

“Wherever I want, got it.” 

He ignores you. You suppress a laugh and move into the room proper. It’s small, filled with only the essentials to house two people to eat, sleep, and shower. A small kitchenette sits to your left, hidden in darkness with all of the lights off. You spot a shelf filled with dry goods - mostly protein bars - and coffee. There is a sad excuse for a sitting area with a tiny table and two chairs next to the TV screen, a bunk bed with a wardrobe next to it, and a tiny bathroom.

Cozy. 

Pulling open the wardrobe, you see that there’s room for your things. You shoot Jihoon a sidelong glance. He certainly hadn’t moved his things over to take over the full wardrobe after his last pilot left. You wonder if he’s just used to being unable to use the full space or if he had made room for you.

You doubt it’s the latter. 

Ave Verum Corpus plays in the background as you unpack the tiny box that is your life. You hum along, shutting the wardrobe and padding over to the bathroom. Jihoon could be asleep for all you know, but you suspect he’s not. When you glance over at him after shutting the medicine cabinet, you see his foot tapping to the beat of the music.

“What other kind of music do you like?” His foot stops tapping at your question.

Turning off the bathroom light, you move to the door to break down the cardboard box you brought your things in. Jihoon doesn’t answer at first, his frame rigid with tension, as though he had forgotten you were there until you spoke. You suppose that’s entirely possible, if not a little unlikely. 

Just when you think he’s not going to answer, he mutters, “I like ballads.”

“Romantic.” He frowns but doesn’t say anything further. “What’s your favorite one? Or artist?”

“Go play twenty questions with someone else. I’m not interested.”

“I’m going to find out anyway.” He opens his eyes then. They’re dark, pupils blown as his face twitches in an almost snarl. “It is an inevitable fact that we will have to drift. I recommend making peace with that now.” 

“I’m going to bed,” he announces, flopping over on his side and crossing his arms.

You let Jihoon be mean. It does you no good to fight with him when you eventually need him on your side, and you can sympathize with him to a degree. He didn’t choose you as his pilot and he’s backed into a corner, a do or die situation that he can’t back out of. The only way is forward and it’s against his will. 

As he pretends to sleep, you occupy yourself on the top bunk with your tablet, sliding headphones over your ears so he doesn’t bitch you out. Flicking through online channels, you familiarize yourself with your fellow jaeger pilots at the Shatterdome, watching fight footage and interviews. 

You come across a set of popular pilots, only one of them familiar to you. You recognize the man from dinner earlier - he had sat down and the tension around the table had increased tenfold. Wylie had immediately clocked his presence and stormed off, Chan trailing behind her with an apologetic look.

Tapping on their information, you hum in interest to yourself. Seungcheol. You recognize the name, vaguely. He piloted Duellona Fury with his copilot, a woman you don’t recognize but that has a bright smile. They make a good team, totally in sync and feeding off each other’s energy. You wonder where she is now, assuming she’s the source of the tension between Wylie and Seungcheol.

You wonder what you and Jihoon will be like as drift partners. So far he seems to hate you, but he does tolerate you. It’s a start, if not ideal. You won’t start drifting right away - not for real anyway. Practicing combat drills and learning more about one another is the first step to any partnership, followed by practice drifts.

In the drift, there’s no room for hatred or enmity. Trust is paramount, but almost as important is respect. Respect for what you see in the thoughts and feelings of your partner, respect that they’re good at what they do and that they’re the best person for the job, respect that they are your equal. Too many partners get lost in trying to save the other, losing sight of being equally capable or feeling like they know better. 

Jihoon doesn’t seem capable of that. Not right now, anyway. It doesn’t matter, though. You’re his only option to stay in the jaeger program, and though he hasn’t said anything about it, you’re pretty sure he knows. 

“Can you shut the tablet off?” Jihoon grunts from below. You sigh heavily, tucking it to your chest. “The glow is fucking bright.”

“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.” 

“Yeah, so your tablet adds to the general light in the room.”

“Close your eyes.”

“It isn’t helping. Go under your covers.”

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in, you lock the tablet and shove it under your pillow. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but it’s more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude. 

You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.

-

You are not a morning person. Lee Jihoon, however, is a morning person. Which is why it takes everything inside of you not to launch your pillow at him when you hear the classical music wake you from sleep in the morning, making you lift your heavy head to look around the room, vision blurry.

Heat from a fresh shower drifts from the bathroom only a short distance away. You stare in confusion, blinking rapidly as Jihoon walks out of the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth furiously with one hand, looking at his phone with the other, blue light making him look like a phantom in the dim light. 

And he’s dressed in nothing but a towel slung low on his waist, making you nearly go catatonic. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen a body before - it’s just a body, and soon enough, you’ll be in his head. It’s important to get any weirdness out of the way because in the drift, you’ll bare everything. But for some reason the image of his small, compact body scrambles your brain this early in the morning.

Jihoon is built like a weapon, all sleek lines and hard muscles. He stands in the kitchen, setting down his phone as he opens cabinets and starts to make coffee, toothbrush still in his mouth. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, skin pale and smooth as the moon. 

“Are you a coffee person?” he asks, because he knows you’re awake. Of course he does. You don’t answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies he’s willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. “Now you shut up?” 

That brings a scowl to your face. “Yes, I drink coffee.” 

“Great.” 

He goes back to what he was doing, ignoring you entirely. Dragging your eyes away from him, feeling flushed and overwarm, you throw the covers back, scrambling from the top bunk. You land with a soft huff, feeling the chill of the concrete floor as you dart to the wardrobe to pull out clothes. 

“What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look at the TV.”

Got it, you think. He’ll make coffee for you but not do something as simple as answer what time it is. You do look at the TV, seeing the darkened feed of the churning ocean breaking against the walls of the Shatterdome. There are multiple camera angles, weather radar and Dome messages that break up the screen into sections. The time is in the top corner, flashing 5:13 am. 

“Ji, it is five in the morning.”

“Five-thirteen. And don’t call me Ji. I’m not your buddy.” 

Taking a deep breath, you mutter curses under your breath. “I’m going to shower.”

As expected, you get no response. 

The great thing about living in a billion dollar buildinding with hundreds of people is that there’s no shortage of hot water. You’re grateful as the steam fills the room, hot water making your coiled muscles melt the second you step under the shower. You let the frustration from the morning fade away, the rush of the water and the feel of it sluicing down your back-

A loud knock on the door breaks your reverie. You hear it open. Jihoon grunts, “I wasn’t done brushing my teeth. I need the sink.”

“Then use the sink.”

Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, it’s sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background. 

He’s back in the kitchen by the time you’re out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. You venture out into the main room in kind, deciding that if he is going to walk around in nothing but a towel, so will you. He barely gives you a glance from his bottom bunk, lounging around in low-slung sweats with no shirt, blonde hair splayed on his pillow. You ignore him in favor of the lone mug of coffee sitting in the kitchen steaming.

Gripping it and bringing it up, you let the ceramic warm you from your palms upward, inhaling before taking a tentative sip. It’s bitter but it helps you wake up. You glance at Jihoon from over the lip of the cup. He scrolls on a tablet mindlessly, as though he’s forgotten you’re there.

Neither one of you speaks as you finish your coffee. Turning to the sink, you start washing the cup out. You notice his used mug sitting in the bottom of the sink and pick it up, wash it and put it in the drying rack next to yours without thinking about it before returning to the bathroom to dress fully.

Once dressed and out of the bathroom, it’s almost six. Jihoon is bent over by the door, his boot on the coffee table as he laces it. Now fully dressed, his long hair is pulled back in a bun, a few silver whisps escaping and falling across his face. Again, you’re struck by how beautiful he is for a moment. 

He straightens and looks at you, raising his brows. Instead of answering him, you hurry to the wardrobe, pulling out your boots to slide them on and head to breakfast. You half expect him to leave you behind, but to your surprise, he lingers with the door open, dark eyes clocking your every movement. As soon as you’re done tying laces, he’s out the door and charging again, leaving you to scramble behind him.

Silence follows you into the cafeteria, which has the quiet atmosphere of an early morning. Workers and pilots ending their shifts sit at the table, scarfing down breakfast for dinner. Early shift workers hurry to grab a bite before heading off to the different parts of the Shatterdome. It’s not nearly as loud as lunch or dinner, but the soft din is inviting as you go through the line, following your new co-pilot wordlessly. 

None of the friendly faces from yesterday are in the cafeteria, so the two of you sit alone. Jihoon is methodical as he sets up his breakfast, each move calculated and precise. He eats the same way, finishing something entirely before moving on to the next time. 

His obsession with organization and control is almost fascinating, if not a little worrying. Instead of asking about it, you eat in silence, humming delightedly at the cheesy hashbrowns made available that morning. He casts you a single annoyed glance when he notices you enjoying your meal. 

Breakfast goes without a fight, though. Glancing at the large clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, you realize you only have a few minutes left before your day of training starts. Jihoon seems to be on the same wavelength, pulling out his phone to scroll through your schedule. 

“Meditation first,” he murmurs. He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands without preamble. “Do you think you can manage meditation?”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we haven’t spoken for over an hour.”

Confusion crosses his face, quickly followed by astonishment. He hadn’t realized that most of your morning has been spent in silence. His brows pull together, mouth turning slightly as he works over your words. It seems to make him unhappy. He narrows his eyes and his mouth twists before he turns and marches away from the table, leaving you behind. 

Mouth quirking, you follow quickly, not wanting to lose your way to wherever it is you’re supposed to report to. He walks faster this time, determined to keep you moving and on your toes. Wherever the studio designated to you for the morning feels like it’s halfway around the world. Jihoon leads you down a series of halls and stairs, never slowing his pace once.

By the time you get to a small, soundproof room, your calves are burning. 

“You need conditioning,” he mutters, noticing the way you’re a little out of breath.

“You basically just took me on a light jog,” you protest. “I think it’s fair to be a little winded this early in the morning.”

“It doesn’t matter what time it is. What will you do if we make the drop at four in the morning?” 

Jihoon doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he goes to the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, and crosses his legs. Instead of taking his bait and picking a fight with him, you sigh and stride into the room. He positions himself, ready for you to sit in front of him. Instead, you circle around him, sitting down behind him. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, twisting toward you.

“Meditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, try. It’s easier to feel your breaths and your heartbeat this way. Plus, there's less pressure if you don’t have to look directly at me.”

“Thank god for that,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like there’s a spark. 

The hum of the air condition is the only sound in the room. You close your eyes, leaning into Jihoon so that you fit flush together. You match your breaths with his, feeling your breathing slow down. Your heart slows to, like it’s trying to let him catch up, both of you melting into the same rhythm. 

Behind you, Jihoon relaxes. The back of his head rests against yours, both of you leaning into the touch, becoming the equal opposing force holding the other up. 

Balance is imperative in co-pilots. Jihoon needed to bring to the fight what you lacked and vice versa, the two of you making something whole, something complete. It’s a balance that’s not easily achieved, and though you’d always been a good pair with your mother and then maya, you know instinctively that it’s nothing compared to Jihoon’s counterbalance. 

A timer goes off in the room, startling you with how quickly time has passed. You blink your eyes rapidly, letting the room swim back into focus. For a second, neither one of you moves, content to lean against the other until Jihoon seems to realize he’s still pressed against you. He scrambles to his feet unexpectedly and you fall backward, losing his counterweight immediately. 

Thunking against the floor, you glare up at him. He smirks, looking down at you as he wipes dust from the back of his pants. “You should never let a co-pilot fall,” you huff, hauling yourself to your feet. 

“Good thing we’re not really co-pilots.”

“Yet,” you supply. You get up, stretching and feeling your joints pop. “Even you can’t deny that it was a great first meditation session.”

“Let’s go. We have sparring.” 

-

Jihoon doesn’t like you. 

He doesn’t like you, but he has to admit you are a perfect fit for him. You are loud where he is quiet, you make light when he remains serious, and you deviate when he’s planned. Yet somehow, you manage to mesh with him in your training, the perfect opposite force to him.

For the most part, you leave him alone. He can tell you’ve figured out when to bite back and when to eat your words. It’s become a game to him, throwing insults your way to watch whether you’ll riposte back or swallow your pride. 

The amount of times you swallow your pride impresses him, unfortunately. His original assessment that you are unpredictable and uncontrolled was wrong. He can see the way you actively meet his cold winter with warm summer, trying to melt him. 

He doesn't like giving you credit for your control, but he does so begrudgingly. 

Worst of all, he realizes that it’s not you he dislikes. It’s his situation, it’s knowing that you’re his lifeline and he has to accept you, and it’s knowing that despite his initial dislike, you’re a mirror that he can’t look away from. It doesn’t help that you live two feet away from him at all times, occupying every moment of his life just a reach-of-a-hand away. 

Training is tiring. It feels like he’s a rookie all over again, going through the exercises as the two of you learn to fight together, moving through meditation sessions, sparring, talking sessions - which don't really involve a lot of talking on his part as much as yours - and drop simulations. 

Drop simulations are the most exhausting for him. You bring everything to the drift. It’s nearly overwhelming at first how much you’re willing to show him. From the moment the mental bridge connects the two of you through the simulation software, Jihoon is shocked at the way you lay yourself bare. You hide nothing from him, letting him roam around your thoughts at his leisure. 

He feels everything you’ve ever felt. Elation when you make your first real drop with your first co-pilot, your mom. Sore ribs after a particularly difficult sparring match when you were a teeager in the training program. Pride when you finish the top of your training program. Terror when a fight goes awry and your mother overwhelms you in the drift, taking the full neural load of the jaeger to protect you. Rage at her doing so. 

“What happened here?” he finds himself asking, sticking near the memory. 

He thinks you won’t answer him, but of course you do. Unlike him, you’re open for the taking. “The hull was breached in my first year of fighting. My mother panicked because it was on my side of the jaeger and she tried to take on the neural load.” 

Jihoon says nothing. Piloting a jaeger alone overwhelms the nervous system and the brain, which is why each jaeger has two pilots in the first place. It can be done, but the risk for damage is always present. He senses where your conversation is going.

“We only piloted together for three more years after that. She was starting to struggle to make the drift, so we paused to get her examined. They discovered lesions on her brain and linked it to the damage from that day she tried to pilot alone.”

“She wanted to protect you.”

“She did, but it doesn’t make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.” You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. “I am deserving of treated like an equal.” 

He understands what you’re really saying, that he should treat you like an equal too. Instead of responding, he busies himself with studying other parts of you that you let him have. 

There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though he’ll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while. 

Every drift, you remain open to him, your thoughts for the taking. You don’t even hide the moments you’ve thought of him - both in occasional attraction and irritation. Irritation at him bringing nothing to drift, opening no part of himself to you. Irritation when he’s mean to you. Hesitant fondness when he does something nice. Confused attraction when he walks around in just a towel. 

Water sluices down his back. Jihoon’s thoughts are still foggy from three weeks of nothing but practice and drills. He also finds it harder to sleep sometimes in the room, his dreams filled with the scent of your amber and jasmine and the lively sound of Tchaikovsky acting as the soundtrack to his dreams.

You’re still asleep when he exits the bathroom. He’s made sure to turn the light off before opening the door, steam billowing out after him. He scoops headphones from the nightstand as he heads to the kitchen, towel snug around his waist. He pops the earbuds in, the sound of Mozart starting his morning as he begins to make coffee. 

Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until he’s made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine. 

On the way to the bathroom, he stops by your bunk. He hesitates for a second, drinking you in as you sleep. Nestled in that top bunk is the only place you’re as peaceful as you are in the drift. Your features are smoothed out as you slumber, mouth open a little, drool sticky on the corner of your mouth. Jihoon’s lips twitch a little and he shakes his head before reaching out to tap the ankle hanging off your bed. You mumble in response. 

“Get up,” he says gruffly. “You’ve slept long enough.”

He returns to the bathroom and shuts the door to get fully dressed. He knows you’ll be standing in the kitchen looking dazed and confused sipping coffee until he comes out and frees the bathroom for you to shower. 

The alarm for a kaiju alert goes off. He hears it blaring over his music and he pulls the earbuds out, opening the door half dressed in just pants as he looks at the screen flashing red. A Category Four kaiju has been sighted in the bay. His heart skips, knowing that Cat-4 kaiju are dangerous even for the most skilled pilots at the Dome. 

Assignments flash across the screen. Solar Saber and Fang Striker have been summoned to drop. Nervousness flutters in Jihoon’s stomach. He snatches a shirt and yanks it over his head, moving quickly around the room to grab boots. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, leaning off the counter. 

“Heading to the command deck. Come or don’t.”

“I’ll come.” 

You dump your coffee in the sink, jumping to action as you peel off your pajama pants, searching for cargos. Jihoon hardly realizes you’re changing in front of him - he’s seen it all in your head anyway - as he laces his boots. He doesn’t know why, but he starts to explain himself, “Dino and Wylie have a… history with Cat-4 kaiju.” 

“You want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.” He nods at the accurate assessment. “Got it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.”

Jihoon does. He fires off what he knows about the team. Their stats are fine, but a Category Four kaiju is new for them. They have a good jaeger. It’s on the newer side, nuclear powered with plasma cannons and a massive plasma sword that burns brighter than the sun, earning the machine its name. It’s piloted by a set of twins, which produce some of the best drifts in the jaeger program.

But there’s a nervousness in Jihoon’s stomach that he can’t place. Everytime his friends drop, he knows they’ll be okay - but he also knows the level of danger. Perhaps it’s because of Chan and Wylie’s accident last year or because they’re dropping with a team Jihoon doesn’t trust, but he suddenly wants to tell the Marshall to let Storm Breaker do the drop.

A hand brings him out of his thoughts. Your gaze is as calm as the surface of a lake, piercing. “We’re ready, if we need to be.” 

Of course you know what he’s thinking. Despite his best efforts, you seem particularly good at stitching the tiny threads that escape through Jihoon’s wall of ice.  

You drop your hand and grab the room keys, heading toward the door with top speed. His arm is warm where your fingers were a moment ago, burning like a brand. He shakes it off as he follows you out, both of you jogging up to the top level of the Shatterdome to observe. 

Crew races around the dome. Jihoon sees Seungkwan and Vernon rushing up the stairs to the command deck. He follows suit, you quick on his heels. People fill the room, talking over one another as they shout into headsets and screens flash different camera angles. 

The Marshall stands in the center of it all behind the LOCCENT Mission Controller who will walk the pilots through the fight. Jihoon doesn’t recognize the man giving them instructions, but he joins the wall of people standing behind him to observe the screens, taking a place next to Vernon and Seungkwan. 

You glance at Vernon and back to Jihoon, a question in your gaze. “This is Vernon,” Jihoon says in response. “He’s currently a jumphawk pilot. Could be a jaeger pilot if he could figure out the drift but he’s too screwy up top.” 

“Thanks, man.”

“You can call me Blue,” you offer. Your eyes drift to the screens. “Friends of the pilots out there?”

“Wylie is one of my best friends.” 

Instead of telling him something like they’ll be alright or offering words of comfort, all you do is nod. Jihoon respects that. Anything comforting would be a potential lie and useless in a world of blood and metal, salt and fire. 

The entire room falls into a steady cadence. Jihoon crosses his arms as he focuses on the screen. He’s mutely aware that you’re standing so close to him he can feel the heat of your arm, hands shoved in your pockets as you watch the screens, brows furrowed in concentration. 

On screen, Solar Saber churns the water toward a towering kaiju in the bay. The creature is straight out of a nightmare, a barbed tail whipping across the surface of the ocean, misting water as it does. From what Jihoon can tell, it’s got four legs, each equipped with long talons. Rows and rows of teeth reveal itself as the kaiju opens its mouth and roars, the vibration from the sound so deep that it vibrates underneath his feet. 

“I don’t like that tail,” Vernon mutters next to Jihoon. 

“It’s like a manticore.” Jihoon glances at you. You’re not looking at them, but your head is tilted in curiosity as you point to the screen. “Four legs, a curved tail with a barb. The webbing around its neck suggests it might have a frill.”

“Strike teams, confirm positions,” the LOCCENT controller says into the mic. 

“Fang Striker in position two miles north of kaiju and Solar Saber.” It’s Wylie’s raspy voice that crackles over the shared radiowave with the jaeger teams. “Perimeter is set.”

“Solar Saber ready to engage,” a female voice comes over the speaker. Jihoon recognizes it as one of the twin co-pilots, Jezzi. 

“Permission to engage.” 

As Solar Saber engages with the kaiju, the command deck goes quiet. People guiding the helicopters and ground teams speak softly into their mics, a level of tense calm washing over as everyone watches the fight ensue.

Solar Saber is beautiful to watch fight. The armor is painted radiant gold and the glow of the sword is magnificent against the stormy waters as it slashes at the kaiju. Jezzi and her sister Yaz are calm throughout their bout, their voices clear and communicative as the kaiju batters them. 

“Cut off the tail,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s going to-”

Jihoon sees what you do as soon as you say it. While trying to kill the kaiju with a direct blow, Solar Saber has forgotten about the tail. The tip of the tail shivers, reminding Jihoon of a cat ready to strike, and it does. One moment, Solar Saber and the kaiju are locked in a wrestling match. Next, the tail is hammering the hull of the jaeger, striking over and over again like a scorpion.

Chaos explodes on the screens. Jihoon holds his breath as red flashes across the screens as the tail breaches the hull of Solar Saber. A tingle settles over him, the buzz of nerves as he watches Solar Saber take a knee, ocean water surging around the jaeger as the kaiju’s tail continues to hammer the jaeger’s head open. 

Jihoon grabs the LOCCENT Controller’s chair and yanks him backward out of the way, jamming his finger against the button to speak. “Don’t let it force you under the waterline,” he barks. “Cut off that tail, Solar Saber. If it forces you down, you’re going to take on water and drown.” 

“The right panel is damaged from acid from the tail,” Jezzi yells over the comes. “Sword arm cannot engage.” 

“Then disengage, Solar Saber. Do not let it force you down another knee.” 

Yaz screams back something incomprehensible over the comms. The left arm of Solar Saber lurches, reaching for the kaiju’s tail. It catches, yanking at the appendage hard. The kaiju screams as the tail breaks where Solar Saber has it gripped. The kaiju frenzies, screaming wildly as frills - just like you’d predicted - shake to life by its head, vibrating back and forth in a threat display as its dismembered tail whips back and forth, spraying ichor. 

“Fang Striker engaging,” Chan’s voice comes over the comms.

It’s the Marshall who answers. “Fang Striker, hold the perimeter.” 

“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes. 

The Marshall turns to you and Jihoon. “We’re ready,” Jihoon says at the same time as you.

A string of curses leaves Marshall’s mouth. “Fang Striker, assist Solar Saber with the intent to disengage. Storm Breaker dropping in ten.” 

Heart hammering, Jihoon turns to follow you out of the command center, footsteps like thunder as you sprint to the jaeger bay. He doesn’t even think twice about dropping with you, any reservations about you vanishing as the fighting instinct takes over. 

You’re an entirely different person when you step onto the catwalk, your team already scrambling with pieces of your Drivesuit. There is an eerie calm about you. You meet his gaze head on as your team fits armored pieces of Drivesuit onto your arms. Jihoon sees himself reflected so clearly that he’s startled. 

“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment. 

“Show me what you’re made of,” he says simply. 

Your mouth curves in a wicked grin and you nod once, understanding. 

Storm Breaker is beautiful. The fondness for her sweeps over him as he steps into the cockpit. The screens come to life, casting blue and red glow all over as he steps into the Conn-pod. He sheds any reservations he has as the team helps him connect. You’re only a few feet away, stepping into the left side of the Conn-pod. 

Jihoon’s world shifts to screens and canned voices in his headset as the shield of his helmet closes. It’s Seungkwan he hears over comms saying, “Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.” 

“Do the pilots always take over the LOCCENT Controller’s here?” you muse, just to Jihoon. 

His lips twitch. “What can I say? Seungkwan knows I’m a control freak.” 

“Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…” 

The world around him goes mute for a moment. Jihoon’s vision flashes white for a second. He feels you then, your thoughts and feelings becoming his. They’re not overwhelming though. He feels focus and determination from you with an undercurrent of ferocity. All of your memories and other feelings are there too, but they exist in the background. You’re a seasoned pilot, Jihoon doesn’t have to worry about you chasing the rabbit and falling down a hole of memories. 

“Neural handshake holding and strong,” Seungkwan calls. “Initiating drop in three… two… one…”

Jihoon’s stomach flies into his throat as he falls away from the world. The world is nothing but freefall for a few seconds. He feels the thrill that shoots through you and smiles - he can’t help it. Bending at the knee, he braces for impact. You do the same, and the cockpit lands on the jaeger’s mainframe with a metallic clang.

“Calibrating right hemisphere,” Jihoon announces, feeling the machine start to power to life. “Calibrated.” 

You repeat on the left side, the full machine powered on and ready with both hemispheres locked in.

“Storm Breaker ready to pursue,” Jihoon says. He looks up at the screen where Fang Striker is engaging the kaiju. Outside of Storm Breaker, he might feel his heart race with panic. Solar Saber is overturned and he has no idea if the pilots are inside of it as it takes on water. “Two miles out from contact.” 

“Pursue.” 

Your first step as a team is perfect. Fluid. Jihoon knew it would be. He hates to admit that he was wrong, but he knows it is. There is a thread of satisfaction bleeding over from you as Storm Breaker charges into the ocean, water rising rapidly around the waist. 

Ocean water slams against Storm Breaker’s chest as you charge toward the fighting. Fang Striker’s comms are patched in, but Wylie and Chan are silent as they rip at the kaiju, pulling at one of its wings that it unfolded from its back. Fang Striker looks tiny against the hulking mass of the monster, but its team is doing what it does best, savaging the creature a little at a time.

“Storm Breaker half a mile out,” you announce, voice like steel. “Ready to engage.” 

“Engage at your discretion.”

“Storm Breaker,” Chan says over comms. “Try and restrain this motherfucker. We’ve got a loose plate in its armor to exploit but it keeps shaking us off.”

“Heard.” 

As if hearing Chan, the kaiju flings Fang Striker off. Fang Striker’s red body crashes into the ocean, Wylie cursing the kaiju straight to hell and about fifty other foul places. 

Storm Breaker engages, both you and Jihoon plunging into the fight. The kaiju swipes at you but you both duck together, dodging the swing as you punch hard from the left in tandem. You knock it hard, it’s head snapping to the side. As a team, you use the opening to wrap the right arm around the kaiju’s neck, squeezing it toward Storm Breaker’s chest in a headlock. 

Stabilizers and locks click into place. He grits his teeth, as though feeling the actual strength it takes as the kaiju roars and claws at Storm Breaker, trying to free itself from the headlock. Together, you put the left arm around it, adding to the force to keep the kaiju from slipping from your grip. 

Clawed blows hammer down on Storm Breaker. Neither of you gives way, tightening your grip on the creature and ignoring the way the talons scratch against the hull. Storm Breaker is built to withstand, and neither one of you flinches as furious blows rain down on you, fists hammering. 

“It looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,” Wylie’s voice comes over comms. “Hey Woozi, do you feel like it’s composing one of those songs you like?”

“Oh sure,” he shoots back. “Take your time, Wylie. It’s not like it’s trying to crack us like an egg.” 

“Ugh,” you sigh. “Don’t talk about food. I didn’t eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? He’s always at the cafeteria first.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.” 

Fang Striker appears from the sky like a creature from hell, a red streak of death as it falls. They land on the kaiju’s back, the force of the landing vibrating through Storm Breaker’s frame. The kaiju tries to twist in Storm Breaker’s arms, but you and Jihoon tighten even further. Fang Striker’s sword glints in the sunlight as it unsheathes. 

“Don’t stab us,” you say at the same exact time that Jihoon has the thought.

They almost do. Fang Striker buries the sword through the back of the kaiju, the tip of the blade peaking through its chest, almost scraping against Storm Breaker’s stomach. The monster thrashes wildly for a few minutes, clawing at Storm Breaker’s hull. Fang Striker hits the release on their sword, leaving it embedded in the kaiju’s back to stand and fire into the kaiju with plasma cannons. 

Jihoon feels the tremor of the shots land. There’s a final kick from the kaiju before it slumps, putting all of its deadweight on Storm Breaker. In unison, you and Jihoon throw the creature off of you. It lands with a crash, water surging around the creature as its weight drags it down before buoyancy pulls it back up.

Storm Breaker straightens, standing in the open water with a battered Fang Striker a couple of yards away. Panting, Jihoon looks across the Conn-pod where you’re already looking at him, shield on your helmet up as you grin at him. There is unguarded happiness there, nearly as bright as the sun that glints off Storm Breaker’s helm. 

“So,” you ask the group. “Can we get hashbrowns now?”

Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesn’t dislike you at all. 

-

“Would you slow down?” Jihoon asks, setting his tray down next to you roughly. He plops in the seat next to you, giving you a severe side eye. “You’re going to throw up the second you hit the treadmill eating that fast.”

“I want to get more bacon before they run out,” you whine. “They won’t make more once it’s gone.”

Uncovering the top of his tray, Jihoon reveals a heap of bacon slices. You oggle as he sets it between the two of you, shaking his head and scoffing. “Yeah,” he huffs. “I know. I brought more, so slow down.”

Affection for your co-pilot warms you. The affection is certainly one-sided, but you don’t mind. In the four months you’ve been co-piloting with Jihoon, he still hasn’t opened up to you.

Despite having made the drop five times together, Jihoon still brings almost nothing to the drift. You catch pieces of him, tiny snippets of memories or emotions or thoughts as you become one. You slowly use them to fit together the pieces of the Jihoon puzzle you’ve been working on every day. 

It helps that you live in such close proximity, too. Jihoon’s habits speak far more for them than his words ever could. Like the way he wakes up at the same exact time every day and tries to be asleep at the same time every night, or the way he meticulously cleans your shared living space every Sunday, or the way he starts every sparring session with the same eight-stretch sequence.

He still doesn’t talk about him in your time slotted for getting to know one another. It’s not therapy exactly, but every pilot team has designated time daily to talk things out. To work through things that are bothering them, or to talk about themselves. The more pilots know one another, the better they fight.

You know virtually nothing about Jihoon. He doesn’t talk about himself during sessions, so you talk for him. You tell him about your childhood, about piloting with your mom, about how much you miss Maya. He eventually starts asking questions. Provides responses.

“We’re on the drop schedule tomorrow,” Jihoon notes, flicking through his tablet on the table next to him. “It’s graveyard shift. Do you want me to ask Mingyu and Wonwoo to switch to the day shift?” 

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a critical look. “You’re awful in the mornings.” 

“Not when I’m fighting.” You snatch more bacon. “Would you rather me or Mingyu in a jaeger at two in the morning?”

“Point taken.” Both of you know the only person more miserable than you in the morning is Kim Mingyu. Jihoon nudges you with your elbow and gestures to the bacon. “Finish up. We have to workout soon.” 

“Ugh.”

He smirks. “Cardio day.”

“Ji, no.”

He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”

Now you know he’s doing it on purpose. There are few things in your training schedule that bring Jihoon joy like torturing you during scheduled workouts. He had started slating them each day, determined to harden your conditioning despite the fact that you’re already in decent shape.

Decent is a word in his vocabulary. He only expects perfection and even then, you’re pretty sure it’s unattainable. Still, you finish your breakfast and let him lead you to the gym, peppering him with whining and protests the entire way. He ignores them with a placid smile, hands linked behind his back as he walks. 

When you get to the gym, there are other pilots and workers using their free time to exercise. There’s only a single treadmill open, which Jihoon gets on easily. You start to edge your way toward yoga mats with the intention of not working out at all when he leans over to look at the time on the treadmill next to him. 

“You’ve been on it for an hour,” he grunts at some boy who looks like a cadet. “Off you go.”

The cadet scrambles off, almost forgetting to turn the treadmill off before he does. He bows in respect before shooting off like a frightened school of fish. Jihoon turns to you, grinning as he pats the machine. “For you.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpan. “Just what I’ve always wanted.” 

Jihoon’s grin only grows when you step onto the treadmill as he leans over the rail and turns it on, pressing the incline and speed buttons until you’re walking at a warm up pace. Which, for Jihoon, is a solid jog. 

As you jog, you fish out headphones from your pocket. You pop them in your ears, careful not to trip as the sound of classical fills your ears. You’ve taken to using Jihoon’s playlists, despite originally making fun of him for it. You find that it distracts you more than you thought it would, and it helps that you feel like a character in a fantasy movie running to an epic soundtrack.

You’ve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect. 

Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You don’t think you’re quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence. 

After your workout, you go through the same day you have everyday: meditate back to back, sparring, and your talking session, which mostly consists of you both sitting next to one another looking over your drop footage and noting areas for improvement. 

Jihoon’s shoulder is pressed against yours, his eyes focused on the tablet in your hands, tracking the slowed down movement of the video. He taps the screen, pointing to the right side of the jaeger that he pilots. “I was a bit slow here.” 

“It’s not your reaction time, you’d never punch that slow. That’s the arm that took damage two fights ago against Razorbill. Let’s talk to the J-Tech team and see if there’s a delay in the receptor. It might be a split second off.” He snorts and you glance sidelong at him. “What?”

“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”

“No.” 

Jihoon raises his brows. You can feel his surprise at your seriousness to his question. He obviously expected you to turn it into a harmless jab, but you mean it when you say, “Your reaction time has been perfect for the last sixteen drops you’ve made. If there’s a delay, it’s the machinery. Not you.”

He looks away from you, nodding once. The tips of his ears are red and he mutters, “Thanks.” 

Instead of pressing the matter like you want to, you smile and hit play again, both of you focusing on the screen once more to talk through the remainder of your allotted bonding time. 

In your room, Jihoon turns on the speakers, the sound of Pas de Deux from the Nutcracker floods the room. You pause by the wardrobe where you’re shucking your boots off, gazing at Jihoon as he moves into the kitchen silently, taking out two mugs, a box of peppermint tea and a kettle. 

He doesn’t feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you don’t know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you don’t know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds. 

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You turn away from him, busying yourself with your boots to spare him from making an excuse as to why he’s making you tea. Because you’ll know he’ll give one, provide you with some sort of excuse that it isn’t a favor or because you’re friends, but rather something like the tea bags are too large for one or I have to boil the water anyway. 

When you’re done changing for bed, he’s standing next to you, mug extended. He doesn’t look at you, instead finding interest in the cameras outside the Shatterdome. You take the mug from him and say nothing, knowing he’d rather you not thank him. 

Mug in hand, you climb carefully into the top bunk, crossing your legs as you nestle the mug next to you, pulling out your tablet to read. He gets into bed without a word, both of you existing in comfortable silence, just like Jihoon prefers. 

-

Alarms wrench you from sleep. You’re thrown forward in your bed, red flashing on the TV as the kaiju alert system wails. You wipe sleep from your face as you haul yourself over the edge of the bunk, landing next to Jihoon who is pulling off his sweats in favor of cargo pants as quickly as he can. You feel dizzy and off balance as you do the same, shoving one foot in your pants and hopping on one leg as your foot catches while trying to shove in the other.

Jihoon grabs you by the elbow, holding you steady as you shove your foot through the leg of your pants and shoot him a grateful look. He nods, letting you go to finish zipping his pants and digging around for a shirt. He can’t seem to find one, cursing under his breath as he roots around. You toss him one of yours instead, grabbing a pair of socks and throwing yourself onto his bunk to yank them on, quickly followed by shoes. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon mutters as he looks up at the screen, the red painting him in hellish light. “We’ve got a Cat-4. They’re dropping Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker with us.” 

“Dino and Wylie weren’t even on rotation.” 

“They’re not making the same mistake they did with Solar Saber.” He pulls out a tablet, squinting against the glow. “We're the last line of defense. Hao and Jun will take point with Fang Striker.” 

“Got it. Let’s go.”

You take off at a jog, easily keeping pace with one another as you go. There are jaeger teams moving about the building getting ready, the alarms still sounding as you navigate to the jaeger bay. Your team is already there and ready to fit you into Drivesuits, sliding each piece of armor on with practiced care. 

Jihoon catches your eyes from where he stands across from you, letting a team member slide his hand into a metal glove. His eyes are dark as the stormy sea outside, a bottomless well that you can’t seem to dive down into, but want to. His lips twitch a little and he gives you a nod, which you’ve come to understand is Jihoon for I trust you. 

Screens blink to life as you enter the Conn-Pod. Closing the front shield of your helmet, you immediately turn on open comms, listening as the Marshall and LOCCENT Controller on duty - you think it’s Nainsi - talking Minghao and Junhui through their neural handshake. 

The spine of your Drivesuit connects to the Conn-pod, your heads up display coming to life. You feel the metal whirring and clicking into place, rotating your shoulders and flexing your fingers as your jaeger team finishes connecting Jihoon to the Conn-pod before exciting and shutting the door firmly.

“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces. 

“Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence,” Nainsi answers. “Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”

It’s like jumping off a cliff into freezing cold water. You feel the flash of cold, vision going white for a split second before you feel Jihoon’s calm flow through you. He’s steady like an icy river, his thoughts, feelings and emotions hidden down in their dark depth where they can’t bother either of you.

You’re like rapids, rushing thoughts and feelings, pouring everything through the drift at him. He takes it in stride, used to the white-capped rush of information he gets from you each time you connect. Jihoon adjusts easily, already hitting buttons on his screen as images from your day flash through your mind - including you watching him make you tea in the kitchen.

Jihoon says nothing about that. He says nothing about the gentle wave of your embarrassment either as Nainsi says, “Neural handshake strong and holding.”

Chan’s voice crackles through comms. “Fang Striker on standby for neural handshake.”

“Copy. Storm Breaker prepare for drop in three… two… one.”

Dropping feels like falling through the core of the earth. For a few moments, it’s a flightless feeling as you fall through the Shatterdome. Then you land, knees absorbing impact as the head of the jaeger falls into the neck socket, locking in.

“Calibrating right side,” Jihoon announces. “Calibrated.”

“Calibrating left side. Calibrated. Ready to engage.” 

Nainsi confirms calibration and directs, “Storm Breaker, take north point defense two miles from the shoreline. Hold that line. Fang Striker, engaging in pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence in three… two… one.” 

You tune out the rest of Fang Striker’s drop as you and Jihoon behind to charge into the bay. The windshield in front of you immediately froths with sea salt and wind, battering down on the jaeger as the night sea surges against Storm Breaker’s legs. You cut through the water like a knife, carving your way toward the defense line as the jumphawk team flies into place. 

“Five minutes until surface breach.” 

“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp. 

“Sup?”

“Would kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?” 

Vernon groans. “Mood.” 

Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghao’s voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. “Blue, everytime I drop with you you’re talking about food.” 

“Have you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?” 

“So it’s Ji now, huh?”

“Don’t get her started,” Jihoon grunts at Minghao’s teasing. “One mile out from the line of defense.”

Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. “Fang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!” 

Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylie’s voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, “Be nice to him.” 

Everyone greets Chan after that. Jihoon shakes his head, amused. “Fang Striker, escort Emperor’s Mandate to engage. Four minutes until surface breach.” 

Black ocean ripples outward in front of Storm Breaker as you move. You near the defense line, the city lights like a sea of stars at Storm Breaker’s back. Air support circles overhead, monitoring kaiju activity and helping with positioning. You see the spotlights glinting on the surface, waiting for a kaiju to surface. 

To the east of your position, Fang Striker and Emperor’s Mandate cut through the water. Fang Striker’s red paint is violent against the night, but her build is small next to the towering white fury of Minghao and Junhui’s jaeger. 

“Storm Breaker in position,” Jihoon calls. You both stop moving, your jaeger coming to a standstill as the water sloshes around your waist. 

“Standby, Storm Breaker. Kaiju breach in one minute.” 

“Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker in position. Ready to engage.” 

“Engage at your discretion.” 

Comms go silent as the strike team waits for the kaiju to appear. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence pregnant with tension. You feel a tentative brush of Jihoon’s thoughts against you. You turn and glance at him, surprised. 

Jihoon is watching you with a stormy expression, thoughtful. “You thinking about letting me in that big ass head of yours?” You tease, just in your personal comms. 

He smirks and shakes his head, breaking eye contact to look out the front of Storm Breakers cockpit. “Not a chance.” 

It’s a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that he’s thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction. 

Your satisfaction only lasts a second as the kaiju breaches the surface in front of Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker. You watch in strained silence as the jumphawk team begins reporting what they can about the makeup of the kaiju.

Emperor’s Mandate engages immediately, their metal saber chain shooting from the right arm and punching through the shoulder of the kaiju. An electromagnetic pulse goes down the chain and it goes taught like a sword as Junhui slices upward, attempting to sever the kaiju’s arm. 

The kaiju lands a hard punch to Emperor’s Mandate in the middle, sending them backward into the ocean as the chain-turned-sword pulls out as they fall. Fang Striker is there before the kaiju can attack again, charging and tackling the kaiju at the waist. She’s not built for heavy fighting, but Chan and Wylie are vicious, clawing at the kaiju with their metal claws. 

“Fang Striker, roll!” Minghao orders. Fang Stricker does, using the kaiju as weight to rock themselves over and under the creature, vanishing beneath the water’s surface as Emperor’s Mandate lands a punch to the kaiju’s back with a plasmacaster, turning the night blue as the sparks flare. “Push and we’ll pull.”

Salt spray mists the windshield as you and Jihoon watch in silence. The kaiju is a massive, hulking beast with spikes down its spine and a nasty club tail that catches Fang Striker in the knees, taking her down. The two jaeger teams work in flawless tandem, punching when the other ducks, tackling with the other falls. 

In a way, it’s beautiful to watch the fury of what a jaeger can do. Your lips twitch upward as the fight starts to go their way, Emperor’s Mandate severing the leg of the monster as Fang Striker pounces on it, sinking both clawed hands into its shoulder blades and tearing through its hide. 

“Storm Breaker-” Vernon’s panicked voice gets cut off as your world turns upside down. 

You feel yourself slam against the restraints of the Conn-pod connecting you to the jaeger. A surprised shriek escapes you as you flip head-over-feet in Storm Breaker, crashing into the ocean with a violent slam. A kaiju raises itself from the water, rearing its head like a cobra as it shrieks, the sound shaking the entire hull. 

“What the fuck?” Jihoon screams over comms. Storm Breaker rolls as the kaiju strikes like a snake, barely missing you as it hits empty water. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“There was no reading!” Vernon yells back. “The signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!” 

“Kaiju don’t have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!”

“Maybe it got an iOS update man, I don’t know!” 

There’s no time to care about why or how a kaiju isn’t appearing on the reporting team’s screen. Whatever level it is, it’s fast. You and Jihoon get to your feet just as it strikes again, fangs striking at the windshield. It doesn’t crack, but the sound of kaiju bone against the glass isn’t promising.

Storm Breaker stumbles back a few steps before regaining footing. You both strike with your right fist, slamming into the neck area of the beast as it winds up to strike again. It looks like a massive cobra, coils and coils of kaiju body gathering each time it tries. 

A shudder vibrates through the jaeger as the punch lands, sending the kaiju back several hundred yards. You don’t give it a moment to recover, both of you charging as you equip short swords perfect for close-combat fighting and slicing. 

“I think it’s too fast to pick up a reading,” you shout over comms. “It moves so quickly!”

Fighting is a careful rhythm. You and Jihoon find it immediately, tuning out the sound of the other fight as you zero in on your target. It doesn’t matter that the kaiju took you by surprise, it doesn’t matter that Jihoon still hasn’t let you in, it doesn’t matter that somewhere, you have other friends in just as much danger.

What matters is this. The feeling of rage that flows from Jihoon - or maybe it’s you - as you both savagely plunge a sword in the serpent body of your enemy. What matters is the way you and Jihoon flow, two rivers with the same curves and dips, sliding around the kaiju as you strike again, spraying ichor into the sea. 

Storm Breaker’s sword extends from the right arm, reflecting the city lights briefly before you cut sideways. The blade slides clean through like a knife through paper. You and Jihoon both scream savagely in unison as the head flies separate from the body, sailing in the air for a moment before crashing into the surface as blood spurts from the main body. 

It flails for a moment longer before crashing under ocean froth and water. Victory surges through you and you look across the Conn-pod where Jihoon is grinning at you, stars in his eyes. You feel a moment of elation, laughter bubbling to your lips as Nainsi recalls you to the Dome, Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker standing victorious.

“That’s kill number six?” Jihoon asks, voice delighted. “We’re on a fucking roll.” 

“I guess I’m not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?” He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. “Come on, Ji. Tell me I’m a good co-pilot.”

“No way.”

“Come onnnn.”

He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, “Can I show you instead?” 

The left foot of Storm Breaker is yanked from under you. You go down screaming, feeling the impact of the seafloor as you go down in the shallows hard. Pain shoots up your left arm as you slam against the restraints keeping you attached to the Conn-pod. Lights flash in your heads up display and a sensor starts going off, the left arm of the jaeger going dead as it loses connection. 

Jihoon is screaming your name over comms as you grit your teeth, and gather your bearings. You suck in a sharp breath as you both scramble to get Storm Breaker on her feet. “Left arms gone cold,” Jihoon yells over comms. You manage to get Storm Breaker to her feet as you both throw out your right arm, bracing for impact as the kaiju’s head strikes again. “It grew back two fucking heads!” 

“Fang Striker pursuing!” It’s Chan voice over the comms. “Three miles out from contact.” 

One of the heads strikes at the helm again, knocking into Storm Breaker hard. Your world rocks as you shove with the full force of the right side of the jaeger, thrusters turning on as you launch the kaiju and its twin heads backward. 

“How the fuck do we kill this thing?” you screech, charging toward the creature as it slides through the water, coiling to strike again. “If we cut off its head again, it’s just going to grow another.”

“Stab it through the head? I don’t fucking know!”

Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize it’s not, Jihoon’s feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoon’s worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you don’t lift yours. 

Storm Breaker stalls, filled with mechanic screeching as the two of you clash in the drift in a moment of indecision. A storm of emotions batters down on you. Your lungs squeeze as you feel yourself torn away from the fight and into Jihoon’s memories, each one flitting by so fast you can barely resonate with them. 

A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoon’s scars. 

“... out of alignment!” 

Words crash through you as you feel a tremor go through Storm Breaker. Jihoon’s thoughts are like a hurricane tearing at your foundation. 

Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when he’s reassigned to a new pilot. 

Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoon’s emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent.

Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls. 

“Emperor’s Mandate two miles out. Preparing to engage!” 

Bitter coffee. Celebrating Haneul’s birthday. The sting of Chan biting him mid spar. Pretending he didn’t hate his childhood. Hiding the scared little boy behind a controlled exterior. 

“She’s chasing the rabbit!” 

Chasing the rabbit. You hear the word and vaguely realize you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Jihoon’s memories and emotions, completely unused to them in a space where you’re connected intimately. You try to gather your bearings, shutting down the images flashing across your mind that don’t belong to you as Storm Breaker gets rocked again. 

“Shit,” Jihoon swears. “Blue, come on. Come back to me. I’m sorry. Don’t chase my memories!”

A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year. 

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. “Come back.”

You can do this. You can withstand the storm of Jihoon’s consciousness. You shake him out of your head, sorting out your thoughts and his. It’s nearly impossible to understand where you end and he begins, but you manage to hold back the wake of his uncontrolled consciousness.

Blinking, you come back to the present. There are lights and warnings going off as Storm Breaker takes another strike from the kaiju. Fang Striker is taking on its other head, the kaiju splitting focus between two jaeger teams as it tries to split open the top of your jaeger. Wylie and Chan are yelling in comms and Emperor’s Mandate is in pursuit to help you disengage. 

The left arm of your jaeger is still cold, totally disconnected from the rest of the machinery. You run through a list of fighting options with one arm down. The right side of the jaeger is fitted with a sword, explosive and a plasma caster in the first of the hand. But the jaeger overall- 

“Light it up,” you tell Jihoon. His relief crashing into you like a tidal wave. He understands what you want to do immediately. You feel his agreement rather than see it as you both start to tap controls on your control panels. “Fang Striker, prepare for lighting strike!” 

“Fry this motherfucker!” Wylie screams. “I fucking hate snakes!”

The nuclear reactor at the core of your jaeger starts to charge. From the top down, your jaeger begins to power down, lights flickering out and screens going dead. Your heart hammers as the kaiju slams into the head of the jaeger over and over again, trying to crack the helm wide open. Storm Breaker takes the savage blows as all but the nuclear core shuts off.

A low hum begins to sound at the heart of the machine. You feel the vibration tingle in your spine as all of the energy flow focuses in the center of the jaeger, slowly charging and pulling electricity from everywhere else. It’s a slow process, the kaiju beating down on you as the core winds up. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon swears at a particularly harsh strike. “This fucking bitch!”

“We’ve got it,” you tell him. You look across the Conn-pod at him, his face pale behind the shield of his helmet. “She’s not going to break, Ji.” 

You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought he’s ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didn’t dislike you at all - it’s all there for you to see. His soul laid bare. 

“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!” 

Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder. 

Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.

You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes. 

Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”

-

Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry. 

“So she’ll be okay?” he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. “You’re sure it’s not broken? It better not be broken.”

“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”

“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”

He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think. 

Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.

Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.

He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine. 

“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”

“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”

“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”

He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.” 

Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot. 

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”

His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.” 

Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry. 

You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.

Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. He’s brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.

One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat. 

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.” 

“So crumble.” 

“Fuck.”

Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you. 

Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs. 

Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head. 

He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.

“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.

“Mmmf - difficult.”

This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.

Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest. 

“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.” 

Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.” 

So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there. 

“Having a hard time?”

“Jihoon.”

One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue. 

“Jihoon.” 

He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently. 

Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest. 

“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.” 

He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again. 

“Try now,” he pants. 

His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking. 

You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug. 

A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.

He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear. 

“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.” 

His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real. 

The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace. 

When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically. 

You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.

Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm. 

He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”

It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.

Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.

Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy. 

“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.” 

“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.” 

“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.” 

“How stupid of you.”

Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in. 

His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt. 

Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight. 

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”

Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.” 

Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you. 

His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.

“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless. 

Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong. 

His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy. 

“Oh shit,” you wheeze. 

He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath. 

His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”

“So come again.” 

You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips. 

Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard. 

He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.

With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.

Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders. 

“Thank you.” 

You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”

“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I hope so. I want to be.” 

With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.

“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?” 

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.” 

“Come on, we’re showering.” 

“No way, I am not moving right now.”

“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”

“Ji,” you whine. 

He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.” 

TAG LIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @kwonshiho @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @Burnt-horizons @Ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @fxckinbreathe @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen

[genderqueerdykes]

no hate to you or the 'socialisation' anon, but i don't think y'all are correct. gender socialisation is not a thing, and is an incredibly reductive way to look at the world. the presence of society's preferred genetalia cannot explain the entirey of how one was treated for their childhood, because that person would have to jump through so many other hoops to truly get the privileges of being a cishet man. society does not raise transfems to have 'toxic masculinity' because it was too busy beating them into submission for not adhering to the gender socially imposed on them. it doesn't matter if they possess penises, because they are doing gender wrong and need to be punished. if a trans woman is speaking over her trans brothers and being stubborn and close-minded, it's not because she's 'mansplaining' to them, as the dynamics of cisnormative gender roles can't carry over to a community of gender deviants. she's just being an asshole.

there is a transandrophobia problem in the online trans community and a lot of it is coming from a certain subset of transfems. but we can talk about them without resorting to blatant terf rhetoric (such as, y'know, contracting trans woman into 'transwoman'. a few trans-positive folks online do it as but paired with the rest of anon's message it doesn't strike me as such.)

tysm for the feedback & criticism!

i don't see it as hate when people provide criticism!

thank you for giving me another perspective on this and other talking points! i appreciate you & everyone else who reached out! i'm NOT always right on things and i need to also be told when i make a mistake. i appreciate you so much. i need to be told when i'm wrong, too. thank you for the corrections! i see now where my line of thinking was totally off base! i've unfortunately heard so much of those kinds of things parroted inside of our own community that i adopted it, too, and it's not okay. it's not okay when i adopt a dangerous line of thinking.

genuinely, thank y'all so much for the feedback, and for doing so in a polite and informative manner! y'all are awesome. i seriously appreciate every single person who reaches out with criticism in an informative manner. i have seen nothing but 100% constructive criticism on that ask and i wanted to thank y'all for being amazing and giving me new perspectives and information so i can correct my own dangerous thinking. i am not always inherently right on everything, so thank you so much for providing extra info!

this might sound stupid af but i genuinely makes me feel more at ease knowing that my followers are willing to step in and tell me when i've been out of line. that gives me a sense of confidence knowing that people aren't just going to support me when i step out of line because they feel obligated to. that's huge to me. i don't want people to just pat me on the ass and ignore when i've said something incorrect. apologies for the bad take, but genuinely thank you so much for letting me know that when i step out of line, i won't be coddled for it.

[psiioniicarts]

Oh damn I love the way you draw Gabriel and Six!!

Haha six looks like a silly hobo but in the best possible way like a really bad father figure who is also a creepy guy. But I love him (platonically)

And Gabriel well he's just Gabriel :) He looks so huggable and welcoming but we all know what this guy is like don't we?

(all hail our true saviour am I right??)

Anyways I love your art and your AU holy crap I must see more of it! I cannot wait to see what else you have in store for the future! I wish you much love and take care of yourself :) 💙 Thank you for being so incredible and just being a bright light in this community!

Okay goodbye now 👋🏻

“Silly hobo” is certainly one way to describe him 😂 I do agree he looks like a divorced father tho. Here’s a bare minimum sketch from me (AiA!AU)

[annoyinglilbro]

I meant we need more of that story involving big brother kisses, you need to let them fuck, you cannot keep holding your creations in stasis right before they fuck(you can im just being silly)

Sincerely-meow

You want them to fuck? Fine! They’ll fuck 😤😤 just know im actually horrid at actually writing sex whoops

Big brother is between his little brothers legs, kissing at his thighs and watching the way he squirms and tenses. He hooks his fingers in his shorts, pulling them down his thighs and exposing the wet cunt underneath. He lets out a groan when he spreads him open, his little cock twitching now.

“Fucking perfect…”he mumbles to himself, biting into the boys thigh and listening to him whine. Every sound out of his little brother sends a shock of electricity down his spine, it’s addicting.

He uses his thumb to rub circles over his cock. His little brothers sucks in a breath of air, his hands tangling in the bed sheets. His head is fuzzy and his body feels so light, like he’s floating. He can’t stop himself from letting out a loud moan when a tongue presses against his throbbing cock. His brother is basically making out with his cunt, wet noises filling the room. When his brother presses one of his fingers inside him he has to slap his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. He doesn’t want to wake anyone else up, doesn’t want to be interrupted. But it’s so hard to stay quiet when his brother is sucking his cock like this and curling his fingers inside him, hitting all of his most sensitive areas.

“Please please please..” muffled begging rings through his older brothers ears and he thinks this might be his new favorite sound.

A second finger slides in beside the first, scissoring him open and making him toes curl. His thighs instinctively try to shut, squeezing around his brother head at the building pleasure in his stomach.

His brother pulls away from his cock, pulling another whine from the younger boys lips.

“Wha…why stop? What’s I..”

“Shh shhh I’m not stopping calm down.” He inches his way back up to his little brothers face, kissing the corners of his mouth and god he can taste himself there, sweet and satisfying. “Have you had sex before? As the bottom? I need to know.” He curls his fingers again, making his eyes roll.

“N-no I haven’t but please? Please I need it, I can’t I’m” little brothers words are panicked, scared they’re going to stop and he’s going to be left with this dull ache all night, but his big brothers words just shushes him again. Places another kiss to his lips.

“I’m not stopping, I just needed to know how gentle I have to be, okay? I got you. Big brothers got you.”

He pulls his fingers free from the heat between his brothers legs, sucking them in his mouth in a way that’s so ethereal it almost makes his little brother cum just from watching. His big brother is standing, shoving his own pants down and exposing his own cunt, tdick hard behind the curl of pubic hair.

“C-can I…can I try?” His little brother asks, almost too quiet to hear. “Like what you did for me?”

“Fuck…yeah ofcourse you can.”

Big brother who climbs ontop of his little brother, his knees on both sides of his head when he lowers himself down. His little brother is hesitant, he gives a few shy licks at first but it isn’t long before his big brother is gripping his hair and fucking his face. He’s being rough, rutting against his tongue and pulling his hair so harshly tears prick at the edge of his eyes again.

“Fuckin made for this..oh fuck ahh I’m gonna..oh fuck..” when he cums he grinds down roughly, back arching and a loud groan leaving his mouth. His little brother does his best to lap everything up, catching as much of it as he can on his tongue.

He backs off his face, admiring the way he looks. His little brother is a mess in his bed, hair messed up and face shiny with his juices. His lips are parted as he takes small shakey breathes and his eyes are half closed, he looks blissed out.

And then he sniffles. He sniffles and pouts up at his big brother who is kick to lean down and caress his face, kissing him all over.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, I got too rough there I know. You did so good though, so so good for me.”

“Y-yeah? I did?”

“Ofcourse, baby boy. You did so good for me. And now I’m going to fuck you, gonna make you cum on my cock. You want that baby?”

His little brother wipes his tears on the back of his hand, nodding his head.

His big brother is climbing off his and rummaging around in a drawer. He pulls out a harness and a dildo, it looks so big to him but maybe that’s because he’s never been fucked before. He watches as his brother slides the harness on, stroking the cock in his hand as he makes his way back over to the bed.

“You gonna take my cock like a good boy?”

“Y-yeah…is…is it gonna hurt?”

“It might alittle, but I stretched you. And it’ll feel really good after, you just have to push through it abit yeah?”

He nods, his body tensing when the tip presses against his entrance. His big brother sighs, caressing his face softly.

“You have to relax.” He leans in and kisses him.

Their mouths move together in sync, his big brothers tongue pressing into his mouth and licking about. It makes his head feel more fuzzy than before, and slowly he feels his body start to relax. The cock presses into him at a slow pace, making him whimper and whine against his brothers lips.

“S’okay, yer okay..” he mumbles against his lips.

When he finally bottoms out, his little brother feels so full. His stomach is tight and everytime his brother moves he can feel it in his tummy.

“Good boy, so so good for me. Taking it so so well.” He soothes when he finally starts thrusting.

His little brother gasps, hands instantly clinging to his shoulders and nails digging into the skin. His lower lips quivers as fresh tears prick at his eyes.

“H-hurts…”

“I know, I know baby. Let big brother kiss it better again, okay? Big brothers kisses make everything better, right?”

The younger desperately nods, groaning into his brothers mouth when they reconnect. Maybe his brothers kisses really are magical, because the pain dulls and is replaced with a tingling feeling. He feels warm and his back is arching to meet his brothers thrusts.

“There we go…see? Told you it’d feel good. So fucking good for me. You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on big brothers cock?”

Little brother lets out a cracked whine, eyes unable to stay open. When he cums it’s like a blinding light takes over his vision, his senses all seem to leave him. He doesn’t even notice the way his brother covers his mouth to muffle him.

“Fuck…you did so good, little bro. So proud of you.” He’s pulling out of him, kissing up the sides of his face and showering him in praise.

His body is too exhausted to really react, the most he does is whine in response. But his big brother is there to take care of him, knows exactly what to do. Hes already wiping off his face and between his legs with one of his band shirts before flinging it across the room. His little brothers eyes are closed and his face looks much more relaxed than when he first showed up. He helps him pull up his shorts, and when he opens his eyes again his brother is back in his pj pants and crawling into bed to cuddle him.

He holds him clothes, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head.

“Feel better?”

“Mm…sleepy..”

“Yeah, that’s normal. Get some sleep, little bro. I got you.”

[forabeatofadrum]

Bagagedrager

Summary: Kurt is biking around the city, but to his annoyance, a tourist is obstructing his way. Luckily, this pesky interaction leads to something else.

Notes: Sometimes, an annoying moment takes place in your day and the best way to deal with it is to think "How can I blorbo-fy this?" and that has led to this fic.

Thank you @cerriddwenluna for helping me brainstorm!

Title is from Gers Pardoel's number Bagagedrager, which I actually don't even like that much, but it's iconic. A bagagedrager is the rack on the back of your bike that's used to store your bags, or people can use it as an uncomfortable backseat.

Enjoy.

AO3 | S&C

--

Spring maar achter op bij mij, achter op me fiets

En ik weet nog niet waar we naartoe gaan samen, maar dat boeit me ook helemaal niets.

--

Kurt loves cycling. It makes living in the Netherlands way more enjoyable than America. He would like to think he's assimilated enough to get the cycling rules. Sure, he's fucked up once by not extending his hand when he braked in order to turn left, and he almost created a chain collision, but that was weeks ago! He's gotten better!

And because he's gotten better, he now knows what's rude and what's not. And what is happening in front of him now, is rude.

There’s a man standing in the middle of Kurt’s path, and he’s holding up a phone to make a photo of a beautiful building.

Tourists.

Kurt cannot blame him. He remembers when he first moved to Groningen and he also spent a lot of time taking in the sights. But he can blame him for the fact that this asshole is obstructing his path. He waits for this man to finish taking his photo, but then to Kurt’s dismay, the man doesn’t move when he’s done and instead takes his sweet time to post it online, or whatever.

Seriously?

It's a narrow road, so it's not like Kurt can go past him, unless he decides to bike on the pavement.

Kurt rings the bell.

The man startles and looks at Kurt with wide eyes. Kurt gestures towards the path, and the man realises what he's doing.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, sounding apologetic, but he's still not moving from his spot.

"Sam, come on," they hear. And then another man appears to gracefully whisk away his friend from his spot on the road.

"Thanks," Kurt says, and turns towards his saviour.

And he almost falls of his bike.

This guy is very cute!

"Oh. Uh. Thanks," Kurt stutters out, "Again."

"No biggie. Sorry for my friend," the guy says.

"Dude. Damn, I was so caught up in this," the first guy says, "Let me make it up to you!"

"That's not-" Kurt starts. He'd rather just go on with his day.

"Please, let me!" he sounds maybe a bit too desperate.

"Sam-" the hot one cuts in.

"Trust me, bro, trust me," the first guy, Sam, says to his bro.

"Uh," is all that Kurt can muster.

"Okay?"

Sam takes out a note and a pen and quickly scribbles something down.

"Here. My number. I'll pay a coffee or whatever. Maybe a muffin."

"That's not need-"

Sam shoves the note in Kurt's hand.

"Send me a message."

"Are you... hitting on me?" Kurt asks to be sure. How else can he explain Sam's utter glee at asking Kurt out?

Sam laughs.

"No, I have a girlfriend."

"Okay?"

This is getting weirder and weirder.

"Sam, I think he just wants to continue his trip," the hot one says and he gives Kurt an apologetic look.

"Yes. I would like that," Kurt says with a pointed tone in his voice.

Sam apologises again, but then finally, he lets Kurt go on with his day. Kurt gives an awkward nod as a farewell and bikes on.

What just happened?

--

A couple of hours later, he texts Sam. He almost didn't plan to do it, but he's craving a coffee, and maybe a muffin, and if the offer stands, it stands. Kurt's not going to pass up free coffee. And Kurt wants to know if Sam is serious.

It seems so, because Sam is once again apologetic and asks Kurt to meet up at Toet, a café that specialises in desserts.

Kurt has nothing better to do, so he goes. He bikes towards Toet, because of course he does, this is the Netherlands, and waits for Sam inside.

But to Kurt's surprise, Sam isn't the one who arrives.

It's the hot one.

"Hi," he says.

"Uh. Hello?" Kurt says back.

"I hope you weren't too hopeful about seeing Sam, cause he sent me!"

"Hello," Kurt says again. Truly, this entire ordeal did not go as planned.

But he also doesn't mind. He only came here for the free coffee and muffin, so he has to admit that he's not too bothered about Sam not showing up.

"My name is Blaine," the hot guy introduces himself.

"Kurt," Kurt says back. He had sent his name to Sam in his message, but he doesn't know if Sam told Blaine. "So, uh, what exactly is going on here?"

Blaine turns a bit red.

Or maybe it is just the cosy lightning.

"Sam, uhm... Okay, I will be upfront. I think you're cute and Sam is setting us up."

Kurt's eyes widen.

"I mean, if you're- That's- If it makes you uncomfortable- Argh, sorry! Let me just buy you the coffee and muffin and I'll go," Blaine stutters out and turns around to see if he can order.

"Wait," Kurt leaps out of his seat and grabs Blaine's arm.

Blaine looks over his shoulder.

"I don't mind!" Kurt says quickly, "Truly. I'd rather have you here than Sam. No offense to him."

"None taken," Blaine says.

"Kurt lets go of Blaine, so that Blaine can finally, properly, take a seat."Kurt lets go of Blaine, so that Blaine can finally, properly, take a seat.

"I admit I think you're hot too," Kurt says. It is true, but he's also glad to have gotten the option to get to know Blaine.

Damn, was this all one big elaborate scheme from Sam?

"Sam is truly sorry, though," Blaine says, "He didn't think. He was too busy sending a nice photo to his girlfriend, that he didn't notice he was blocking your way."

Okay, still an honest mistake, with a nice consequence.

It would be a bit creepy if Sam knew him before today and deliberately looked up Kurt's route just to play wingman.

Blaine tells Kurt that he's been living in Groningen for as long as him, and that Sam's visiting him. Kurt also tells Blaine more about his life and how he ended up here.

It's nice. They're hitting it off.

They order two coffees and a piece of cake to share.

"Sam's buying," Blaine says gleefully, and Kurt is grateful for Sam's convoluted plan.

After two hours and another piece of cake, it's time for them to part. It was an unexpected, but succesful, first date.

"Can I get your number?" Kurt asks once they're outside. He'd rather have Blaine's number up front, instead of having Sam be a messenger.

"Sure, of course," Blaine looks happy.

"I'd like to see you again," Kurt adds.

"Same," Blaine says with a smile.

They quickly exchange numbers.

"See you," Blaine says with a wave.

"Yes. Definitely," Kurt says back.

He watches Blaine unlock a bike and then bike away. Kurt smiles. He also unlocks his bike to go home. During his way home, he passes the building that Sam was photographing.

"Thanks!" he yells towards the building, which leads to some confused bystanders, but Kurt doesn't care. He bikes on, happily humming a tune. He can't wait to text Blaine.

--

En spring maar achterop bij mij, dan gaan we samen weg,

En ik weet nog niet waar naar toe, maar dat maakt niet uit want ik weet wel de weg.

--

End notes: Shhhh don't think too much about why Kurt and Blaine are living in Groningen. I chose that city because I recently visited it for the first time and I liked it. Also, since I've only been to Groningen once, I have no clue where their initial meeting is taking place, or if a place like that even exists. I actually didn't go to Toet, although it was recommended to me. I preferred to go to the cat café, but Toet felt like a fitting place for them to have their first date.

Hope you enjoyed.

[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Sorry, was really sleepy when writing that request. But did meant it when said you're doing really cool stuff!!

So, can please ask for current Bochum Electra (that silvery one. glows pretty) x reader, doing cuddles. Or just living. Anything like that. Like, how it works for them. Are Components ok with that. Should they (reader) be worried about getting zapped a little. :)

And thank you in advance!

You're totally okay! This made me definately understand it a lot better, thank you for explaining it further :]

Well I hope that you enjoy!

She/they/he for Electra

So one thing is absolutely the most important thing about dating Electra is that you’ll have to kiss ass

I don’t make the rules, I just tell you them

They have a huge ego and it must be fed. Especially by the person they care about the most

They’re also extremely childish, will stomp their feet if they don’t get what they want and more things like it. Like zapping the person or threatening to zap someone

Electra is the epitome of grace and yet they act like a spoiled brat most of the time

Luckily for you, by now you know exactly how to go around it. Gentle words spoken to them to let them calm down their explosive anger, making sure little things you have control over are in the way he likes it. Just subtle things you know to calm them down

She doesn’t fully take over the entire relationship with her needs, he’s just a bit more high maintenance than you might be used to and although it’s a bit exhausting, it’s more than worth being with them

The components are completely fine with you dating their boss. Just know that they’re a really tight knit family almost so just know you’ll see them come by a lot more than most ‘employees’ would (Electra cannot go without them let’s face it)

This also means that you’ll get at least a monthly check up with Wrench, that Killerwatt constantly has to protect you just as much as Electra because fans can be crazy and that you hang out with Volta and Joule a lot. Hope you like a mean boy and wild card girl next to you at almost all times

As for cuddling he will always be big spoon, unless he really really needs to be reassured which doesn’t happen a lot

You have to be a bit careful around him, because he might accidentally zap you during cuddling. I cannot explain why I think this, but it fits so do with this as you will

She loves loves loves playing with your hair when you’re in her arms. He just can’t keep their hands off of you in general while you’re laying against them

He might not be the most comfortable person to lay against, he certainly makes up for with by giving you scalp massages with his long ass nails

[zeroseuniverse]

Lights, Camera, Action!

Word Count:725 Summary:“Relax, it’s just acting. It’s not like we’re actually in love.” “Right! Exactly!” she said, maybe a little too quickly. Pairing: Yuta X Fem Reader A/N: Posting this early because I adore him so much

Navigation

If someone had told her years ago that she’d one day be stuck in a romantic drama with Yuta Nakamoto, she would’ve laughed in their face.

Not because Yuta was a bad co-star—he was one of the most charismatic actors she knew. And definitely not because she hated the idea of being in a romance with him. No, the real reason was far more ridiculous.

People already thought they were in love.

She and Yuta had been best friends since they both debuted as rookie actors, climbing their way through the industry together. They had the kind of friendship that was full of playful insults, dramatic threats, and way too much time spent in each other’s personal space.

If she had a press event, Yuta was there hyping her up in the comments section. If Yuta was seen with any female co-star, she was the first to start fake crying about being “betrayed” in their group chat. Fans adored their chaotic dynamic.

Which is why, when they were cast as the lead couple in Love at First Overtime, the entire internet collectively lost its mind.

—

“I cannot believe this,” she groaned, sprawled across the couch in Yuta’s dressing room. “They did this on purpose.”

Yuta grinned from his spot across the room. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“The producers. The casting directors. The universe.”

“Oh, definitely the universe.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s just fate.”

She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. “Shut up, Nakamoto.”

He caught it easily, laughing. “Relax, it’s just acting. It’s not like we’re actually in love.”

“Right! Exactly!” she said, maybe a little too quickly.

Yuta’s gaze lingered on her for a second too long before he shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to make it really convincing, huh?”

—

Everything was fine until the kiss scene rehearsal.

She had kissed people on-screen before. So had Yuta. They were professionals. This was nothing.

Except, it was something.

The moment Yuta stepped closer, something inside her brain short-circuited.

His scent—clean, musky, familiar. His eyes—watching her like he was waiting for something. His hands—resting on her waist with a touch so light it sent shivers up her spine.

Her heart wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

Yuta hesitated, brows furrowing slightly. “Why are you holding your breath?”

“I’M NOT,” she blurted out, shoving him away. “I just—I just remembered I left my stove on at home!”

Yuta stared at her. “You don’t cook.”

“…Maybe I started today.”

The director sighed. “Alright, take five.”

Yuta followed her backstage, arms crossed. “Okay, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing!”

“You literally ran away from me. Twice.”

She groaned, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know, okay? Maybe it’s just weird! We’ve been best friends forever, and now we have to pretend to be in love—”

“Pretend?” Yuta cut in, raising an eyebrow.

She froze. “Uh. Yes?”

He took a step closer. “You sure?”

Her stomach flipped.

“I—Of course I’m sure!” she snapped, feeling a little too warm under his gaze.

Yuta smirked. “So you wouldn’t mind if we kissed right now?”

She let out a choked laugh. “What kind of question is that?!”

“Just checking.”

She turned away, completely ignoring the way her cheeks were burning.

—

Later that night, She found herself scrolling through clips of their past interviews.

“Yuta, do you have an ideal type?” The MC asked, the camera shifting to watch a sweet smile form on Yuta's face.

“Mmm. Not really. I think I already have the perfect girl in my life.” He answered.

“You and Yuta seem really close! Have you ever thought about dating him?” The MC asked, shifting the focus towards her swiftly. 

“Hah! No way. We’d probably end up murdering each other.”

“You wound me.” uta added from the background his hand clutching his chest in faux hurt. 

She stared at her screen.

OH.

OH NO.

Had he…? Had she…?

No. There was no way.

Right?

—

The next day, the kiss scene went way too smoothly.

Their lips met.

It was soft. Warm. Lingered just a second too long.

The director shouted, “Cut!”

They didn’t move.

Yuta pulled back slightly, eyes flickering down to her lips before smirking. “So… still method acting?”

She groaned. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

And just like that, the two biggest idiots in the world finally figured it out.

(Their fans? Lost their minds.)

[m-to-z-andbackto-m]

No you don't understand, it's not just a hyperfixation, IT'S LITERALLY THE REASON I'M FUNCTIONING 😭

I don't like staying hungry or eating when I'm not sure if I'm hungry or bored because Horror exists, he's been through a famine, tf am I doing???

I get upset about my hypersomnia and I try really hard to not to let it happen because many skeles are associated with narcolepsy

I'm pretty sure consuming skeleton content cured my depression over a few years???

God, I'm literally so dependent on them, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THO!!!

I try to avoid toxic behaviors when I can identify them, and it's easier to because Nightmare is a toxic guy canonically, I've consumed enough content to know what's right and wrong in the long run

On the other end, seeing content where one or more of them gets comfort helps me navigate some situations because generally I'm not amazing at giving comfort

They also have me think about my philosophy and general beliefs, a lot of them have been done wrong so they do wrong, therefore I believe we should always try to understand each other because communication can avoid huge issues (DreamTale), and I think it's okay for people to take revenge, even to the extent of killing an abuser if the circumstance just happens to be that way (I'm not gonna specify what irl situation I'm thinking of but I do not advocate for murdering people in general guys, but it's only fair to see the motive, people aren't born criminals and sometimes the extreme feels like the only way out one way or another. Essentially, see people for more than their crimes. Of course some people are just disgusting assholes, but you get the idea.)

Having to memorize the lore and world building, along with creators, characters, interpretations, AND variations, doing all this helps me practice organizing thoughts and articulating difficult information

They actually boost my creativity and keep me happy, when I'm stressed, opening Tumblr to my favorite sillies literally takes my mind off whatever was bothering me, like I actually need them to lower any anxiety levels and keep me regulated

However on the downside they can make me very hyper, sometimes so emotionally so that I shut down for a bit because I physically cannot express my adoration for them and it's overwhelming but I never shut down for too long, I love them, they keep me going y'know!

They help me explore diversity and character writing, putting depth and thought into a being, helps me with my own creations <3

Actually, I'm too shy to look at × reader/self insert/(Y/N) content most of the time unless it's platonic (Might just be me being aromantic honestly) BUT I Have seen stuff where they affirm body types and "Flaws" and stuff like that and I think if I was less of a prude I could look at that stuff and it'd make me feel better about my insecurities, but for now my partners are doing a good job at keeping me normal

Essentially I just need all my sillies to work properly!!! 💕 (I'm so sane, and normal, and not senile about them :3)

(CW For Next Bit: Mental Health, Paranoia, Panic Attack Discussed)

Actually about that, my obsession with the skeletons used to be SO bad that I felt like they were always watching me and my brain would involuntarily make me feel paranoid and bad about myself (Possible ODC symptom where you're afraid of being judged for your thoughts/actions?) and I can't tell if it was a panic attack I had a couple years ago where I couldn't keep caring what they "Think" and I just had to scream and sob because you literally can't hold it in during one (If it was this, I guess I sorta pushed them away D:), OR my partners replaced my brain sillies so I feel them to a lesser extent

(Insecurity, Self Care Issues, And Gay Talk 😭 Oh and also mention of paranoia again but not so bad)

Like it used to be so bad I couldn't get up because I felt yucky, but I couldn't take a shower because they were "There", but now it's like, if my partners are my brain sillies, they like me, we'd probably take showers together when we live together and shit like that, it's okay if they're "Watching" me, actually, they're actual people somewhere else, doing something else, they don't just exist because I think of them the way the silly skeles do, they're actually defined and aren't actually around, it's just me thinking about them, it's okay, I don't have to feel so bad or weird about it, of course I still do a bit because insecurity is hard to scrape off, but I think I'm getting a little better and that's all that matters

Anyways point is, I need my wives, both skeletons and real, to function properly or I'm literally DOOMED

[eli-alys]

(my main blog is @elialys, currently using this sideblog to post my newsreader feels/gifs because tumblr shadowbanned me on sunday for sending s3 to people 💀 anyway, this post was written a few days ago)

~~~~

I took notes on my immediate feelings after watching each episode of season 3 of The Newsreader, it’s helped with the “AAAAAAH” emotions that binging such an intense show cause, plus I figured quite a few of you might share my feels. It’s mostly me screaming, and it’s a tad disjointed as you can imagine, but blame the show for breaking my brain.

SPOILERS UNDER THE READ MORE!!

3.01 Night of Nights

I’ve honestly watched the first two seasons so many times in the past year that I forgot all about that HEAVY DREAD FEELING NEW EPISODES OF THIS SHOW MAKE ME FEEL. And I’m guessing it’s not going to get any better as the season progresses 😭 They truly are so good at creating the scenes with high energy, feeling so IMMEDIATE, and Helen’s anxiety never fails to trigger mine, so 🥲

Speaking of Helen, I’m going to need to rewatch the season a second time fairly fast because as always whenever I watch something new with Anna, I am too busy thinking “SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL” in a loop to pay attention to most of what she’s saying. But she is, I absolutely LOVE the new look in season 3, the shorter hair is perfect, her logie look was gorgeous, she looked so beautiful, and then she looked even better at the end when she was all casual at her house, in jeans and with barely any make up ❤️ ANYWAY, that’s my initial, mandatory gushing about the “Anna is gorgeous” aspect of things.

This episode was a whirlwind honestly, so many things to take in already, many many emotions were felt. I love how they are setting up the pieces for the rest of the season, the way they always do. I already want to slap Rob and protect Noelene at all costs from all those men. Lindsay needs to DIE ALREADY, I swear to god if he’s not run over by a bus by the end of this show 😡

Okay let me gush over Helen a bit more substantially. I love how FAST she was hit in the face by the reality of being back in Australia, with all the network bullshit. This poor woman has so much fucking trauma associated with this industry and the way they treated her, even at the height of her career, being offered this prime time show, she still doubts herself and the legitimacy of it. The way her anxiety took over, her fighting it, I know these are just the first cracks of the season 😭 PLEASE let our girl get a proper diagnosis and proper help by the end of this I BEG YOU SHOW. Needless to say I still absolutely adore the way Anna portrays her, always saying so much in all those moments she has zero lines of dialogue.

Dale. Dale Dale Dale. DALE IS DEAD INSIDE. Him saying he felt NOTHING standing there receiving his award? Him clearly being dead inside while having a man stripping in front of him, at his request? MY SWEET WET NOODLE, WHERE IS YOUR SOUL? I love the fact that I *know* they’re setting him up to being BROKEN this season, and I cannot wait. BREAK HIM. LET HIM FEEL THINGS AGAIN. I AM READY TO HURT WITH HIM.

Serious talk though, THE HELEN x DALE CONTENT IN THIS EPISODE???? 😭😭😭😭 Minute one in the restaurant, you can tell the love is still there. Minute two you can also tell they’re still shit at communicating so hahaha joke is on us as much as on them. Helen saying he was her only non-disaster yet they were pretty disastrous and him just…“I don’t think we were” DALE MY MAN YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME.

Don’t get me started on Helen losing her shit at the logies realizing she was going to “betray” Dale. Her trying NOT TO SAY IT. DALE’S SPEECH 30 SECONDS LATER THANKING HELEN FOR SEEING THE NEWSREADER IN HIM????? 😭😭😭

You know last year I loved talking about how Noelene and Rob’s relationship acted as a foil to Helen and Dale’s (as did Gerry and Carla’s), with them actually talking things through when Helen and Dale did not. This episode was another beautiful example of this, with the focus being put on Noelene being (RIGHTFULLY) upset that Rob just threw the “oh, and my wife” line in his speech when she fucking produced that show, and HERE IS DALE JENNINGS, on stage, thanking Helen for seeing him and making this possible for him, WHEN THEY ARE BROKEN UP AND ESTRANGED.

ALSO, talking of parallels, the hotel scene KILLED ME. I believe it was a VERY DELIBERATED CHOICE by Emma to frame Dale and that man the way she did, because that’s basically how Dale and Helen were framed in that hotel scene at the end of 2x01.

And Helen hoping so hard that they can remain “friends” despite the competition, when everything on Dale’s face tells you “naaaaah not gonna happen” but he smiles his empty smile and says “yeaaah sure” 😭 HE’S GONNA TAPE ALL OF HER SHOWS THOUGH BECAUSE HE’S DALE.

Anyway so much more to say, but I still want to watch another episode before attempting sleep, I need to find myself a paper bag to breathe in.

(just realized I didn’t mention the Dale and Kay thing once, but I think that says a lot in itself, no offence to Kay but NO THANK YOU)

(((Also, I hate the wig. I hate it so much)))

3.02 A New Era

(This ended up being me live commenting this episode because I kept getting so anxious/upset that I had to take breaks)

“Human conversations are not this boy’s strong suit” Lindsay, I hate you, but this does describe Dale a little too well.

Evelyn butting in and listening in to her daughter’s phone conversation with Dale is such an Evelyn thing to do. Also, look, I am aware that Kay and Dale are unsubstantial at this stage of the show and they’re only doing this to get us riled up, but guess what? IT IS WORKING.

Currently taking a pause from the episode because Lindsay is being a fucking ass and trying to feed Helen’s team fake news for her to read on her first show is STRESSING ME OUT I CANNOT DO THIS.

Ugh, the “HELEN’S MENTAL HEALTH” MUSICAL THEME KICKING OFF IN THE BACKGROUND FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS SEASON I AM NOT READY.

Aaaand indeed, I was not ready, crying actual tears at Helen losing her shit at work in front of everyone, this is going to be a long season I AM FINE 😭

GUYS EVERYONE IS SCREAMING IN THIS EPISODE WHAT THE HELL I LOVE IT BUT I CAN’T TAKE IT

God Vincent’s comment about how she’s the first woman on a prime time show and we “can’t even see her tits” I want to kill all those men I SWEAR TO GOD

I am dying inside at the PARALLELS of Helen and Dale watching a tape of Helen’s first show, which was shit, while Dale kicked ass, like THIS IS HOW THE SHOW STARTED BUT WITH THEIR PLACES SWITCHED.

I keep having to pause this episode, I’m so upset at Helen being told off by her new boss for having mental health issues that interfere with her work, I clearly did not buy enough tissues for this season. I mean, it HAS to be addressed, she does have to seek PROPER help, but the way it’s just…thrown at her, always, it’s too real and heartbreaking. THE PATRONIZING!!!

Not gonna lie, kinda loving the fact that Dale is learning to assert himself with his man friend he pays for sex and that he’s learning to use those skills with Lindsay. Somehow it’s unsettling and awkward and very Dale and I’m thriving.

I wanted to talk a little about Noelene and baby Hana (and Rob lol) because CONGRATS NOELENE, but right now I’m too busy ugly crying over that scene of Helen admitting to the psychiatrist that she’s been struggling her whole life. Oh this punched me in the GUTS.

That’s my cue to take a break and get some sleep, dear lord, my own mental health is not equipped for this.

~~

Alright, back at at it after less than 5h of sleep, I don’t foresee myself crying less. I’ve been thinking about the first couple episodes over and over, and I’ve realized the start of this season feels skewed. And a big part of it is because of Dale.

In those first two episodes, Helen is more alive than ever, full of emotions that overwhelm her, and you FEEL for her. Usually, I feel that for Dale, too, with his big wet eyes and the constant panic in 2/3 of the scenes he’s in. But so far this season? I feel nothing, except concern for him. He’s just empty, he’s pretending with everyone, at work, with Kay, with Helen. He’s struggling to be in control in any way he can, paying for what I can’t really describe as intimacy, since he’s using those moments to try asserting any kind of control.

Plus, he’s got a terrible wig, but I’m aware that’s mostly me overfixating on it.

I also know something’s gotta give. I’m suspecting episode 3 will do that, one way or another.

It's 6am, let’s gooooo

3.03 Behind the Front Line

HOLY HELL, this episode came for me!!! My favorite one of the season so far, shockingly I know haha, with it containing Helen’s long awaited diagnosis and that famous improv scene at her house.

Let me say it again: HOLY HELL 😭😭😭

I seriously love the way they handled Helen learning what her diagnosis is, from her figuring it out on her own by doing research, to her losing her shit as a result of her psychiatrist confirming it. I’ve figured it was borderline personality disorder a long time ago when I first watched the show and did research before starting to write fanfic about her, because I wanted to understand her better and be mindful in the way I wrote her, and like her doctor said, she ticked so many of those boxes.

Don’t get me started on how Dale reassures her with “All I see is you” to counter her saying he must have seen it, must have known. He’s not brushing off or denying the messiest parts of her, he’s acknowledging them, basically saying it’s always been part of her, and he’s loved her as she was and as she is. Beautiful, beautiful scene, Anna’s acting was insane, absolutely insane, cannot wait to rewatch it in a loop until every frame is carved in my neurodivergent brain.

I am so worried for my boy Dale though, he’s so fucking dead inside. Still practicing sounding normal in front of mirrors, like the beautiful neurospicy human that he is. Helen being surprised that he’s throwing himself a birthday party and him being literally “it’s a social event, it’s a normal thing to do” DALE MY LOVE YOU ARE ALLOWED NOT TO FIT IN.

I do not trust whatever is going on between him and Kay. I don’t understand how anyone can fall for Dale *right now*. Like I get why both Helen and Tim were swooning over Dale in s1 because he was so squishy and nerdy and sweet and full of tears, but THIS Dale Kay is interacting with? HE’S A SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING. He’s just as much of a lifeless husk on the desk as he is away from it and IT HURTS MY SOUL. So yeah, Kay saying “I love the way you make me feel” I’m just??? Also, the fact that she keeps comparing him to her dad, haha. Anyway, I don’t sense this ‘relationship’ going anywhere healthy given the state of things.

Also, LINDSAY???? He didn’t actually give Noelene her maternity leave, at all???? Being a fucking racist???? Crashing the party and having a temper tantrum???? I am not surprised by any of this but god this man deserves a heart attack or a stroke for fuck’s sake.

Noelene is absolutely fabulous, LOVE the way she just said fuck it and gave the story to Helen, then JOINED Helen, like YES QUEEEEEEENS.

I have no idea what to expect for the second half of the season, although I suspect since the first half was more about Helen’s mental health and job, the second half will focus more on Dale’s mental health and job, as in, I’m waiting for him to break. Guessing the 6th and final episode titled “The Fall” might feature a bit of that. Our boy is drinking a lot. Like, A LOT.

3.04 One Team, All Brothers

Ugh. UGH.

I always loved how this show handles complex topics, and this episode was as strong as ever. I’m GLAD Rob’s attitude toward racism was brought to light, Noelene absolutely killed it. Rob’s scene with Deano…man 😭

Equally loved Helen’s journey through this episode, how she’s trying to help but as always she’s confronted to people around her not wanting to stir the pot, and how in the end, she is just another “white woman” because, well, she is. LYNUS THOUGH, so so glad to have more of him, he’s so wonderful ❤️

I am so so in love with the way they show Helen working so hard on not losing it at work, using strategies and calling her therapist like, I can’t remember seeing this side of mental health portrayed on tv like this before, it is so validating. And watching it WORK, watching how it allows her to ground herself. And sure it might not always work, but at least she’s being given the tools to handle those overwhelming emotions, and I’m so proud of her.

Talking of in love, I did not see the “I’m in love with you” from Bill thing coming, but I am here for the drama. I don’t even blame this man, he spent months with her overseas where she was clearly thriving, he got to see the best side of her, and yeah, we’ve all been there, Bill. Curious to see how that’s going to impact the next two episodes because talk about awkward, he’s executive producer 💀

NERVOUS about the Kay and Dale thing. They make me uncomfortable, as stated in my previous comments for episode 3, this is not love, this is them using each other for very different reasons. Nervous about Dale’s escort not being as discreet in the future as Dale hopes he’ll be. Also, EVELYN?? I get that she’s “looking out for her daughter” but what a fucking bitch, as Helen would say.

Also I just gotta say, that bit at the start, with Helen and Dale watching those parodies of themselves :’)) How Helen is just finding it all so hilarious, including the parody of her (which is so funny honestly), while Dale is just…well, dead inside, BECAUSE THAT IS JUST DALE’S DEFAULT MODE THIS SEASON.

God I do hope we start seeing him crack soon, I am so desperate for some EMOTIONS FROM HIM. And I gotta say, this show as always is great at surprising me. 4 episodes out of 6, and so far, none of the ‘ugly competition’ between Helen and Dale I was expecting/fearing from the promo and season synopsis. Yes their shows are against one another, timewise, and yes, there’s competition between networks, but it’s like, in the background, and it’s not seemed to have impacted whatever version of ‘friendship’ they both have at the moment. I put ‘friendship’ in quotes because well, see my “DALE IS DEAD INSIDE” comments. This poor man is just existing right now.

I’m wondering if Helen is so focused on her show and working on herself (as she should ❤️) and just happy that Dale is still part of her life in some capacity, that she’s not yet gone “hey honey, you look and sound a little like a fucking zombie, let’s talk about this”. I’m also thinking, between their schedules and him dating Kay, they don’t actually see each other that often, and never for long. I’m just…I want someone to ACKNOWLEDGE that Dale is not doing well, and I would 1000% appreciate it most if it was Helen 😭

3.05 On the Brink

There is something incredibly sad in the fact that Helen’s comments on air, about how shame and isolation are what makes having mental health issues so unbearable, are being said on a show that takes place in 1989, yet are still extremely relevant to this day, 35 years later. There has been great progress, but not enough. It’s 2025 and struggling with anxiety or depression, or anything of the sort, is STILL so misunderstood by most people, still hush hush.

That being said, I am so incredibly moved, so so grateful, that the show has chosen to bring so much light on mental health through Helen. I’m going to need to process everything in this episode but that was beautifully cathartic, can’t quite talk about it properly yet.

Also, absolutely heartbroken about Dale completely spiraling, between the drinking and the drugs, while being fucking blackmailed. The final episode clearly is called “The Fall” for a very good reason 😭 A little terrified to watch it, as it will be THE END, so I’m going to make myself some lunch instead. But given how beautifully they’ve handled Helen’s story in those last 5 episodes, I absolutely trust that they put just as much care in Dale’s breaking point. I also trust the fact that in the past, whenever one of them broke, the other was there to catch them. And I cannot wait for that.

One last thing about this episode, I feel like Helen turning down Bill is another proof of the progress she’s made. She has a fear of abandonment, she latches on to people who are showing her the slightest bit of love, of attention, even when it’s the toxic kind, and she’s not been shy about seeking pleasure. And here you have this man who’s telling her he loves her, who’s her boss (another pattern in her previous lifestyle), and she says no.

I am so proud of her 😭

3.06 The Fall

This was so fucking hard to watch. The first part of it with Dale’s breakdown, absolutely heartbreaking, I was literally clutching at my face and hiding my eyes at times. The self-loathing was difficult to WATCH, I just…Sam Reid, what the fuck, his performance. It WAS like watching a trainwreck in real time. The part with him hitting himself, and listening to those awful audience comments over and over and over again 😭 This man was in so much pain, and SO touch-starved, needing real connection but not finding it 😭

It did bother me that they made the plot decision to just....let Dale sit on that desk, CLEARLY DRUNK and looking the way he did, when a few episodes ago, Helen was sent home straight away when she tried doing her show while drunk/high. If they couldn’t keep him off the desk at least don’t go live and put the “technical issues” screen on, and DON’T LEAVE HIM ON AIR FOR SO LONG.

God Lindsay really is a fucking villain, him looming over Dale, just…the psychological abuse was so so hard to watch.

He didn’t just deserve to be sacked, HE DESERVED TO BE RUN OVER BY A BUS. That being said I’m extremely glad the show ended with him gone, and Dennis stepping in.

Ugh I absolutely love Noelene telling Helen exactly what she thinks. Not only did she stand up for herself, she also gave Helen the last push she needed to call the shots for HER show.

The image of her being the lone woman at that table full of men once again berating her, was so damn powerful, ESPECIALLY the way she just let them have their trantrum, only to calmly tell them “No” and step away like, QUEEN.

Oh and Helen's "I'm not gonna be punished because I didn't want to fuck you" to Bill?

The Helen x Dale content was so scarce this season, but I don’t actually mind it? Like, the shipper in me mourns the fact that we didn’t get more and will never get more, but I’m a fic writer, I’ll make more 😏 I am 150% happy with the fact that they focused so much more on Helen’s journey through taking care of her mental health, and Dale stepping away from this toxic, TOXIC environment.

Also all the call backs to season 1 guys, I cannot 😭 Her ‘rescuing’ him, the dialogue being almost exactly the same from the pilot 😭😭😭 Not gonna lie the fact that it’s basically how I started my own “helen x dale post s2 fix it fic” over a year ago gives me warm feelings. Also, I am terrible person for thinking this but when Dale told his mum that what was in the paper was true (about him being with men) and he said “I love you, I hope you can still love me” and she said NOTHING? I thought “well I’m not so sorry I killed you off in my fic now” because?!!! 🙃 I’m sure she’ll come around and everything, she STAYED with him, but it's still a gut punch compared to Helen’s “I love you just the way you are” in season 1 after he told her the truth.

Honestly, I didn’t know what kind of ending I wanted for these two as a pair, except that this is what I was hoping for, since I figured there wouldn’t me any romantic ending. Them CLEARLY in each other’s lives, clearly better when they have each other, with me free to imagine that when Dale comes home from Germany, he smooches the hell out of Helen and they get acquainted with her couch again :’))

(you know she's thinking about that couch)

(can we blame her? LOOK AT HIM)

I’m going to need to rewatch this season at least once or twice in the next week to really take it all in. I am so sad that it’s over, overwhelmed with so many emotions after taking it all in so fast, but also very content. I feel they wrapped everyone’s storyline beautifully, and left us on a GOOD, positive note, full of hope.

And again, so beyond grateful for how truly Helen focused this last season was.

God that was so beautiful.

[lillaydee]

The Unlucky One

Joel Miller (No Outbreak AU) / F Reader

When it comes to love, Lady Luck seems to have lost your address. After being left at the altar without so much of an explanation, you decided love is no longer something you are interested in. Not even meeting an unlucky-in-love-himself Mr. Grump could change your mind.

Right?

Let me know if you want to be tagged, or if you want to be removed from the tag list.

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Idiots in Love, unlucky in love, Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us)

@peelieblue, @vickie5446, @harriedandharassed, @lovefreylove

SERIES MASTER LIST

---

“God, I cannot believe this is what my life has come to! I must be the unluckiest person on earth when it comes to love!” the young lady moaned, drowning her sorrows in yet another tequila shot, as her friends coaxed her, telling her no, she’s not unlucky, she just hadn’t found the right guy.

“Come on, guys, there were ten of them in that group, not even the frumpiest one took a second look at me!” she continued, gesturing at the bartender to give her another, looking longingly at a group of young men who were, at the time, shamelessly ogling at a group of ladies your age walking by in kaftans that might as well have not been there – the barely there bikinis clearly visible through the flowy, see-through materials.

“I think they just preferred older ladies, sweetheart,” her friend said, slyly pushing the freshly poured tequila out of the way. “How about we get you some coffee huh? It’s not even five yet, sweetie. We’re in Bali! Let’s enjoy our time here, okay?”

The young lady scoffed, “As if I could, knowing that Ed is currently unloading his stuff into the whore’s apartment!”

The ladies surrounded her with hugs and coos, telling her to forget that bastard, let’s enjoy the holiday, okay?

“I’m telling you, I challenge anyone, ANYONE!” she yelled out to the entire bar, which went quiet for a bit before breaking into it's buzz again, “To tell me they are unluckier than me when it comes to love. Heck, I bet you a thousand bucks no one has it worse than me.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You snorted into your drink.

And just like that, five pairs of eyes snapped towards you.

“You taking the challenge, lady?” the young lady slurred, despite her eyes being so sharply trained on you.

“I don’t know,” you said, turning your body towards them. “Let’s hear your story, and then I’ll decide if mine is worth telling.”

She adjusted herself to be a bit more stable in her seat, taking a deep breath.

“Well, let’s see. My parents divorced and remarried and divorced again before I was ten, married and divorced so many other people I’ve lost count of how many step parents I have, shutting me up with money to keep me happy. I’ve been with my ex Ed since high school, thought I would finally have some stability in life. We went to college together, birds of a feather, all that. I thought we were golden. Ten years! And a month ago, I found out he had been cheating on me all along with his girl best friend, the one he kept telling me to not worry about. The one who was supposedly seeing someone else that conveniently, didn’t have a name, or had never been introduced to us despite the fact that we all grew up together. I came home early one night and found them in our bed, that I paid for, in my house, that I bought!”

“And you know what’s worse? He actually told me he stayed with me for my money! She didn’t have the money, nor the education to help him out financially, so now that we’ve all graduated and working, he can provide for her! So bubbye me, hello filthy whore who stood by and let him flirt with and later fuck someone else for ten years just so that he could have a roof over his head and money in his pocket! And now, I’m on vacation, where I can’t even find one man who would hook up with me!”

She burst into tears.

You wanted to laugh, but managed to rein yourself in.

“How old are you sweetie?”

“23,” she answered through sobs, her friends clamouring to give her tissues.

“Oh, sweetheart…” you said, refraining yourself from calling her a ‘sweet summer child’, “You have a long way to go, I’m afraid. Life’s gonna throw so much more shit at you before you find happiness.”

Her sobs lessened as she asked you, “How old were you when you finally found it?”

You smiled, lifting your hands, crossing both sets of your forefinger and middle finger together, “Any day now.”

Somehow, that gesture put a smile on her face, although it may have been from pity. “So, you wanna take me on my challenge?”

You thought to yourself, why the hell not. Better out than in, right? So you ordered another margarita and told the five young ladies your story.

**********

You were the product of a drunken mistake. Your parents were going through a divorce, and one night of drinking too much at a party in an attempt to be civil with each other ended with you in your mother’s womb. They divorced anyway, but at first, agreed to co-parent.

About two weeks after you were born, your Dad met Frank. Your mother didn’t take it well when she found out. As you grew up, it became evident that she hated you, the only love you ever received from her household was from your Grandparents. She completely ignored you, chastising you for everything that went wrong in her life. So as you began to understand your surrounding more, you started avoiding her, knowing that you were not welcomed in her vicinity, going to your Grandparents with your cuts and woes, throwing tantrums when your Dad dropped you off after spending the weekends at his and Frank’s.

When school started, your Dad wanted you to stay with him and Frank, wanting to enrol you in the school where Frank taught, the best school in the county. Your mother fought tooth and nail against it, though it took you a long time to understand why. Not like she had to pay for it. Not like she spent any time with you when you were home with her. It was a miracle your Dad refrained from taking her to the courts over it, thinking of the trauma it would put you through. When you turned ten, your Grandma passed away, leaving your mother quite a bit of money. She used some to purchase a house nearer to your Dad’s. Just a few streets away from that school he wanted to enrol you in. One would think it was for your benefit, but no. 

See, she had decided that she simply needed another child to be happy. So she adopted your sister, Nell, who was five at the time. Nell, apparently, had more promise than you, so she would actually benefit from that expensive school, but not you. Your Dad was furious, so was your Grandpa, and the two of them enrolled you at the school anyway. And oh, she was going to have to pay for Nell’s fees herself. Your Dad only agreed to pay for you. After all, he didn’t adopt Nell. She did. Boy oh boy was your mother displeased. So how did she repay him?

By making your life as miserable as she could.

Anything your Grandpa or Dad bought you, became Nell’s. Mommy-daughter days consisted of her and Nell going places, eating the finest foods, while you sat in the car. Your birthdays consisted of nothing from her, but Nell’s deserved a bouncy castle and a petting zoo. You had to eat TV dinners, while Nell got homecooked meals made from scratch with the finest ingredients.

And what did your Grandpa and Dad do?

Nothing.

They did nothing, because you told them nothing. You were puzzled by the way your mother treated you, wanting to earn her affection, convinced that you had done something wrong to earn her wrath, so you didn’t say anything. She always sent you to your Dad’s and Grandpa’s in your finest clothes, the ones they bought for you, the ones that Nell was too little to fit into. And because you never complained, they were none the wiser.

You had your first boyfriend when you were 16. Kyle. He was sweet. Your Dad, Grandpa and Frank loved him. Your mother? Not so much. Why? Because see, your sister, the 11 year old, had a crush on him. And you were standing in the way of her happiness. She did everything she could to get Kyle away from you. He didn’t budge, though, the sweet boy that he was.

But then, he was also your first heartbreak.

He was your first. The two of you had gotten a motel room prom night. You thought the night went well, for your first time. But you woke up to him crying at the foot of the bed, fully dressed.

He told you he was gay.

He had suspected, for quite a while, but didn’t want to believe it, not when his parents were the way they were.

And how did your mother react to the revelation? When you went home crying to her? She laughed. She told you it served you right for turning your own Dad gay. He wasn't before you came along. And then you arrived, and voila! Bill and Frank happened. Clearly, that was your doing.

And that was the day you found out the reason she hated you so much. Turned out, she had hoped that she and your Dad would reconcile after your birth. Instead, he found Frank. Naturally, it was your fault. At two weeks old.

Your Dad and Grandpa almost killed Kyle, but when they found out his own father had kicked him out of the house for being gay, your Grandpa took him in, even paid for his college tuition. Try as you might, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him, much less be angry at him. So Kyle remained in your life, one of your best friends to this day.

And the boyfriends that came after him?

Well, the second and third boyfriend you had was during your early college years, just a few months each. Both broke up with you without explanation after meeting your mother and Nell. It seemed they were uncomfortable with the fact that your underaged sister liked to accidentally run into them while half-naked in the house when you were asleep, or that one of them woke up to her touching him inappropriately while he was sleeping on the couch, something your mother insisted, claiming she didn’t trust you enough to not whore around under her roof. You didn’t even find out until years after. They were just so uncomfortable they didn’t even want to tell you.

Eric, your fourth boyfriend whom you met at 21 managed to remain your boyfriend for a whole year. He was the first man you were in love with. He was the greatest. So caring, loving, romantic. He was the first person you actually started dreaming of a future with. You made plans with him. You were all set to move in together after graduation, saving money on the side to purchase your own place together, start a life together. You thought you were set. You were wondering if your mother or Nell had said something to your previous boyfriends, so you refrained from taking him home to meet them.

But your mother guilted you into coming home for her birthday, where shockingly, she insisted that Eric stay with you in your old room rather than the couch. She and Nell were so nice to him you actually thought they were turning a new leaf.

Well, you thought wrong. Nell went to bed early, but your mother, you and Eric celebrated until well near midnight. Eric went up first, drunk from all the wine your mother kept pouring into his glass. Your mother had asked you to help her with the dishes after the little celebration, and you walked into your room an hour later to a passed out Eric sleeping on your bed, your sister wrapped around him.

Naked.

When you screamed at them, Eric woke up, confused, immediately pushing Nell off him when he realized it was her, and not you. She had visited him in the dark room naked while you were downstairs, and he was drunk. He thought it was you.

Nell was sobbing, telling your mother that he had willingly taken her virginity, and now he was denying it. Your mother screamed at you to get out, telling you how worthless you were for bringing him into her home.

He swore to you he was innocent, and you believed him. But the two of you could never bounce back from the incident. So you broke up, both of you heartbroken. You didn’t see him for a few weeks after that.

Until your mother called and asked to meet. When you got there, Eric was there too, confused at what was going on, not understanding why your mother had contacted him too.

Nell was pregnant.

Your mother demanded he marry her. He refused, only to be met with the threat of a police report, for raping a minor.

You could see Eric’s face turn white. Nell was a few months shy of 17. She was underaged. And there was no evidence to show she had done what she did, although you never doubted his version of the story. Even she didn’t deny it. But now the story had changed. She now insisted that he had raped her. And there was nothing he could do to prove otherwise. Not even your Dad, who ran his own law firm, could help him.

Despite your break up, you were devastated. You loved him. And now you had to watch him marry your underaged sister? You’d decided to attend so that he would have someone on his side. No one was there for him. His parents disowned him. His friends left him. Everyone believed he was a child rapist. You pleaded with them to believe him. You did. Why couldn’t they? They called you an enabler. Accused you of setting the whole thing up. Of trapping him to get into your mother and sister’s good graces. You felt helpless. So you went to the bathroom to cry it out after yet another futile last minute attempt to get his parents to at least see reason.

Your mother walked in and found you, shouting at you to stop being so dramatic and be happy for your sister. “Be thankful to her,” she said. “At least now he won’t turn gay. You know it was a matter of time before you turned him too.”

You could only sit and watch as the two of them got married. Conveniently, she lost the baby a week later. And when Eric tried to annul the marriage, the threat of statutory rape was again waved in his face. And just like that, Eric, the man you were in love with, the man you had planned a future with, the one who was going to be a doctor, ceased to exist.

A new man replaced him. One who was drunk all the time. Who did drugs. Who dropped out of college and couldn’t hold on to a job. Your heart broke every time you saw him. Any attempt to help him was met with accusations of trying to steal him away from Nell. And he was just as stubborn, refusing to hear you, refusing help, refusing any kind of hope altogether. Three whole years you tried. Every single day, you tried. It came to a point where he didn’t even answer your calls. Refused to see you at all, holed up in your old bedroom, which he apparently moved into after he and Nell married, having nowhere else to go.

So you gave up. You had to. You couldn’t possibly help someone who didn’t want to be helped. And the headache your mother and sister was giving you, all the accusations, all the snide remarks about wanting him back, not to mention bringing up Kyle and your Dad over and over again, were not doing you any good.

Shamefully, you didn’t cut contact with them, still yearning for your mother’s approval, even if she had made it quite clear through her actions that you would never receive it. You hoped. You distanced yourself, but you stayed in touch.

But then, a year later, your Grandpa passed. He left you everything. His properties, his money, everything. He had learnt of your mother and Nell’s antiques by then. Not one cent was given to your mother or Nell. That, it seemed, cemented your mother’s hatred for you. She took you to court, unsuccessfully. Your Grandpa’s will was ironclad. And your mother declared, right there outside the court building, that you were no daughter of hers.

So you stopped trying. No more.

You moved on. Graduated, moved to another city, started your Masters, and met Andrew.

Five years later, you were living the life in this new city. Your life with Andrew couldn’t be more perfect. You moved in with him, and for once in your life, you were happy. Really happy. You loved him, and he, you. Your Dad and Frank loved him, and he, them. His family loved you, and you, them. You had completed your Masters and was carefully planning to open your own business, which he fully supported, free-lancing in the mean time for the experience. Your mother and Nell were no longer in your periphery, although you did tell him about them. Your Dad and Frank travelled to the city often to see you, they were even present when Andrew proposed to you. He had thoughtfully called them and flew them in. Them, and your best friend Maria. They and his family were hiding, surprising you with their presence when you said yes. For the first time in your life, at age 30, you were deliriously happy.

But as the wedding approached, he changed. He got distant, coming home later and later, sometimes not coming home at all, blaming it on work stress. Big project, he said, deadlines, the likes. And like an idiot, you believed him.

That was until he didn’t show up at the wedding. Just ghosted you. Just like that.

As you sat in your living room, crying your eyes out, Maria, your Dad and Frank, his family with you, trying their hardest to calm you, you wondered what went wrong. Calls went unanswered, texts unread. They all stayed with you for two whole days after the wedding, and he was nowhere to be found. You woke up on the third day to his family angrily packing their things to leave, demanding you return the heirloom ring he had given you when he proposed, and they too, left without an explanation, telling you that you should be ashamed of yourself, not answering any of your questions, nor your dad’s.  

So here you were, in Bali, on what was supposed to be your honeymoon, but instead of your new husband, you were here with your best friend Maria, who was passed out from jetlag in your fancy honeymoon suite. You still had no idea what happened. Still clueless. But, as tired as you were, you couldn’t sleep. So you decided to drink your sorrows away, hoping that alcohol could help you sleep, drinking one cocktail after another, listening to the young lady’s sorrows.

**********

You downed the rest of your now watery and warm margarita, taking a deep breath, finally looking at the five pairs of eyes, all of which were now downturned with pity.

“So, did I win? I could use a grand to drink myself to death in the next week.”

They all stared at each other, taking a deep breath.

The young lady who had challenged you lunged at you, hugging you, sobbing for your misfortune. “I’m so sorry! God, your mother and sister are awful people! I’m so glad you cut them off! And your fiancé, what a jerk! At least have the balls to tell you why!”

The other ladies nodded, eyebrows scrunched, unable to think of anything to say to you. The young lady gave her card to the bartender, telling her to put a thousand dollars on your credit. You waved her hand away, telling her you were kidding. That she didn’t need to pay for anything. You just needed to rant. Make sure you weren’t overreacting, that your life was indeed, a disaster, that what you were feeling, all the hopelessness, the anxiety, the depression, were all warranted, expected, justified.

They vehemently agreed with you. Yep. Definitely justified. The young lady insisted that she at least buy you a drink, just because. You declined, telling her you were alright. “Go, enjoy your vacation,” you told her. “Your life may suck, but at least it’s way better than mine.” You picked up your little purse and got up to sleep the evening away, feeling a lot lighter now that you had unloaded it all on these girls.

“Wait,” the young lady said, holding her hand out to you. “I’m Tracy.”

You smiled, taking her hand. “Aria,” you told her.

“I hope you enjoy your vacation too, Aria, and not let those jerks in your life take this beautiful place away from you,” she said, giving you one more hug.

**********

You laid in the hammock on your balcony, wondering how the fuck your life had gone the way it did. Why did he just leave? What did you do? Was it so bad that he didn’t even think you merited an explanation? Were you supposed to know already but didn’t get it? You searched your brain, thinking about anything you might have missed. Did you perhaps say something? Do something he didn’t like that he had always complained about and he just snapped and couldn’t take it anymore? Was there an ongoing argument that slipped your memory? Did you take too much money from the joint account? Did you scratch his car?

So many questions popped up in your mind. It was making things up as it went along, asking this and that, seeing if that was a possibility of him just deciding to leave without so much as a goodbye. Was it Kyle? Was it your friendship with Kyle? It was, wasn’t it? He didn’t like that you and Kyle were watching that show together, Face Timing as you did, even when he was a good 500 miles away from you? That was it, right?

But he liked Kyle. He even called Kyle himself to invite him to the wedding. But Kyle couldn’t make it, his husband Ethan, who, incidentally, was your colleague first – you introduced them - was in an accident and had to be hospitalized. He only cancelled two days before the wedding, though. And Andrew had been distant for a few months.

Did you cheat on him with someone? Did you? You didn’t think so, but what if you forgot? Nah… that couldn’t possibly be, right?

Did you badmouth him to someone? Nag him? Shout at him?

Shit. Did he cheat on you?

That must be it, right? He found someone else and ran away with her? Or him? With your track record, you never knew. But who?

Could it be that new woman who joined his team? The one you met at the company dinner some time ago, she was just a week in, if you were not mistaken. The time sort of lined up. Vanessa, that’s her name, maybe. Or was it Valerie? He mentioned her maybe once, but you didn’t really know for sure. Oh, Vivian? Nope… Veronica? Didn’t sound right.

Danielle. That’s it.

But Danielle was happily married, you thought. You met her husband. Oh, well…  Andrew was happily engaged. Rings and marriage certificates wouldn’t stop cheaters. Right?

You felt as if someone squeezed your heart tight. You were happy. That’s what you thought. And he seemed happy too, up until these last few months. You felt blindsided. You didn’t even know what went wrong. You didn’t even have a definite answer. You didn’t even know where to go from here.

The house was his, it’s in his name, he was going to add you to the mortgage once the marriage was finalized. And now, what? You didn’t have a permanent job. There was a business plan, but now that Andrew had left, you didn’t know if you wanted to go through with it. He planned it all – what if he sued you for profit if you used the plan? Money was no issue, even if you stopped free-lancing. You had rental income from your grandpa’s properties, now yours, and there was the money he left you. But truth be told, the idea of going back to live in that city was giving you so much anxiety already you didn’t know what to do. What if you ran into him? You couldn’t go back to your old town, even the idea of being near your mother or Nell gave you itches, as much as you wanted to be near your Dad and Frank again.

What the fuck were you going to do?

Just four days ago you thought you would be here lying in this hammock with the love of your life. But now…

“Girl, I can hear you think from jetlag-land,” your best friend’s voice brought you back to reality. She came to join you on the hammock, laughing uncontrollably with you as the hammock swerved and tilted dangerously, threatening to throw you off as she climbed in and put her arm around you. You snuggled into her embrace, thankful she dropped everything to be here with you, although she insisted she was the one benefitting from this trip.

You fell asleep for a few hours and decided to order room service. You didn’t feel like meeting people. Frankly, although telling Tracy and her posse your story was therapeutic, you were rather worried that you would repeat that self-pity parade, and you didn’t want to. Where would that bring you?

But Maria begged you to come down with her. “We’re in Bali babes! Come on! mingle! Who knows, you might even meet someone to distract you!”

So you got dressed and went with her, making her promise not to make you meet anyone new. Dinner, a couple of drinks, and we will come straight up, right? Cross my heart, she said.

The restaurant was full, so the two of you made your way to the bar to wait. As you were deciding which drink to muddle your broken-hearted thoughts with, two glasses of vodka sodas were placed in front of you.

“We didn’t order these,” you quickly said.

“Courtesy of the gentlemen at the end of the bar,” she said, pointing at two men sitting together, another bartender handing them a glass of whiskey each, saying something to them while doing so. They looked at you, one looking much chirpier than the other, raising their glasses and taking a drink, looking impressed at what they were tasting.

“Oh, the one with the long hair is cute,” Maria cooed, raising her glass at them.

Well, a free drink was not a bad thing, you thought, following suit, thanking them for the drink from afar, a half-hearted smile accompanying it.

You were not even halfway through your drink when the long haired guy came to Maria.

“Hi, are you two waiting for a table too?” he asked.

“Why, yes we are,” your lawyer best friend answered, head cocking to one side, unnecessarily fixing her hair and dress, batting her eyelashes at him.

The fuck? What happened to not meeting anyone?

“Well, my brother and I just got a table, care to join us?”

“Oh, you’re so kind. We’d be honoured!” she picked up her glass and immediately went after him, taking his offered arm in hers. His brother was at the table, looking grumpy as fuck, seemingly not looking forward to dinner with a couple of strange women after all.

If you were to see your own reflection at that point, you would see the exact same look on your own face.

But… you were in a strange country, and your normally straight laced and serious lawyer best friend went through that vodka soda like it was water, so you shouldn’t leave her alone with the men who bought you alcohol. So reluctantly, you picked up your drink and followed her, who was already seated and talking to the long-haired guy as if she’d known him forever.

The grumpy one got up when you approached the table, pulling a chair for you, both of you still looking and feeling supremely annoyed at this sudden company for dinner. You gave him a reluctant smile, which he sort of returned. The two of you sat there quietly, hands on your glasses, waiting for your platonic companions to realize the table was now full. But all was in vain. The two seemed to think no one else was in the restaurant but each other. So you just got the waiter’s attention and told him what you wanted, and the Grump did the same before kicking his brother’s foot under the table, the latter and your best friend finally looking away from each other to order.

Dinner was quiet, at least on you and the Grump’s end. Maria and the brother didn’t stop chatting at all. When you finished eating, you told Maria you were going for a walk on the beach and then straight to bed. You doubted she even heard you, waving a hand at you without looking, still transfixed on the long-haired guy, who seemed equally besotted by her. You called the waiter again for the bill, but the Grump insisted on paying, grumpily, of course, just as you insisted the same, equally annoyed.

“No, you paid for the drinks, so it’s only fair…” both of you said at the same time.

Wait, what?

Your grumpy looks went away for a while, confusion taking over.

“We didn’t buy you your drinks,” both of you said, again, parroting each other.

Maria and long-haired guys stopped talking.

“Wait, we were told you bought us our drinks,” Maria said.

“We were told you bought us our drinks,” long-haired guy said.

The two of them suddenly got extremely giggly, at which point the grumpy looks on yourself and the Grump returned at full force.

When the waiter got to you, you asked for the bill, but he told you that your bill was already taken care of.

“By whom?”

“The person wishes to remain anonymous, Miss,” the waiter said, picking up the empty glasses, asking if you’d like anything else.

“Erm, no, nothing for me,” you said, still confused. Maria and Tommy mentioned they would like to go to the bar, have a drink or two. So you picked up your purse, asked the waiter to thank your benefactor for the four of you, and told Maria you were going for a walk, seeing as she didn’t really hear you the first time.

You were almost out the door when you realized the Grump had followed you. You stopped abruptly and turned to him, aggressively asking him what he was doing.

“I was just going back to my room,” he said, hands up as if worried you were going to shoot him.

Oh.

“You were going to the beach?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let me walk you to the gate, at least? It’s dark.”

“I’m a big girl, Mr Grump, I think I could manage,” you said, before you could stop yourself, clapping your hand to your mouth at the realisation.

But before you could even apologize, he laughed. A pure, unadulterated, belly laugh. And suddenly, something shifted in you.

“I know you could, Ms Grump, didn’t mean it like that. My Mama would kill me if I didn’t offer,” he said, making you laugh yourself.

Two grumps on a holiday in Bali. Wonderful.

A group of ladies walked past, and you saw Tracy, smiling meaningfully at you, winking as she passed by, her posse giggling uncontrollably among themselves.

“You know them?” the Grump asked.

“We’ve met,” you told him. “Well, goodnight, Mr Grump,” you said, walking towards the beach.

“Good night, Ms Grump,” he said right back, standing there with his hands in his pocket until you disappeared through the gates.

When you got back about 30 minutes later, he was sitting in the lobby, still dressed in the same clothes he was wearing. Clearly, he hadn’t gone up after all, talking on the phone with someone. He hung up when he saw you, getting up and walking with you to the elevators. You didn’t punch in your floor number as he did his, exiting the elevator just as the door was about to close.

He smiled, “I’m not a creep, Ms Grump, just had to take a phone call, and now, I’m going to bed.”

“Better safe than sorry, Mr Grump,” you said, as the doors closed.

The two of you kept smiling at each other until your own reflections were all you could see on the shiny, highly polished doors.

---

Part 2

[xylatox]

Criminal Conscience Tape 2!! I'm so excited this absolutely has not left my mind since it was posted, CC Beomgyu is taking over my daily life I fear.

Present Time!!

I love that we are immediately introduced to Kai and in Kai fashion his sweet personality shines through, God, he is adorable. I think it's cute that Kai is worried but can't keep secrets when pressured to confess anything he knows, which fits Kai so much here I think but I love that reader still gives him a well thought out response. I just think the moment is so sweet with the formalities and everything, CC Kai i wanna keep you in my pocket :( I love that we are able to come back to thoughts on Beomgyu even in a moment like this, I think I too would ignore the behaviour of Gyu even if just opting to taking you out to clubs and dark hotel rooms is an obvious red flag.

Past Time!!

Gyu making his mark after their time back then is so prominent, like he is so good, that 3 days feels like forever, the man you are Gyu. Reader is so insane to even think of going to a sketchy location at 2am, and worse yet from an unfamiliar number PLUS you cannot even respond, girl you are absolutely insane; like I get it, Gyu is amazing (we love that) but hoping it's him from something screaming danger is actual insanity.

Finally, there’s light. But it is not the warm and comforting glow of the usual streetlights. No, this is a purple, almost pinkish hue. It paints the brick walls around in a soft sheen. — I LOVE how this is phrased especially since the light not giving its usual warmth kind of reflects the situation at hand it how it feels. And the man of the hour🫠 suddenly all my yapping about safety and red flags goes over my head; the Dollface will ALWAYS get me I fear.

Beomgyu huffs at your question, his lips pulling into a small smirk as he nods. “Clever girl.” — I am so downbad for Gyu like what the fuck, this is not okay for my health.

Beomgyu’s hand slithers around your waist, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “Dollface. This is my old friend, Duri.” ... Beomgyu doesn’t give you an opportunity to protest, his demanding grip steering you toward the booth, sliding in next to Duri as he pulls you along.  — there's something so attractive of the dominant aura Gyu holds here, from his grip, to him not letting your name be known, I'm on my knees.

Reader overthinking the moment is cute and valid, I feel like from Gyu's current vibes he definitely has an ulterior motive for her being there, just from the fact that she met Duri and the place Gyu asked her to meet is so clearly for a certain category of people and much less people who are so aware of Gyu's presence makes it so much more interesting.

“Why, you seem to know everything about me.” It was supposed to come across as a joke, friendly banter if you will. But Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle with something beyond mischief, something slightly darker, something dangerously close to lust. “You’d be surprised”, is all he says, leaning back against the velvet cushion as he sips on his own drink. What was that supposed to mean?  — WHAT THE FUCKKKK that was so hot🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ I technically should be super concerned by that response because of course, how much does Gyu really know but currently any semblance of sense is gone in this moment.

Beomgyu groans, “Fuck dollface, you ask a lot of questions.” His free hand slides up your arm, moving to the nape of your neck as he brings your lips to his in a hot kiss. Beomgyu was good at avoiding questions, perhaps a little too good — we really shouldve taken the avoidance as a second warning but...Gyu is hot so...how bad can it be....right?

Present Time!!

God, I absolutely love Gyu's questioning, the way he evades the questions with ease and how he's also able to press reader's buttons and strip her professionalism in the way that he does. I LOVE that the red lipstick makes its name once again and returns, like, reader subconsciously holding on to the past in some way...

Beomgyu smirks, his fingers coming to a halt on the metal of the table in front of him. “You still look fucking irresistible in it”, he says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.  — he's such a tease I don't think I can live through this actually. I love that we get the background on how the red lipstick came to be, Gyu is so ARGH yknow.

Past Time!!

I think that Beomgyu using different burner phones each time to contact is insane and clearly another bad sign. It was the first time he’d left before you fell asleep. — this actually breaks my heart. The more I see of Gyu, the more I don't blame reader to try to see past the walls he has up even if the red flags are there because he's just addictive yknow.

TAEHYUN MY LOVE😭😭 I did NOT except to see him in a past memory but I'm not complaining (also slightly scared for his fate in the series now) but my baby :((((((( He so clearly likes reader too oh my god I'm actually going to sob, I did not except to have to face this position rn.

The actual fear I had in my body when Duri makes a reappearance what the freak!! and the fact that he remembers AND has the audacity to use Gyu's nickname for us? (gross and stinky I do not like him)

I do love the moment between reader and Taehyun:( he's such a boba eyed sweetheart I will always love him ugh.

Present Time!!

Loving all the criminal talk and reasonings behind everything rn with reader and Yeonjun, it makes my nerdy crime obsessed self so happy and the fact that Beomgyu presumably waited before making the kill further solidifies how insane this situation is, I'm so invested (I'm lowkey hoping he actually didn't murder the guy😭 but it def isn't looking good considering everything yknow)

Past Time!!

Beomgyu seemingly knowing everything about reader is so interesting! Like how many connections do you have to meet her at her university.

You watch as he makes his way across the parking lot with his hands in his pocket. Once he makes it halfway across does he turn to look at you. The smirk stretching across his face made your heart leap. “You comin’ or not, dollface?” — oh my god. the ending. Does she go or not I need to know😭.

Serene!! this was so good, I'm sorry the review came out longer than I intended but I loved every minute of Tape 2, it was so amazing and I'm left with so many questions pertaining to the reader and to the crime they are trying to unfold. Looking forward to the other tapes!!♡

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 02

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings drinking, kissing, red flag beomgyu but what's new, references to them hooking up, descriptions of blood/gore/murder, surprisingly little warnings for such a long tape, but it's just... vibes through and through I can't explain it okay?

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, this one's a mouthful, but that's only because it's the original 02 and 03 merged heh, plus my own fleshed out version of course. hmm, I really like this part though, a personal favourite :3 absolutely would cry if I got to hear ur thoughts on it !!

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 02 ] — Red Lipstick Stains recording length: 9.8k

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Is everything alright?” 

Kai’s light voice slices through the dark clouds looming over your head and your gaze snaps up to meet his. “You’ve barely touched your food”, he says as he motions toward your still full plate. You follow his line of sight, heaving a small sigh as you prop your head on one of your hands. 

“Not feeling particularly hungry today I suppose”, You mumble as you push said food around leisurely with your fork. It was kind of Kai to offer you lunch like this, your junior often did his best in trying to please his colleagues, sometimes you wondered if Kai ever gave himself credit for his hard work. 

Kai puts his own fork down as he swallows. His big brown eyes search yours, much to no avail as you keep them trained to your plate with a displeased frown. He clears his throat, “Does it have anything to do with your new case this morning?” He asks the question hesitantly, like he was afraid of stepping on a nerve he wasn’t supposed to. 

Finally, you lift your gaze to look at him. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder your next words carefully. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Kai, but Yeonjun had made it clear that what you were doing was technically against policy. Besides, Kai had never been one to keep secrets, especially not when pressured into confessings, which he more than often was. 

“Partly..” You slowly admit, “But for the most part I’m just tired, it’s been a long week as is.” You give a weak shrug as you reach for your glass, sipping on your water unenthusiastically. Kai, on the other hand, doesn't seem convinced as he studies you with a small frown. Still, he seems to respect your boundaries and doesn’t try to pry further. 

You give him a faint smile, “Sorry, I’m not exactly good company right now.” But your junior quickly shakes his head, immediately objecting. — “You’re always great company, noona.” Both the compliment and the formality makes your smile widen, Kai really was adorable. 

“You’re great company too, Huening.” 

He blushes furiously at that as he quickly occupies himself with his own food. You liked spending time with Kai, he was easygoing, despite his somewhat awkward compliments. The atmosphere always felt light when he was around. The restaurant he’d taken you to was small and quaint, situated just across the park. And though the flowers had yet to bloom and the treetops remained naked, you found it a beautiful sight. 

Beomgyu had rarely taken you out to restaurants. In fact, he’d rarely taken you out at all, anywhere besides those clubs and dark hotel rooms at least. Back then you failed to see the issue with that, but then again, there were a lot of things you had disregarded in better judgement of Choi Beomgyu. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 31st 2022 

Three days was actually an awfully long time when you waited for something. And it felt even longer when you didn’t know if what you waited for would ever come. In fact, these past three days had felt like three years. — 72 excruciatingly long hours without Beomgyu, and for every single one of those hours, you had not stopped thinking about him. 

On your way to class, in class, at work, at home, with Kayla. Oh. That’s right. You had yet to tell your friend about your quickie out in the alleway. It was better that way, or at least so you thought. She would only scold you for going against her words... But what if they had been said out of jealousy? You shouldn’t take them too seriously, right? 

Sex wouldn’t kill you. — But it would definitely get you addicted. 

This newfound abstinence somehow grew with each passing day. You thought you would’ve moved on by now, forgotten him, just like he’d forgotten you. It was obvious that what had transpired between the two of you three days ago had merely been an exchange of pleasure. Beomgyu hadn’t as much as looked back when you parted ways, neither had he given you his number, or taken yours. 

It was a one time thing, no strings attached, literally. Perhaps his nonchalance after sharing such an intimate moment should’ve been your first warning. 

Briefly you wondered if things would’ve turned out differently, had you taken a cab home that night and forgot about the alluring stranger. But there was no changing the past, and now you were to live with this decision, for as long as you could remember.

It was late, well past midnight on a Tuesday night when your otherwise dry phone chimed with a notification. The bright screen illuminates your dark bedroom, and your attention diverts from the coursebook in your lap and over to the small device. With a perplexed frown, you reach for it. As you squint against the near blinding brightness, you find an unfamiliar number on screen.

The sender had left one message. An address and a time. 

2am.. And in an area you did not recognize. A small and uneasy feeling settling within the pits of your stomach as you re-read the text over and over. Despite every reasonable sense in your body practically screaming for you to block whoever this was and forget about it, you can’t seem to find it in you. 

Instead your shaky fingers begin to type out a reply. 

“Who is this?”

Message not delivered. Huh? Why wouldn’t it let you… Something was wrong, very wrong. But despite your inner turmoil, the winning side ends up being the one that forces you out of bed as you stumble toward your dresser. — The sender had left no signature, yet you were almost certain of its source. A small sense of hope surges through you, and it is what compels you to go through with this utterly idiotic decision. 

Your arms wrap around your skimpily dressed body. Spring has yet to take hold on the biting frost that still lingered. With urgent steps, you scurry through the narrow alleyway. The light of your phone screen illuminated your way amongst the unfamiliar buildings and the further you got from the main street, the heavier your heart grew. Had this been a mistake? What if someone was luring you out here to kill you? 

Finally, there’s light. But it is not the warm and comforting glow of the usual streetlights. No, this is a purple, almost pinkish hue. It paints the brick walls around in a soft sheen. Your pulse quickens as you near the entrance of what you assumed to be another nightclub. It was strange.. You hadn’t heard of this one, nor was it anywhere to be found online. 

There’s a man by the doorway. You find your gaze lingering by his broad shoulders, his thick arms looking ready to rip through the tight shirt he wore. Your breath hitches in your throat when you catch a glimpse of the multiple tattoos of different symbolism covering his veiny forearms. Did he not get cold? 

The bouncer looks down at you, for he was tall as a skyscraper, and raises a brow. “You lost?” He asks, his voice is gruff, carrying a mocking tone as he watches you expectantly. — Nervously you shift on the spot, your mouth opening and closing repeatedly as you fumble for words. “I uh…” 

He chuckles, the sound echoing through the alleyway as he throws his head back. “It’s alright - What you’re looking for is probably down the street and to your right.” He nods in said direction, a smug grin stretching across his lip when his gaze falls on you once more. — “It’s more, your style”, he slowly adds. 

You can’t help the offended frown that flashed across your face. Your style? Sure you wouldn’t argue over the fact that this was unlike anything you’d usually do. But this was just insulting. How dare he speak to you like that, how dare he… — Oh but who were you kidding? You looked nothing like those who would spend half their awake time here. 

What were you even thinking, coming here, all alone no less? There was no way you would be let inside. — Such a waste of time. 

With a heavy sigh, you readjust your grip on the small handbag you’d brought, turning on your heel as you prepare to leave, when suddenly, a voice calls for you. It’s familiar, much so that it makes your stomach flip as you freeze up. Beomgyu. — Slowly glancing over your shoulder, your eyes lock with his dark ones. 

Beomgyu pushes past the bouncer who immediately gives a quick bow and steps aside. “Dollface”, he exhales, the nickname still sticking as he wraps an arm around your waist, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. “You made it.” 

You can barely protest as he pulls you to his side, your bodies clashing against one another as he heads for the entrance he’d just emerged from. Upon passing the bouncer you think you might hear him whisper something to the man under his breath, though you remain unsure of what exactly transpired between the two. 

Given your not-so-broad expertise of clubs, you would say that at first glance, this place was no different. But as Beomgyu leads you through the crowded dance floor you slowly begin to realize that this was something entirely new. — This whole place felt almost exquisite, and the people here seemed aware of it. 

There was no bar, instead drinks were being served by the many waiters pacing the outlines of the main floor, all of them wearing the same black uniform. Large, velvet clad booths line the walls, and you expect Beomgyu to take you to one of them. — His gaze, however, seems fixed on the large staircase on the other side of the room. 

Quickly you notice the lingering glances you receive. Well, the lingering glances he receives. All eyes seemed to be on him as Beomgyu swerves his way through the crowd. Did he know these people? Did they know him? They have to, given the way they all stepped aside when he passed. 

You, on the other hand, were barely spared as much as a quick look, apart from a nasty scowl delivered by one of the many hooker-looking women. — What made Beomgyu so special here? 

Suddenly, his hand on your lower back feels heavy, like his fingers were going to sink into your skin and leave a permanent indent. If Beomgyu felt their stares, it didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest. Biting down a shudder, you keep your gaze trained ahead as you follow along, reaching the grand staircase with a sigh of relief. 

When you make it to the top, a pair of double doors are immediately swung open and you step inside. Your eyes scan the more desolate area, drinking in the expensive looking furniture, the extravagant booths and the quiet murmur of those chatting with one another. Suddenly you understood… “Isn’t this the VIP section?” 

Beomgyu huffs at your question, his lips pulling into a small smirk as he nods. “Clever girl.” 

As he steers you toward one of the larger booths, you realize that you wouldn’t be all alone. A man who looked to be in his late twenties sits by the round table, his leg propped on one knee as he swishes a drink in his hand. You did not recognize him, but had you seen him out on the streets one lonesome night, your first instinct would have been to run. 

“Duri!” Beomgyu’s exclamation carries out into the otherwise quiet but hot air and the man lifts his head as he peers in your direction. He sets his drink down, shifting in his seat when the two of you approach. — “And here I was beginning to think you had stood me up”, Duri says, a wide grin on his face. His gaze drifts to Beomgyu’s hand, still secure on your lower back. 

“Ah”, he exhales, “Now I see what kept you from me.” He sends you a not-so-subtle wink, but it didn’t feel the same way it had when Beomgyu did it. 

You clear your throat, it would be rude not to introduce yourself, right? — “Hi, uh…I..” Upon giving him a small, rather awkward wave, Duri suddenly bursts into laughter. He continues for a good thirty seconds, despite neither you or Beomgyu joining in, the latter seemingly unamused. 

“Pretty little thing you’ve got there”, Duri comments as he brings his glass to his lips, “What’s your name, love?” 

“Oh! It’s-” 

Beomgyu’s hand slithers around your waist, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “Dollface. This is my old friend, Duri.” He gestures to the man in front of you, giving him an unenthusiastic look that contradicted his previous excitement. “Duri, this is dollface.” Beomgyu doesn’t give you an opportunity to protest, his demanding grip steering you toward the booth, sliding in next to Duri as he pulls you along. 

He doesn’t seem to notice the frown on your face upon settling against the cushion. “Nice to meet you”, Duri says, eyeing you carefully over the rim of his glass. — “Uh, you too..” You shyly mumble, squeaking when Beomgyu’s hand finds place on your thigh, his cold rings stinging your bare skin. 

His free hand quickly calls a waiter over who seems to be stumbling on his feet to get to your booth faster. Beomgyu’s eyes are suddenly on you, “What d’you want, dollface?” — Taken aback, you glance between him and the waiter, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

Beomgyu nods, turning back to the waiter with an indifferent expression. “My usual, make it two.” — As the man scurries off, you force yourself to relax as Beomgyu and Duri indulge in a conversation regarding topics you had little knowledge of. They used words and slang you couldn’t recognize, speaking in hushed voices, as if being eavesdropped on. 

Left with your own thoughts, your mind wanders back to just a few moments prior. Why hadn’t he introduced you? Was he ashamed, but why bring you along in the first place then. Your eyes drift to Beomgyu’s hand on your thigh, his fingers moving absentmindedly over your naked skin, making light tapping motions. 

Why had he invited you here tonight? You thought it had been for easy sex, but as you sit here, your back pressed against the expensive velvet, everything felt a little too formal. Did he have an ulterior motive for bringing you out here, and if so, what? 

You could feel the heavy stares sent your way, people were always looking, as if Beomgyu was some sort of artifact. They were never really looking at you, but you somehow felt as if placed under a microscope. — It was almost thrilling in a way, sitting so close to the thing everyone in the room silently seemed to desire, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand. 

“Open up.” 

Beomgyu’s thick voice pulls you from your trail of thoughts. Startled, you blink as the cool surface of glass presses against your lips. Obliging, you let him pour the liquor into your waiting mouth. It burns your throat, yet leaves an almost sweet aftertaste. “This is good..” You murmur, taking the glass from his hand. 

The smirk on his lips only grows, “Knew you’d like it, dollface.” 

His statement makes your chest flutter and you feel your own lips pull into a small grin. “Why, you seem to know everything about me.” It was supposed to come across as a joke, friendly banter if you will. But Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle with something beyond mischief, something slightly darker, something dangerously close to lust. 

“You’d be surprised”, is all he says, leaning back against the velvet cushion as he sips on his own drink. What was that supposed to mean? 

You had almost forgotten Duri, and you jumped in your seat when he suddenly clears his throat. “Well, it seems my date for tonight has arrived.” He rises to his feet, chugging the last of his drink before setting his glass down. “Pleasure meeting you ‘dollface’..” He gives you one final glance, scoffing before walking off to join one of the girls a few booths away. 

Beomgyu doesn’t pay him any further attention, his gaze fixed on something far ahead as he mindlessly drinks. — “Who was he?” You can’t help but ask, feeling your curiosity gnawing away at you. 

“An old friend”, he simply shrugs, clearly ready to discard the matter. But you were far from satisfied with his nonchalant response. — “Then why didn’t you introduce me, if he’s an old friend I mean?” 

The small frown creasing his forehead was the first of actual expressions you’d seen on him. “I did.” He replies shortly, setting his glass down on the small table in front of you. Shaking your head, you twist in your seat to look at him fully. “Why not my name?” 

You knew your persistence was getting to him when he sighed. “What’s it to him?” He was sounding almost defensive now, his agitated response only riling you up further as you sought answers. “So? He’s your friend.” 

“Perhaps…” Beomgyu exhales, his attention now turned to Duri who was feeling up the girl he’d joined not even three minutes ago. “But not one you should be acquainted with.” — “Why?” 

Beomgyu groans, running a hand across his face tiredly. “You’re being really difficult here, sweetheart..” — “Did he do something bad?” This time you couldn’t refrain from asking, from crossing a line you knew you couldn’t return from. 

“Haven’t we all?” He counters upon emptying the last of his drink and his words sound almost solemn. You frown, “Yes but-” 

“Drop it dollface.” His voice is cold, causing a shiver to run down your spine, leaving no room for arguments as he slams his glass down on the table. You gulp as your gaze drops to the drink in your hand, its once sweet taste now sour on your tongue. Was he angry with you? You couldn’t tell, for Beomgyu’s expression remained stoic as his hand returned to your thigh. 

His answer made you certain of one thing though. Duri was someone who did things he shouldn’t. You recall Kayla’s last words about Shay, about the substance abuse, about Beomgyu. Would that mean that he also… No. Maybe he just bought from him every now and then? A small amount couldn’t be that bad right? As long as he had it under control. 

Back then you didn’t know it. But Beomgyu loved his control, more than a lot of things, more than a lot of people. — You glance up at him once more, a thousand questions prodding at your lips, you choose one. 

“How did you get my number?” 

Beomgyu groans, “Fuck dollface, you ask a lot of questions.” His free hand slides up your arm, moving to the nape of your neck as he brings your lips to his in a hot kiss. Beomgyu was good at avoiding questions, perhaps a little too good. 

That should’ve been your second warning. 

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

Beomgyu had barely changed during the ten months you’d gone without seeing him. His hair was still the same pitch black, though a bit more unkempt and thinner by the ends. He had acquired dark circles under his eyes, they made his face appear more hollow. It was almost like life itself had been drained out of him. — Yet his charisma persisted, and Beomgyu took every opportunity he could grasp in order to push and prod at your buttons. 

You rarely found yourself in doubt of your own abilities. In fact, you had been outstanding amongst your peers during your months in training. And to interrogate, to break even the most coldhearted criminal with your mere words, there was an undeniable satisfaction in that. But as soon as you had stepped foot inside the room you had been trained in for so long, all confidence was lost on you. 

How could you ever see through him, through Beomgyu. For over a year you had been trying to read him. To crack him open and peer into his mind. Sure, you had been taught different techniques and methods now, you’d practiced and then practiced again. This wasn’t the same, far from it. For Beomgyu was nothing like anyone you’d ever met before. 

Just looking at him right now made your head spin. 

“What’s your relationship to the victim?” You school your voice into professionalism, into a cool and detached one. No matter how hard of a front you put up, it felt as if he could see right through it. — Beomgyu doesn’t meet your gaze, making it impossible for you to look for clues within his eyes. He twists the rings on his fingers, one by one, almost methodically. 

A smirk you knew all too well tugs across his lips. “What’s your relationship to that man?” 

Your mind goes blank, your brows raising on your forehead as you glance around. The room was empty, just like it had been for the past thirty minutes. — “Please don’t divert from the subject when we’re-” 

“The one in the doorway earlier.” He’s not giving up, and you push back a shudder when his dark eyes flicker up to yours. It was clear that he was looking for an easy entry into your head. He was searching for any kind of insecurity you might hold, he would puncture it and slither inside, just like he always did. 

You recall the afternoon’s events, thinking back to your lunch with Kai. Carelessly you had let him drop you off by the interrogation rooms. Had Beomgyu seen him? That would be your only explanation. “That was my colleague”, you say, keeping your expression stoic, even when Beomgyu’s smirk widens. 

“Really?” He drawls, and whether he kept going because the matter intrigued him, or if it was to waste time on irrelevant topics, you didn’t know. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the door which you had emerged from half an hour ago. “Didn’t look like it to me.” 

There he goes again, spewing his nonsense as he waits for you to eat from his palm. Just like you used to. He didn’t have that power over you anymore, you told yourself that. — “What you think does not matter.” Your hands reach for files in front of you as you readjust them, buying yourself some much needed time as your attention diverts to the pictures attached. 

“What? He your boyfriend or something?” 

His question comes out half a statement, half a huff. A short breath of disbelief, an almost menacing look on his face. But you’re not stupid enough not to catch the subtle tick of his jaw, the way his dark eyes narrowed, if just a little. He rocks his chair back on its hind legs, patiently waiting for your response as he tries to gauge your reaction. After everything, he still thought he had a say in anything regarding your life, regarding you. 

“He might be”, you shrug, already flipping through the files in order to avoid confronting the topic head on. It was a lie of course. He didn’t have to know that. Beomgyu had lied to you too, at one point, it had gotten hard to differentiate any of the reality that had been vowed between his lies. 

“Bullshit.” 

The sound of his cuffed hands slamming against the old metal table is deafening, the front legs of his chair hit the ground once more with an equally empowering thud. He leans forward now, even more than what was both professionally and emotionally appropriate for either of you. — Briefly you thought that Yeonjun might interrupt, and you listen for the door. But he never comes. 

You don’t flinch, not even when his hot breath tickles your face. His brows furrow, the corner of his lips twitching. “He’s not your type”, Beomgyu plainly states, the words falling from his lips are so close that you could practically taste them on your own. — “Who says?” You quickly retort, immediately scolding yourself for letting your professionalism falter. 

Your small slip up doesn’t pass him unnoticed and Beomgyu smirks. “C’mon dollface, you forget I know everything about you.” — “Knew.” You’re quick to interrupt him, your voice sharp and almost snappy. “You knew everything about me.” 

“People change Beomgyu, I changed.” Your professionalism was slipping at a dangerous rate. You didn’t care. The satisfaction of hearing those very words leave your own two lips was far more enticing than the policy you had to follow. 

Beomgyu’s expression remains unfazed, his brows slightly raised on his forehead as he watches you with calculating eyes. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip mindlessly. Ring clad fingers tapping against the metal table rhythmically, mimicking the tick of a clock, the sound ringing in your ears. You swallow, forcing your breathing to remain regulated as you place your files down. “Let’s hold here for today.” 

The screech of your chair against the stone floor pierces the air as you stand up. Dusting off your pants, you intend to not spare him as much as a second glance when you head for the door. The cool handle sends a small spark of electricity through your palm as you grip it tight. But before you get the chance to turn it and step outside, Beomgyu speaks; 

“Is red his favorite color too?” 

Your body feels ice cold, your heart catching in your throat and your eyes widening as you gaze ahead. “What?” You echo as you slowly turn to face him. He chuckles, but the laugh holds no warmth. Not until his dark eyes fall on your lips do you realize what he’s talking about. Without being able to stop yourself, your fingers reach up to touch the fresh coat of paint you’d applied after lunch. 

The red lipstick that you had accidentally brought along this morning, the one you were supposed to get rid of. It had been but a mere coincidence right… The way it had presented itself so nicely on your dresser earlier that day. 

Beomgyu smirks, his fingers coming to a halt on the metal of the table in front of him. “You still look fucking irresistible in it”, he says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You look away, not wanting to face him a second longer. It was torturous, everything about him was. It instantly reminded you of why you had walked away all those months ago, of why you had tried so hard to forget him, to bury him within the depths of your mind, somewhere unattainable. 

“My boyfriend thinks so too.” It’s all you say before quickly turning on your heel and swinging the door open. Your heart pounds in your chest as you step outside. Slamming the door shut behind you with a loud thud, you lean against it as you try to compose yourself. 

Fuck, he still made you dizzy. 

That night turned into a sleepless one. Spent going through the remnants of Beomgyu, the pieces of him you still carried. Many times you’d been at war with yourself. One side argued that you should rid yourself of him completely, start anew, in a reality without him. The other side, the one that felt more than it thought, desperately clung onto him, in every way it could. That side made you replay every single memory shared with him, the good and the bad ones, it made you cry deep into the night and it made you scream in frustration and anger. Yet it always seemed to win. 

You turn the lipstick in your hands, fingers gliding against the smooth tube. It had come in a small box, wrapped in gold and tied with a red bow. Your hands had trembled as you undid the ribbon, and Beomgyu had been watching you intently. — You could still feel the weight of his hand on your lower back, the other one caressing your thighs swung over his lap. 

When you had plucked the lid, revealing the shiny artifact, your eyes had widened. Your lips parted delicately as you glanced between the lipstick and him. “I… Beomgyu this is…” You had barely been able to finish your sentence, too astonished by the gift before you. 

“Try it.” He exhales, his breath warm against the side of your face. With a small nod of your head you screwed the bottom of the tube, revealing the deep red lipstick. The cosmetic melted across your lips like butter, and you carefully spread an even layer, painfully aware of his eyes on you. 

Gently smacking your lips once, you turn to Beomgyu, shy gaze meeting his hungry one. His thumb brushed along your chin, swiping away any excess product. “Now you look like a real doll”, he’d murmured, knuckles caressing your heated cheeks. 

“I’ll wear it”, you had whispered as you leaned into his touch. And Beomgyu had hummed, a soft sound of approval as he’d pressed his lips against your freshly painted ones. 

“Good, red is my favorite color.” 

⸝⸝

📼 — April 10th 2022 

Beomgyu was difficult. Not in the sense where he was vague. Because whenever the two of you saw one another it would always lead to sex, he would make sure of that. Naturally you thought it was a mutual benefit situation going on. It wasn’t something you were opposed to, even if the idea hadn’t enticed you before. He was just… different. 

It would always go the same way. He sent you an address and a time, you showed up. It was a simple deal, one that had occurred without either of you confirming it out loud. For each instance he would use a different number, an untraceable one. At first you’d tried to show disinterest in the matter, to act like it didn’t bother you. But the truth was it did, a lot. 

Usually it’d be a club, never the same as the last, and he would make sure to get you alone as quickly as he could. Tonight was different, tonight he’d booked a hotel room, just for the two of you. And in the darkness, where only the sounds of your panting breaths lingered once he’d pulled out, you suddenly found your thoughts wandering. 

Usually you’d pass out quickly, feeling oddly comforted in his warm embrace. But tonight you’re wide awake. He is too, for his fingers draw lazy patterns on your naked hip. You swallow, blinking twice as you try to push the images from your head, biting back the questions waiting on your tongue. You didn’t want to ruin this moment, it felt fragile, like one misstep could shatter the entire thing. 

Yet the aftermath of your orgasm still surged within the depths of your stomach. It gave you confidence you usually lacked. Craning your neck, you turn your face to peer up at him. Still unable to make out his expression in the dark, you hesitate, if only for a second before asking the one question that had been on your mind for nearly two weeks. 

“Why won’t you give me your number?” 

Your words felt deafening, like church bells ringing through the air a quiet Sunday morning. Beomgyu doesn't answer, his chest rising and falling under your cheek as his fingers stop on your hip. Had you overstepped? No, this was a perfectly reasonable question. So what was the problem? 

Beomgyu heaves a sigh, the huff of air blowing over the top of your head. “Don’t got one”, he replies, his voice echoing through the hotel room. 

Confused, you lift your head as you squint toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He shrugs, “Means I don’t got one.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, hesitating. “Then how am I supposed to contact you?” Once the questions started spilling from your lips it seemed impossible to stop. You could tell he was getting annoyed by the second. — “You’re not”, he firmly states. His words manage to kill any lingering lust and warmth, the room suddenly felt cold. 

It was then, in that moment, that you realized that your relationship with Beomgyu was nothing more than a casual and mutual exchange of pleasure. You should’ve known that, suppose part of you always had, but his statement made it all the more clear. With a solemn expression you stare up at the ceiling, quietly mulling over his words. 

Sometimes it felt as if Beomgyu was made of ice. It was nearly impossible to get close, and even when you did, there was a thick layer concealing him. Nothing you said seemed to get him to melt, and anything regarding his personal life was kept stored deep within the cold. 

Beneath you Beomgyu shifts and you soon feel the warmth of his body disappear as he climbs out of bed. He doesn’t bother turning on the light but you can hear him pulling his clothes back on as he prepares to leave. — With a quiet kiss to your forehead he says, “I’ll text you.” And with that he was gone. 

It was the first time he’d left before you fell asleep. 

⸝⸝

📼 — April 17th 2022 

Days went by after that, and you didn’t hear from Beomgyu once. And when a whole week had passed since your night at the hotel, you were beginning to think that perhaps you never would. But if it was one thing you would come to learn about him, it was that you never had him where you thought you did. 

You were halfway through your morning lecture when you got his notification. A new number, a new address, just like usual. The relief and excitement that immediately flooded your senses should have been concerning. Did you long for him much so that even a simple text could get you worked up? It was almost as if you had become addicted. Everytime the unknown number flashed across your screen you knew that you would be getting your next fix. 

Anticipation flowed through your veins and you hurriedly stashed your books in your bag as soon as your professor finished talking. There was little time to waste. You walk with quick and fast paced strides, ignoring any of your classmates that tried to approach, all with friendly smiles on their faces. Any other day but today, you thought. Because today was about him. 

You reach the parking lot, all the way to your car and with your hand on the handle, a small tap to your shoulder makes you freeze. Twisting around on the spot, your eyes widen as they land on your slightly panting classmate.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Taehyun, I didn’t realize you were..” 

Your classmate waves a dismissing hand, shaking his head as he catches his breath. “It’s alright”, Taehyun clears his throat, a small grin spreading across his face. Taehyun was perhaps the only friend you had made during your time spent studying criminal justice. He was easy to talk to, and made your courses somewhat easier. You would often partner up for group projects, and this time around was no different. 

“I was wondering if you’re free tonight, for our project y’know..” He mumbles as he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance between your waiting classmate and the phone still gripped tightly in your hand. — You were supposed to meet Beomgyu tonight. 

Then again, was it really such a good idea to put your own personal needs and pleasure above your important studies, not to mention Taehyun’s as well? Beomgyu had seemingly little care for your own schedule, yet you were breaking your back trying to be there at his every beck and call. — Your eyes meet Taehyun’s hopeful ones, and in that moment you can’t bring yourself to tell him no. Fact is he had actually asked you like a decent human being, rather than sending a simple text from what could only be a burner phone. 

“If you’re not free we can totally reschedule..” — “Does 6:30 work for you?” 

Taehyun blinks, seemingly taken aback before quickly nodding, “Sure!” 

Perhaps this was just what you needed, a little distraction. Part of you wondered what would happen when you didn’t show up tonight, another part didn’t want to find out. 

⸝⸝

Your afternoon was spent like most, cleaning tables at the restaurant in which you worked part time. The hours didn’t pay a lot, but it was enough to get you through the month as you balance your studies. Having hit off with both the owners and their son, you often found yourself staying for dinner or even getting sent home leftovers from the day. Their kindness was remarkable and you made sure to work hard in order to repay them. 

It was nearing the end of your shift, the restaurant was fairly vacant and you had all but much to do. Upon clearing the last table, the doorbell suddenly chimed, announcing the arrival of new customers. Instinctively you turn to greet them — only to freeze in your tracks as your eyes fall on the small party of men. They were all dressed head to toe in black, some even wearing sunglasses despite the early spring season. 

The man by the very front caught your eye and your heart leapt out of your chest when you connected his face with a name. 

“You got any tables for five?” Duri’s booming voice sounds through the painstakingly empty room. He sounded nothing like the playful and almost flirtatious Duri you had met a couple of weeks ago. You nod, “This way”, you say, trying your best to swallow down the lump in your throat as you lead them toward a secluded table by the corner. 

Upon handing them the menu, your gaze keeps flickering back to Duri. He had yet to show any signs of recognition and you were starting to think that perhaps he hadn’t recognized you at all. A temporary sense of relief washes over you, one that would quickly be disrupted as you begin taking orders. You save him for last, turning to him with the most friendly smile you could muster. 

Duri remains quiet, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It didn't remind you of Beomgyu in the slightest, this man felt almost disgusting in a way. “Surprise me”, he then says before slamming the menu book shut. 

It isn’t until the kitchen doors fall shut behind you that you breathe out the tension you had allowed to build up during the past five minutes. What were the odds? Of all the restaurants why did he… You shake your head, dragging a tired hand down your face as you stifle a groan. — If he had recognized you, why didn’t he say something? 

You glance down to the notepad in your hand, their orders scribbled down hastily as you hurried to get away from them. The word “surprise” seems taunting as your eyes linger on the messy ink. A small frown tugs on your brows and you quietly tap the paper as an idea enters your mind. 

When bringing their food back out, you make sure to place Duri’s plate last, a rather strategic mood on your part. Your hands have an undeniable tremble to them as you tuck the folded note under the porcelain, making sure it peeks out just enough for him to see, and him only. Everyone else seems oblivious as they indulge in their meals, not paying you any mind even when you linger by their table for longer than needed. 

Duri on the other hand has noticed the piece of paper. He pulls it out between his middle and index finger, shooting you a questioning glance to which you subtly shake your head. Then he chuckles, the sound building deep within his chest as he shoves the note in his pocket. — You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. 

With a quick bow you murmur a quiet, “Enjoy”, before turning on your heel and darting back to the kitchen. But before you make it to the large doors does his booming voice make you falter. “Thanks for the food, dollface.” 

⸝⸝

Takeout boxes and empty bottles of soju crowd the small coffee table in Taehyun’s living room. Perched on his old sofa, you and your classmate find yourselves engrossed in schoolwork, just like you had been for the past four hours. Time seemed to have little concept when spent in the presence of Taehyun and you found yourself having a lot more fun than you’d originally intended. 

Together you had been assigned to try and solve one of the many cold cases piling up at the office. It was a thrilling concept, it was something real and not fabricated by your professor for once. Using the little evidence there was, you and Taehyun play through the tape recordings of the few suspects interrogated. 

“Wait, play this part back.” Taehyun mumbles as he reaches for the record player. “Doesn't the ex-boyfriend sound suspicious here? You can clearly hear it in the way his voice breaks.” With his finger on the device, he increases the volume as he plays the tape back. You lean forward, your hands on your knees as you listen to the piece of audio. 

“I dunno..” You shrug, giving him a playful smile, “He sounds just like you.” Taehyun snorts, “As if.” Though he’s unable to refrain from grinning when he catches your giggle. 

“We haven’t played that one yet”, you point toward another cassette and your partner nods in agreement as he reaches for it. “Promise you won’t get scared?” He teases, to which you give his shoulder a push. 

Spending time with Taehyun was freeing, it was easy. But despite that, your subconscious kept wandering back to Beomgyu. A nervous feeling bubbled within your stomach, making your heart beat just a little faster at the thought of him. He’d occupied your mind for weeks now, holding your thoughts hostage and keeping you from focusing on what actually mattered. It was unfair, did he think about you like you thought about him? Hardly. 

And after slipping Duri that note, you could only hope he would receive the news of your changed plans. Would he be angry with you, or would he just not continue to see you at all. Not being able to directly contact him gnawed at you — for you wanted nothing more than to dial a quicker number and hear his voice on the other line, as pathetic as it might sound. 

Suppose it was a good thing after all. Had you had his number you probably wouldn’t be able to refrain from texting him. Yet you felt completely powerless like this, as if he was holding the strings and you were simply dancing along, just like he wanted you to. 

A small, shameful part of you felt jealous. What if he’d called someone else. Surely you weren’t the only woman he saw. But you were still special. He never saw those girls again, they were temporary, so you told yourself. Not you though, you weren’t temporary. You were someone he would call for, over and over again, you were special. 

“What do you think it’s going to be like?” Taehyun’s voice suddenly interrupts and you blink as you glance toward him. “Sorry what?” You dumbfoundedly ask, embarrassed over having spaced out like that. But your classmate only smiles, that stupidly warm and comforting smile of his. — “What do you think it’s going to be like? Out there I mean, when we finally make it.” 

You purse your lips, you had never really thought about it like that. Sure, you had known for a long time that you wanted to be someone who did good, someone who served justice and spoke for those who couldn’t. But you had never actually stopped to think of what it would be like when you were actually out there. 

You send Taehyun a lopsided grin, “I think it’s going to be awesome.” 

⸝⸝

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 20th 2024

The sound of car doors slamming shut echo throughout the narrow alleyway. Upon stepping out the distinctive smell of sewage water invades your senses. Yeonjun, too, makes a face of disgust as he steps out beside you. “Fucking hell”, he mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further up in the process.

The area was run down, yet nothing out of the ordinary. A small apartment complex loomed before you. The building was covered in graffiti and a multitude of its windows had been broken, making you assume that rent stayed on the cheaper end. — You didn’t have to stop and ask what kind of people lived here, you were far too familiar with the setting. Perhaps that was why you felt comfortable with taking the lead as you approached the small stone-staircase leading to the front door. 

Bright yellow tape highlights the door concealing the crime scene, reading out the words ‘DO NOT CROSS’ in bold text. Pushing said tape aside, you rummage your pockets for the set of keys you’d been provided. The old wooden door makes a squeaking side upon being opened as it slowly reveals the tiny flat. 

The sewage smell outside had been a mere foretaste of what was to come, and as the stench of dried blood hit you had to refrain from gagging. Behind you, Yeonjun remains silent as he lets you venture inside first, obviously interested in seeing your take on the scene. And while such a thing would’ve usually honored you, it somehow felt more like a curse today. 

It’s dark inside the apartment. The windows were boarded up in order to divert any unwanted attention and the air had become humid due to the confined space, in turn only increasing the sickly sweet and rotten smell of human blood. 

You mimic your senior’s actions of bringing out a flashlight, flicking it on before pointing it out before you. The frontdoor had led into an all but spacious hallway, following it took you to a tiny living room. — Something about crime scenes always makes you feel a melancholic sense of nostalgia. Whatever scene you were currently witnessing had been the last thing someone else ever had. It was a place where they had taken their very last breath, a time capsule, forever frozen in time. 

Chaos has spread through the open area, and instead of stumbling across a huge pool of blood, you find that it’s everywhere. It covers the coffee table, some having dripped down onto the fluffy carpet beneath. The couch is stained, as are the walls leading out into the bedroom. 

“They fought”, Yeonjun suddenly comments as he squats down by the sofa. He points his flashlight in the direction of the torn pillows, the indent of what had undoubtedly been a knife remaining. “He seems to have put up a hell of a fight”, you murmur as you gaze along the bloody handprints across the lower regions of the walls. 

Your senior hums, “They started in the kitchen”, he gets up and turns toward the archway. You follow him inside the small room, your curiosity at its peak. “How do you know?” You wonder to which Yeonjun pulls out a plastic bag from the large backpack he carried. Your brows rise on your forehead as you survey the bloody knife concealed inside. 

“This”, he says before motioning toward the sets of knives on the countertop and your gaze falls on the empty spot. — “Whoever killed Park Baekhyun attempted it with this knife, which they got from here.” 

Yeonjun gestures toward the entirety of the space as he continues, “Besides, this room is far less blood stained than the living room, meaning the fight most likely erupted here and then progressed outside as the victim tried to flee.” — As you take in the state of the kitchen you realize that he’s right. While the room was certainly messy, with piles of unwashed dishes in the sink as well as old takeout boxes, it never appeared to hold any signs of direct trauma. 

You follow him back into the living room as Yeonjun continues to piece together the events of that night. “The victim used pillows to defend himself”, he pointed toward the torn cushions whose feathers lay scattered across the couch. Then he frowns, “He got hit, and badly.” — Your gaze follows the heavy trail of blood leading toward the bedroom. 

“It’s strange”, Yeonjun mutters under his breath. You can’t help but ask, “What is?” 

Your senior motions toward the handprints covering the lower walls, “He couldn’t walk.” 

Admittedly you didn’t quite understand what that had to do with the matter. So what if he couldn’t walk, his fate was sealed either way, no? But Yeonjun obviously saw something you didn’t. His abilities to tell as much from the situation intrigued you greatly, and you were eager to learn his ways. 

As you approach the doorway leading to the bedroom he says, “The autopsy showed a wound on his right leg. Now, presuming that to be the reason he couldn’t walk he would have to have been crawling, using the walls to push himself forward, that would explain the handprints.” Yeonjun points to the dried blood on the cream white walls and you follow his line of sight. “This would have given the offender a great view of his throat, yet he didn’t kill him here.” 

You frown, why not kill him if he had the opportunity? Why waste time like that unless… “He enjoyed the hunt.” Yeonjun firmly states as he stops on the threshold leading into the bedroom. With a quick glance down the hallway, his eyes linger on the front door. “But why aim for the bedroom and not the way out?” 

“Could there be something important here?” You chime in, rocking back and forth on your heels as you eagerly peek over your seniors shoulder and into the bedroom. Yeonjun nods, “Perhaps.” 

The room itself remains untouched, almost neat if not for the unmade bed and dirty laundry scattered around. Though the struggle of Park Baekhyun remains evident on the floor, a thick and heavy trail of blood dragging past the foot of the bed and into the joint bathroom. 

A queasy feeling settles within your stomach as you approach. Out of all the rooms in the apartment, this somehow felt darker. The air was thicker, the scent of blood stronger and the lingering feeling of death almost crushing. — Once a pearly white, now covered in red was the bathroom. And as soon as you stepped inside, you knew that this was where the victim had taken his last dying breath. 

The mirror, broken into a million tiny pieces, lay scattered across the floor like pieces of an unsolved puzzle. The sink had several large cracks in it, you guessed from banging something or someone against it. 

Worst was the bathtub. Filled to the brim with murky red water, the shower curtains ripped off their hangers, likely a panicked response or one out of pure rage. Bloody hand and finger prints adorn the edge of the tub. — Yeonjun sighs next to you, “Victim’s cause of death was asphyxiation”, he points toward the water, “He drowned.” 

It was then your heart sank as reality finally settled in. This could all be Beomgyu’s doing. At first it had felt surreal, seeing him after so many months. Finding out that he was the prime suspect of this case. You had managed to downplay the whole thing, you had denied, no refused to believe that the man you thought to have loved could have done something like this. It was a reality you had been dying for longer than you wanted to admit. 

But as you see the blood, the way the victim had clung to life until the very end. And Beomgyu had taken that from him. He had taken it without any remorse. And you’d watched the grin playing on his lips when you read the case files, you’d heard the smugness in his voice. He was proud of himself, of what he had done. 

You felt sick to your stomach. A hand clasped over your mouth, you shake your head. The room suddenly felt small, its walls closing in on you, shoving the cold hard truth in your face. 

Beomgyu had killed someone. 

⸝⸝

📼 — April 18th 2022 

You ended up staying over at Taehyun’s place that night, and the next morning you carpooled to school. It was easy to forget when you were with him, and class proved to be just as good of a distraction. Before you knew it 9am had turned into 12pm and you soon found yourself walking out of the lecture hall. 

Kayla was supposed to pick you up as your own car had been left at home. Your eyes scan the parking lot for her familiar little car, but in typical Kayla fashion she was probably running late. Deciding to just wait her out, you approach one of the nearby benches. — The spring day is a surprisingly warm one, a gentle breeze soothing over your face as you pull up your phone in order to try and reach your friend. 

You’ve barely made it down to the letter K in your contact list when someone suddenly takes the seat next to you on the bench. Your thumb hovers above Kayla’s name and your body grows rigid as you bite your tongue. You did not have to turn your head to know who it was, for the ring clad fingers that intertwine over his lap tells you everything you need to know. 

Beomgyu quietly hums next to you and you feel your blood go cold. His presence is both invasive and unsettling, and his silence certainly wasn’t helping. How did he know what university you attended — more importantly, why was he here? Because Beomgyu never asked to meet unless he wanted something, and you had never seen him like this, outside and in broad daylight. It terrified you. 

Daring a small glance in his direction, your eyes fall on the dark attire he wore. He gazes ahead as he watches your classmates pass with an almost bored expression on his face. Try as you might but there was no telling if he was angry with you or not. Had he not gotten your message and was that why he was here? Or had he gotten it and that was why he was here? 

You anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek, keeping your attention intently fixed on your phone in your hands. The thick silence seemed to drag on forever and you wondered when Kayla might show up, she would be far from pleased when she saw who you were chit-chatting with. 

“Criminal justice?” Beomgyu finally asks, his voice matching the monotone expression on his face. You give a small, almost unnoticeable nod. 

Beomgyu scoffs next to you as he leans back against the hard wood of the bench. He rolls his thumbs over one another, not bothering to glance in your direction. “I’m sure you’ll make a great little detective, dollface.” 

You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or not, either way you decide against asking. Instead you fiddle with the elastic of your phone case as you await his next words. Your eyes met with a few whom you recognized from your lectures, most just gave awkward smiles, while others attention lingered on Beomgyu. It was safe to say that he stood out amongst the crowd. 

“You were busy yesterday.” He states and you suddenly remember your last conversation, the one which had ended on anything but a good note. — “School project..” You quietly murmur, choosing to leave Taehyun out of the equation. 

“Studies are important”, Beomgyu hums, and it seems as though he’s ready to drop the subject again. But of course you had to go and ruin it. “Did you… Get my message?” The question had been prodding at your mind since yesterday afternoon, and your voice is but a mere whisper as the words leave your lips. 

Beomgyu’s expression flashes with something you can’t quite place. It wasn’t fury but it highlighted his strong distaste for the topic. “Thought I told you not to acquaint yourself with Duri.” He sounds stern, and you felt like you were being scolded. Naturally your gaze drops to the ground and you swallow a gulp. “I know… But there was no other way for me to contact you.” 

“Because you shouldn’t.” He suddenly snaps, his tone teetering on annoyed. Suddenly your conversation begins to feel much like your last. The fear of him walking off on you resurfaces and it felt almost too much to bear. Perhaps that was why you had so abruptly turned in your seat to look at him fully. The action makes him tilt his head in your direction. “But that’s unfair.” 

“How am I supposed to just be available, what if something comes up? How would you know?” You were bordering on sounding whiny, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Beomgyu raises a brow as he looks at you. You can’t tell if he’s considering your words or holding back laughter, but soon he smirks. “If you’re not available then you’re not.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, when reality it’s far from it. 

You frown, “Then what about you?” — He shakes his head, “You worry ‘bout yourself, dollface.” 

Your lips part in objection, but before the protest can slip, you hinder yourself. A bitter realization washes over you as you understand what he’d meant. Worry about yourself… Who were you kidding, he wouldn’t have to wait long for another girl to come along if you happened to be unavailable. How naive of you to think that what the two of you had was anything but causal, he’d already proven you that time and time again. 

Now you just looked like an idiot for trying to compromise with him. You bite your lip as you avoid his gaze, wanting to be anywhere but in front of him right now. And it’s almost as if he’s reading your mind because in no less than ten seconds does he rise from his seat. — This was it, he was leaving you again, just like he had that night, and there was nothing you could do to stop him. 

You watch as he makes his way across the parking lot with his hands in his pocket. Once he makes it halfway across does he turn to look at you. The smirk stretching across his face made your heart leap. “You comin’ or not, dollface?”

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