#if that idea wants to be used once this is over i can apply it elsewhere. for now this is about jean and diluc's ouroboros of obligation
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thinking about sub!rhiannon tonightâŠ
now that weâve talked about dom!rhiannon, allow me to introduce you to: sub!rhiannon. i think this applies most to the version of herself from when sheâs still relatively new to killing. a version that, after a long night out, just needs to fall into the arms of somebody who can take of her properly. sub!rhiannon who trusts you enough to let her guard down as much as this. sub!rhiannon who gets so whiny when she first lets you have your way with her: grinding her hips and begging for your touch the moment sheâs got the courage to let herself want. to let herself be taken by another. she has learned to be in control of things, to take a life with one practiced stab of her knife. but with all that newfound control comes a longing to put it into your hands, from time to time. something about it turns her on so muchâŠto be on the receiving end of things, to have someoneâs full attention on herself, to be the one whoâs controlled, in an environment safe enough to.
sub!rhiannon who shyly admits to a fantasy of hers once, half hoping youâll forget about it and never bring it up again in the aftermath. sub!rhiannon who eagerly lets you blindfold her when you do bring it up again, because youâre attentive like that. she allows you to put the blindfold on, always checking in with her to make sure sheâs as into this as the had hoped she would be -which she is.
âyouâre still good?â you gently whisper into her ear from behind. rhiannon is leaning against your chest, a shiver running down her bare back.
âmhm, yeahâ she nods, licking her lips in anticipation.
âcan you see anything?â you question, running the tip of your fingers down the length of her arms. you take pride in the goosebumps that rise underneath your slow touch.
ânoâ she shakes her head after tilting it experimentally, testing the blindfold youâve wrapped around her head. âno, i canâtâ
âgoodâ you hum approvingly and kiss down the side of her neck. her breath hitches underneath the firm pressure of your lips.
you keep trailing your fingertips down rhiannonâs arm, caressing the inner side of it, over her wrist, to where sheâs clutching her knife in her firm white knuckle hold. itâs trembling.
âand you know you can stop at any time?â you ask, again. youâre just as new to this as she is, but rhiannon had been quite vocal about this specific fantasy of hers.
as if on cue, she whispers âmhmâ and nods her head in the direction from which your voice had come.
you nudge your index finger between the palm of her hand and her tense fingers. like this, you ease her fist open until sheâs barely holding onto the knife anymore. thatâs when you take it from her. rhiannon gasps at the loss of contact with her beloved weapon. it is what keeps her confident, striding the streets late at night, eyes set on a potential victim. and now, that exact knife is in your hand, instead. just like that, she's passed all her power onto you.
you hush her and take it experimentally. sheâs allowed you to hold it beforehand, of course, just to get an idea of the weight of it. to get a feel of the thrill each use brings to rhiannon.
your silence mustâve alarmed something in your girlfriend, whose head darts back to where she suspects you, quietly calling out your name. âiâm still hereâ you assure, as you gently squeeze her shoulder with the other hand. âi told you i got youâ
rhiannon opens her mouth, looking like she wants to speak, but then shuts it abruptly when she hears the scratchy noise of the blade unfolding. she audibly gulps when you carefully guide her back until youâre both leaning against the pillows comfortably. with your mouth close to her ear all over again, you ask: âis this what you wanted?â
she nods in response, about to verbally agree when you suddenly press the blunt side of the blade to her thigh. itâs not sharp, nor is there any risk of harming her, but the cold sensation punches a ragged breath from rhiannonâs lungs anyway.
âo-oh!â her fingers tighten around your free wrist, her whole body tense as you gently drag it along her skin and upwards. like this, thereâs no risk of breaking skin at all. you -being less experienced with guiding the knife- wouldnât trust yourself enough to do that. not that youâd ever mean any harm, but even hurting her by accident is too risky for your own liking. and, besides, itâs not like rhiannon can tell -with her eyes covered and closed underneath the blindfold.
you doubt that itâs about that at all: about the possibility of causing pain. no, itâs about the control. control thatâs usually in rhiannonâs hands at all times. control that she can only give up on when she passes it on to someone else. that someone, who she has enough trust in, happens to be you.
with that in mind, you run the mental up her body, relishing in the way she shivers when you press the flat of her knife against her lower abdomen, then follow the thin trail of hair all the way up to her belly button. rhiannon shakes in your hold when you play with her breast with one hand -gently rolling it between your index and your thumb- whilst the other carefully pushes the same part of the blade against her other nipple.
sheâs always been sensitive there and so she cries out at the sudden cold, arching her body in a beautiful bend. you hush her and guide her back against you with the free hand draped over her stomach. rhiannon's muscles jump to the touch. each comes to her as a surprise, without being able to use her vision in order to detect any motion like she usually would. sheâs panting by now and tosses her head back against your shoulder breathlessly.
rhiannon has grown stronger over the past couple of months: her biceps has grown -not an excessive amount, but enough to be hard to the touch when the muscles flex instinctively. the gain has not gone unnoticed; she could have her way with you so easily if she wanted to and yet.
yet youâre the one holding the blunt side of her weapon to her skin. yet she lets you.
carefully, in order not to startle her, you let your hand slide upwards, over the valley between her breasts, up her throat, before finally being able to hold her chin and gently force her to lean her head further back.
âlook at youâ you whisper, genuinely mesmerized by the sight. you can feel rhiannonâs pulse racing underneath your palm, you can hear the way sheâs forcing each breath to come from her lungs. with ease, you work the knife up to trace her jawline with its flat. sheâs holding her breath, now, not daring to move in your grip.
once youâve had enough of trailing the entire shape of rhiannonâs outline with the metal, you set it aside on her bedside table, careful to fold it beforehand.
when you bring your hand between her thighs next, it is your turn to gasp in surprise. sheâs wet. sheâs so wet, your fingers slide right through her slick folds. rhiannon is dripping for you...
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I've written 2500 words today and my takeaway is that this whole fic really is just:
Diluc: I have feelings for you.
Jean: I have feelings for you.
Narrator: The feeling was friendship, but neither of them had ever experienced it realized that it could be just as strong as romantic love (and cause the same magical problems).
#this one is really just 'the problem was amatonormativity all along' at its heart#part of me is still mulling 'wouldn't it be interesting in different ways if diluc WAS really in love#and this was about not actually having an obligation to reciprocate--yes even if it's killing them'#which is a fic maybe i do want to write someday?#but rn i'm having FUN writing jean trying so hard to fake 'in love' that she's missing that diluc is also faking 'in love'#so i am setting that weird guilt at not writing the other thing gently aside and assuring it that it doesn't have to fuss anymore#if that idea wants to be used once this is over i can apply it elsewhere. for now this is about jean and diluc's ouroboros of obligation#fic nattering
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I donât care about accusations of âpedophilia.â I will not give a fuck, I won't investigate your claims, I will just ignore it.
For one thing the accusation of pedophilia is often entirely meaningless. This is because pedophile/pedo etc are words that carry the taint of child rape, of calling up the disgust such an act naturally produces, but are accusations that donât require such an act or a victim of it. If you call someone a âchild rapistâ that has weight, but you also have to back it up with a victim this person supposedly raped for the accusation to actually be meaningful. But words like âpedophileâ carries no such demands, it literally just means âsomeone who has an attraction to children.â It doesnât require an actual victim. Itâs an accusation about how someone feels in their head and can thus be liberally applied. Someone criticizes your asinine submarine idea to rescue some children in a cave? Call them a pedo. And even words that once had a more specific meaning, such as âgroomingâ can be stretched beyond all meaning to mean whatever it wants to. Someone talked to under-18 people about sex and gender in a way you donât want to? Call them a groomer.
In a culture of pedohysteria, pedojacketing is easy. And itâs especially easy to weaponize it against queer people, the idea that queerness spreads through queers recruiting children by molesting them is one of the oldest queerphobic narrativeness out there. Iâm using âqueerâ here because this is a narrative used both against gay and trans people. But in the present transphobic/transmisogynistic backlash itâs most often used against trans people, especially transfems, as transmasc people are more often infantilized.
But on a more deeper level âpedophiliaâ is the wrong framing of the real problem of child sex abuse. Itâs literally a medical term, a diagnosis. It makes child sex abuse a problem of some sick individuals with a diseased attraction.
This is of course a bad and antifeminist understanding of what rape and sexual violence is. Itâs an inevitable and natural expression of power. The widespread rape of women is caused by the patriarchy, of men having power over women. And the misogynist oppression of women with sexual violence naturally extends to young girls. But all children are disempowered in our society. Adults have power over them in the patriarchal family, in the capitalist school system and other institutions of our society. Sexual violence against children flows from the power adults institutionally and systemically have over them. The vast majority of sexual violence towards children comes from the family and schools, not the âstranger dangerâ of creepy weirdoes hiding in bushes.
This is the reality that the framing of sexual violence as the result of sick individuals with a diseased attraction obscures. And it inevitably calls for a reactionary carceral and psychiatric response, justifying the police, prisons and psychiatric institutions. Thatâs why âwhat will we then do with the pedophiles?â is such a popular clichĂ©d response to prison and police abolitionism. This very framing of the problem calls for a carceral response. If the problem of child sex abuse is sick individuals instead of the system, if we constantly root out and punish individuals we will eventually solve the problem.
In reality carceral responses actually make the problem of sexual violence much worse. The police, prisons and involuntary psychiatric hospitals are violent expressions of power and thus create the conditions for rape.
Pedohysteria is constantly used to justify the expansion of state power. Here in European Union we have had a legislative push to ban end-to-end encryption and make all online communication accessible to law enforcement, total online surveillance. And the reasoning is because otherwise pedophiles can use e2e communication to secretly send child porn to each other without the police being able to do anything, which is of course true, that does and will happen, but doesnât justify killing all online privacy. This âchat controlâ act is literally called âregulation to prevent and combat child sexual abuse.â
The pedohysteria also justifies vigilantism, which tumblr callout culture is part of and is also a deeply reactionary and even fascist phenomenon. Vigilantism rests on the idea that what the police do is right, but they are not doing it well enough, because they are too reigned in by liberal ideas such as laws and regulations and the courts. So random people should take on the role of police to punish âcriminalsâ, like pedophiles. And this goes through tumblr callout culture. A subtext running through pedojacketing callouts of transfems is the idea that transmisogyny does not exist and does not lead to transfems being disproportionately punished, but instead transfems are using their minority status to get away with sex crimes.
This standard conservative rhetoric about how liberals often literally let minorities get away with murder justifies their reactionary vigilantism. Of course in reality, transfems are far less likely to commit sexual abuse of children than other groups of people, because we are systematically excluded from the very institutions where such abuse happens, such as parenthood/the family or schools, because of the transmisogynist stereotype that we are all perverted child rapists. And the callouts of transfems as sex predators are in themselves abusive and protect actual abusers, just like how police and prisons are.
So no, I will continue to not give a fuck if you call someone a pedophile.
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Đ·ĐŽŃĐ°ŃŃĐČŃĐčŃĐ” ĐŒĐŸĐ¶ĐœĐŸ ŃЎДлаŃŃ ŃДаĐșŃĐžŃ ĐœĐ° ŃĐ”ĐČĐœĐŸŃŃŃ Đ°Đ»Đ°ŃŃĐŸŃĐ°
Translated:
Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?
Yes.
Jealousy Headcanon 1
Alastor X Reader
Warning! â
â platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention â
Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?
He always had your attention.
You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.
Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.
But now it was quite odd.
There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.
Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.
He watched from the bar.
"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.
"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"
Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.
"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.
Far too close for his liking.
"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."
He didn't like this demon.
Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-
"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.
The way they tÌ”ÍÌżÍÌŹÌ„Ì»oÌŽÌÍ ÌuÌžcÌ·ÍÌÌÍÍÍhÌ·eÌŽÍÌÍÍÌÌÌdÌŽÌÌŁÍ̧ you.
"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.
It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.
"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"
"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.
"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.
That's ENOUGH!
He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.
"I believe they said no."
The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.
"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."
"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.
His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.
"â”âłâ±€É âźĂ â±€Éâ±Éâłâź âźâ±§âłâź?"
"The slut-"
SNAP
He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.
"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."
His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.
"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"
You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.
"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."
And then you gave him that lovely smile.
"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."
"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.
He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.
After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.
You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.
Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.
Just like he wanted
"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."
"I can't wait to see what you make this time."
Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.
Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.
I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.
~Seline, the person.
Taglist@
@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?
ML for Alastorđ
#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#gn reader#the radio demon#alastor x reader#headcanons#alastor headcanons#jealousy#implied murder#implied torture#gore?#eyeballs#this turned out more like a fic#he do want all your attention tho
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I can't stop thinking about if Simon had taken Edwin's offer
Like Charles finds Edwin in the hallway as ever but this time there's another boy there too, cowering against the wall next to him. Maybe the dollhead spider doesn't care about Simon, too busy focusing on its favorite target, so Charles is left standing in the hallway with Simon when Edwin is taken.
They get out of hell, but Edwin doesn't confess due to Simon hovering behind his elbow. He doesn't want to confess his emotions in front of his killer, who he probably hasn't even properly figured out how he's feeling towards yet.
The Night Nurse is pissed they came out with an extra soul but Niko's same loophole still applies and Simon stays.
"This is Simon," Edwin says when it's all said and done, finally introducing the boy that's been hiding behind him since the door closed. "He was a...classmate of mine."
"He saved me," Simon says, looking up at Edwin moony-eyed and Charles knows that look and something settles heavy in his stomach.
"Glad to have ya, mate," he tells him even though the words taste sour. This other boy knew Edwin when he was alive, the thought is slightly terrifying to him.
Simon settles in fine with the agency even if the agency feels a little crowded now with five people in it but he continues to moon over Edwin and Edwin just...never tells anyone how they actually knew each other. He reasons it just doesn't matter, that he can't find the right time, whatever.
Charles never really warms up to him, though he tries to hide it, but he sees the looks Simon gives Edwin, a soppy smitten look that is somehow worse than anything Monty or the Cat King ever tried with Edwin because of all of them, Simon arguably knows the most about like Edwardian courting. That, like Edwin, Simon has also survived hell. Charles hates the idea that someone could potentially understand Edwin more than he does.
He hates it so much that nothing further happens between him and Crystal because the idea of Edwin being left alone with Simon bothers him so much. He sees Simon adjusting Edwin's collar one (1) time and it makes him feel sick.
And then there's the fortune-teller.
They only go to her sometimes for cases because she never fails to freak Charles out but her prophecies tend to be accurate like 60% of the time which is pretty good for a fortune teller. She looks at the two of them at the end, because it is just the two of them for once, and then looks just at Edwin.
"How kind you are," she says, the words a compliment but the tone snide. "To house your killer. Pray tell it doesn't come back to you."
"What." Charles says. "The fuck."
Charles is furious, of course, and it takes Edwin a long time to talk him out of smashing Simon's face in with the new cricket bat.
"He's like me," he insists in that quiet but firm voice. Charles wants to scream that Simon is nothing like Edwin - that he doesn't have a fraction of Edwin's kindness or pissiness, that his blue eyes are not nearly as beautiful as Edwin's green - but before he can even open his mouth, Edwin continues. "He...He likes boys, Charles. He likes me."
Oh. Oh.
Charles stares at Edwin who is looking back at him, trying and failing to hide the fact he's terrified, and Charles doesn't give one shit that Edwin likes boys because he's his best mate forever. He's still pissed that Simon is apparently staying but he has to hug Edwin at that. "I'm still pissed you didn't tell me about him," is all he says, swallowing back the other words he wants to say.
Charles grows even more paranoid about Simon being around, who has to get used to the fact that Charles takes to swinging his cricket bat ominously every time he comes within ten feet of Edwin. He finds out that adjusting clothing was an Edwardian courting thing and wants to break something. The very idea the very person who killed his best mate is now trying to put the moves on said best mate pisses him off.
It also makes him think of numerous times Edwin had readjusted his collar or jacket in the past and it makes his non-existent stomach flip.
Eventually, Simon decides he's ready to move on to his after-life and Charles keeps his hands from fisting when he looks at Edwin with that same soppy look. He knows Edwin has forgiven Simon by now but Charles has always been better at holding a grudge and he knows what is going to come out of Simon's mouth before he even asks. He knows that if Edwin says yes, he won't stop him.
Charles also knows that if Edwin does, there is no way he is going to find any kind of his own afterlife.
"You could come with me," Simon says hopefully and the moment after is the longest in Charles' life.
"Thank you, Simon," Edwin says kindly and Charles has to keep himself from crying. "But I have no interest in going anywhere without Charles."
He steps back - away from Simon and back towards Charles. Ears suspiciously pink, Edwin links their hands and they watch as Simon follows the Night Nurse.
#dead boy detectives#edwin payne#charles rowland#paineland#my writing#fanfiction#i have been wanting to write this so bad#but it's like minimum 5-10k in my head and i just don't have the TIME for it#but i got hit with the idea that edwin getting courted by someone from the same era#also charles confesses first like 0.00005 seconds after simon leaves#and they smooch right after#and simon WAS actually trying to put the moves on edwin but edwin actually realizes bc he at least knows these moves#but he didn't care bc he was too busy mooning over charles and wishing he'd been able to confess on the staircase after all#dbda
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cherrybomb || csc
(banner by @sailorrhansol)
cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI
Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.
wc: 19.5k
warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut
Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily
This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!
Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol
Teaser:
âMarshall, with all due respect, I donât know why youâre calling me,â you admit. âYou were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I canât drift anymore.â
âYou couldnât then,â he points out. âThat was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift⊠theyâve had time to mellow.â
Heâs wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.
âHave you talked to him about this?â Youâre afraid of the answer.Â
The Marshallâs voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. âMr. Choi will follow orders,â he says evenly, âand so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.â
âYou canât order us into being able to drift again,â you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest.Â
âNo,â the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, âbut I can - and will - order you to try.â
Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...
The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.
Thatâs what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.
Thatâs what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.
Youâd marked him as your first choice.
You were both nineteen. Youâd grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charronâs Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parentsâ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.
You needed Seungcheol.
The jaeger program didnât turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.
Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.
When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that youâd get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.
Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly weâd work together.
And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.
Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldnât get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didnât expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.
It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.
You didnât talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didnât see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.
The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didnât matter.
Youâd met your co-pilot. Youâd found your partner.
â
He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didnât get from you.
âI know who you are,â he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. âYour parents piloted Charronâs Revenge.â
You narrowed your eyes at him. âThat better not be why you picked me.â
He gave his head an annoyed little flick. âOf course not. I picked you because youâre fluid - and Iâm not.â
Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. âThatâs true,â you allowed. âYouâre not fluid. But youâre purposeful, and-â
You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.
âCherry, did you hear?â he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. âThe crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.â
âChoi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,â you said, introducing the two young men. âHannie does more than gossip, I promise. Heâs one of the pilots for Devilâs Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.â
âIn practice only,â Jeonghan demurred. âFor now.â
âCherry?â Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. âThatâs not what I wrote on my paper earlier.â
âJust a nickname,â you explained. When you were very small, youâd struggled with the name of your parentsâ jaeger, calling it Cherryâs Revenge instead of Charronâs, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. âOnly my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever youâre comfortable with.â
âNo,â he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. âI like it.â
You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. âSo, whatâs your story? Youâve heard of me. I havenât heard of you.â
He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. Thereâs something about being in a room thatâs positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. Youâre not alone.
âNot much of a story, not like you,â he admitted. âI grew up thinking Iâd take over my dadâs business. We lost my dad⊠then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. ButâŠâ He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. âIâm strong. So I came here. I came to fight.â
You sidestepped the bruises heâd bared. âNot like me,â you repeated with a bit of a scoff. âI hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I donât have one, not yet.â
Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality youâd seen. âSo all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome arenât true?â
Your jaw dropped. Youâd heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, youâd be able to prove them wrong. âWhat rumors?â
âYouâre spoiled,â Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. âEntitled.â
You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. âAnd bitchy! Thatâs just what Iâve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, Iâve got to go. Love ya!â
You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.
If only you could.
Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.
âI donâtâŠâ you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. âI donât think I really deserve all that.â
He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. âWhat Iâd heard,â he said calmly, âis that youâre a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless itâs from your friends, apparently.â
This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe heâd decide he didnât want to co-pilot with you after all.
âI think itâs up to you which story gets told,â he said finally.
âYeah,â you said, nodding. âThatâs what I always said. So⊠letâs get started.â
â
You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.
You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapidsâs main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.
Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.
You got to know Seungcheolâs fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.
None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didnât pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.
You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.
Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.
The fighting was the easy part.
You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldnât even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.
On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.
Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. âStarting tomorrow, youâll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If youâve talked about it out here-â he swept an arm across the deck, â-it wonât take hold so strongly in there.â Heâd jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.
Seungcheol didnât look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. âYes, Sir,â he said steadily.
Your parents werenât technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charronâs Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadnât been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.
You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.
âCongratulations,â your father said warmly from across the table. âYou worked hard to get here.â
âThank you,â you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. âI hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.â
âWhat do you think of him?â your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.
âI think heâs a great fighter,â you said. âThe rest⊠I guess Iâll have to learn.â
âDo you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?â
You swallowed. Sheâs right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughterâs life in her co-pilotâs hands, every time thereâs a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.
You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.
âYes,â you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. âYes, I trust him.â
âThen we wish you luck,â your father said, and raised his glass. âTo Duellona Fury.â
âTo Duellona Fury,â you echoed.
On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if sheâd done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.
You never asked them if they missed it.
â
You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.
âHave you done this before?â you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.
âNot with someone else,â he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. âOnly alone.â
You nodded. Youâd grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.
âNormally,â you explained, âyou focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So thereâs no resistance.â
âHave you done this before?â Seungcheol asked.
You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. âIâve practiced it - Iâve done the meditation with partners. But Iâve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.â
This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.
You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheolâs inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.
When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -
It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadnât felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.
You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.
Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheolâs shins, he asked you, âWhere do you wish you were right now? If you werenât here.â
You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. âIn a tree.â
A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasnât sure you werenât making fun of him somehow. âA tree?â
âNo, really,â you insisted, still smiling a little. âThereâs not a lot of nature here, in case you didnât notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.â
Seungcheol didnât respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.
You frowned, reading him exactly. âYou think Iâm sheltered,â you observed. It wasnât a question. He couldnât say no.
He looked at you, then. âYou were sheltered,â he said, voice low. âBut when I say it, I donât mean naive. I just think⊠thereâs a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You wonât see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.â
You nod, accepting this. âI wonât see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. Thereâs a lot of world out there - that weâre trying to keep safe.â
Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, âHave you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?â
âSort of,â you mumbled.
Heâd rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. âKind of seems like a yes-or-no question.â
Your lips twisted. âThen, no. But Iâve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charronâs Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldnât see her get sawed in half.â
You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. âI know itâs not the same as looking one in the face myself,â you whispered. âBut the fear⊠shouldnât that fear count, shouldnât it feel the same?â
Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.
âWhen Menaceclaw attacked,â he said, âhe missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasnât even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I donât think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one⊠nothing was going to be⊠the same, or okay. I donât know.â
âYou knew what you lost,â you said quietly. âPart of you did.â
He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. âYou never knew anything different. It wasnât a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.â
You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.
âWhat?â he asked through the quiet laugh. âWhy are you looking at me?â
âWhat else?â you mused. âWhat else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?â
He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.
âA lot of my family, probably,â he said. âA lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.â
You laughed without meaning to. âMy condolences?â
He grinned at you, pleased. âEh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.â
You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. âWhat about you?â he asked off-handedly.
âMid sex?â you asked, eyebrows raising. âI hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I donât do anything mid.â
âNo,â he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. âI meant - what will we see when itâs your turn?â
âThe Dome,â you said, half-joking - but it was true. âTraining. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.â
And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you werenât saying.
âWeâll have our turn,â he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. âWeâre gonna be fucking unstoppable. Letâs go again.â
Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.
â
Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.
You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.
âMeet you there?â you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.
âSure,â he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.
You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didnât know.
Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. âOur table,â he whined.
âThereâs Chan and Wylie,â you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.
âYouâre bleeding, Cherry,â he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.
You started to scan your arms - you didnât feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.
âSorry, Cherry,â he murmured. âI shouldâve pulled that punch.â
âNo you shouldnât have,â you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. âYou pull shots in practice, youâll hesitate in the field.â
âSheâs right,â Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. âWhat you practice will show up in your muscle memory. Youâve got to mean it, every time.â
Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, âDid you guys see the new jaeger?â
âI did,â Seungkwan said eagerly. âChaser Supernova, or something like that? Sheâs smaller, but sheâs supposed to be fast.â
âIs that her team at our normal table?â you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.
The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwanâs two co-pilots - settle in.
âTalking about Supernova?â he asked, hands busy opening his drink. âThey seem okay - theyâre a trio, like us.â
âWhere is Seokmin?â Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. âI havenât seen him in like two hours.â
âTalking to Jihoon, I think,â Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. âHe lost another co-pilot today.â
âNot again,â you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.
âThat was freaky,â Wylie said, just as Chan told you, âYou two are acting like us, now.â
âWe do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,â Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.
Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.
âWe wonât be,â he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.
â
The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.
âDonât be nervous,â you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.
âIâm never nervous,â he said, suddenly cocky.
If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.
âItâs only practice,â you reminded him. âAnd itâs only me.â
He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.
âNormally,â your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, âright now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we arenât dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, weâll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.â
You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.
âYouâre all good?â Nainsi checks. âThen Iâm going back into the tech bay - youâll hear me through the intercom.â
Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheolâs gaze and couldnât help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.
He didnât return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.
Over the intercom, you said clearly, âReady and aligned.â
Nainsi answered, âPrepare for neural handshake.â
You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulatorâs tech system spoke around you, 3⊠2⊠1⊠neural handshake initiatingâŠ
At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.
The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheolâs childhood home. You didnât know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.
Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.
Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.
You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.
âItâs not real,â you reminded him gently. âItâs just a memory.â
âI know,â he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. âItâs just⊠good to see them.â
The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.
You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, youâre going to be fine.
And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.
Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.
Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure⊠recalibrating in 3⊠2⊠1âŠ
âItâs only a memory,â you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.
Neural handshake disengagedâŠ
âSeungcheol!â you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. âWhat the hell was that? You pushed me out!â
He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. âNot that,â he said, a little ragged. âIâll let you in but - not that.â
âYou donât get to choose!â you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, heâd never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. âItâs kind of an all-or-nothing thing!â
He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. âSorry. Iâll⊠letâs try again.â
You didnât answer, fuming silently instead.
âIâm sorry, Cherry,â he said. âThe stuff with my dadâŠâ
âYou canât cherry-pick what we see and what we donât,â you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. âDonât you laugh, Seungcheol, itâs not funny!â
But you were laughing through the scolding.
âStop,â you whined.
Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. âItâs not about you,â he tried to explain. âIâm not keeping you out. Iâm keeping me out.â
âDonât chase the rabbit,â you told him, shaking your head. âSee what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I donât know⊠grief - rise up⊠thatâs when weâre going to have trouble.â
âFind the next door,â he repeated, eyes on the floor. âGot it.â
âYou canât push it away,â you reminded him, âbut you donât have to stay in it, either.â
He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.
The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.
âSeungcheol.â
He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadnât called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.
The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.
You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you donât have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, âIâm here.â
The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.
You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his fatherâs memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.
â
It got easier quickly. Seungcheolâs ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.
The strolls through your mind went easier - youâd had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.
Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. Heâd sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charronâs Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parentsâ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, âCharronâs Revenge, cleared to return.â The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.
You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.
âSeungcheol!â you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.
âWeâre approved to drop!â you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. âWeâre on the drop schedule for tomorrow!â
His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.
You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didnât go off, because you werenât on duty, werenât approved to fight.
Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.
âCat-3 in the west bay,â someone shouted.
âDeploying Devilâs Advocate!â
You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.
âLet us drop,â you said quickly, knowing time was precious. âItâll be like practice. We can be back-up. Weâll hang back.â
âAbsolutely not,â the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. âYouâre not approved yet. We donât need a liability right now.â
âWeâre scheduled for tomorrow!â you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.
âWeâll get our turn,â Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course heâd come out, of course he found you.
You deflated. âIt could have been us. We are hours from approval.â
He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. âWeâll get our turn,â he repeated. âDonât make trouble.â
You glowered, but you knew he was right. âFine,â you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.
You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, âDevilâs Advocate, cleared to return.â
Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.
âTomorrow,â he promised.
âTomorrow,â you repeated.
â
Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.
Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a plannerâs touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.
But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before youâre even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.
That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.
Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.
âShe looks sick,â he said, the grin taking over his face.
âI canât wait to fuck shit up,â you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.
âReady?â the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. âWeâll get you calibrated and dropped, and then youâll do a lap of the bay. Weâre sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.â
The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.
âWe donât need a babysitter,â Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.
âItâs just safety protocol.â The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. âHave fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.â
You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaegerïżœïżœïżœs mainframe.
Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdomeâs sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.
For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheolâs delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.
âHow is it?â Soonyoungâs voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasnât far behind you.
âIncredible,â Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, âItâs everything.â
It didnât matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didnât matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.
â
The west bay became Duellonaâs playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.
It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.
âCome in, Duellona Fury,â Nainsiâs voice came through. âWe have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -â
Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.
âAre you ready for this?â you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.
âYou know I am,â he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.
When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.
âLetâs fucking go,â Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.
It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.
The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellonaâs shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.
âAre we breached?â you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.
âNot yet!â he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.
You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.
âCherry!â Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. âCherry, donât fight me!â
âMove with me!â you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.
Donât fight me.
You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaijuâs trajectory, just as youâd done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaijuâs middle that sent it stumbling.
âWeâve got him,â you said, feeling a win.
âDonât get ahead of yourself,â Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.
Duellonaâs arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.
âI donât think we can hold it,â you managed through grit teeth.
âWeâve got this,â your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.
âDrop the bombs and head for the east side,â you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bayâs churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.
âReady?â Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. âAre we far enough away?â
âLight him up,â you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.
â
âHowâs your shoulder?â you asked, later, in the med bay.
âNot that bad,â Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.
âIt wonât happen again,â you promised. âI think I just⊠practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. Iâm sorry.â
Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. âThereâs nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.â Then, he brightened. âYou know what I want to do?â
âWhat?â you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.
His smile was devilish. âI want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.â
âÂ
You marked the passing of two years in statistics.
Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.
Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills.Â
Seventy-two mainframe repairs.
Twenty-eight achievement awards.
Nine television interviews.
Six upgrades.
One ill-informed âvacationâ during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldnât miss a fight in which you were needed.
Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheolâs mind and heart. But that stat shouldâve gone first.
It was a good high. Your team had a good run.
It wasnât a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.
There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldnât bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they werenât.
There was no moment of realization at all.
Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.
If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.
Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead.Â
You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.
âLooks like itâs only a Cat-1,â Mission Control told you.
âOn it,â you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheolâs as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves.Â
You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadnât. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated.Â
He caught your gaze for only a second. âFocus, Cherry,â he cautioned. âDonât get cocky.â
âI would never,â you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.
For a second, things felt better.Â
The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju youâd been sent for.Â
You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each otherâs.Â
This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away.Â
It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.
No.Â
You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheolâs consciousness out of yours.
Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering.Â
âCherry!â Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellonaâs mainframe.
You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted.Â
Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.
âRecalibrate faster!â you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them.Â
You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.
You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.
âWhat was that?â Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed youâd caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.
âI donât know,â you lied, still panicked and desperate.Â
âBullshit,â Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. âIâm fine now,â he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.
You fought the urge to cower, knowing heâd never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.
Then, more calmly this time, he asked, âWhat happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.â
There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.
âI donât know,â you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true. âI got scared.âÂ
âThat canât happen, and you know it,â he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. âYou canât keep secrets - thatâs piloting 101. Weâve got to handle it. You know whatâs at stake here.â
You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasnât just feelings, it wasnât just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.
Your parentsâ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.
âIâm going to my mom and dadâs for a while,â you said quietly.Â
He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.
You werenât sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.
You didnât go to your parentsâ, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaegerâs torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.
âWhereâs Seungcheol?â Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol.Â
âHeâs pissed at me,â you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isnât Seungcheol with you?Â
You werenât sure sheâd understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.
âWhatâd you do?â Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.
âAlmost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,â you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.
Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. âCherry!â she scolded.Â
âThere was something I didnât want him to see.â You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped sheâd just know what it was, hoped you wouldnât have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.
Wylieâs face dropped into irritation. âCherry,â she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.
You looked up at Duellona Fury again.Â
âYou canât do that,â she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. âYou know you canât do that.â
You canât love him? Or, you canât keep secrets from him?
You didnât ask. You didnât want to know the answer.
Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.
You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.
Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.
And right now, you were the problem.
âHey?â you tried meekly.
He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood.Â
Heâs pissed at me, youâd told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.
âHow was it at your parentsâ?â he asked, voice low.Â
You took one tentative step closer. âI didnât go,â you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. âI watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.â
He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasnât laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.
If he was in your mind right now, thereâd be no question. Heâd know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it.Â
His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. âYou shouldâve had them look at that,â he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away.Â
You shook your head. âYou needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.â Because of me.
âOnly for a minute.â
âA minute too long. Iâm⊠Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to.â
It hung between you. You donât know if youâd inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadnât been just seconds ago.
He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. âYou pushed me out.â
It was an accusation, but it was also a question.
âIâm sorry,â you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. âSeungcheol, I was scared.â
Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.
âDonât be,â he told you. âDonât be scared.â
His arms were around you though you didnât see him move. It wasnât the first time youâd let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that youâd found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones.Â
But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.
You donât know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything youâd wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.
You didnât mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.
âCherry,â he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.
Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces.Â
His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you.Â
His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.
âYours,â you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.
Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.
You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.
The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldnât take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.
You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it.Â
He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction.Â
Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.
The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like heâd just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.
Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that.Â
His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.
Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense.Â
You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if youâd made some kind of admission.Â
Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way heâd watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you werenât okay, that you needed more or less or him.Â
The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his fatherâs memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.
He felt how youâd always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.
You didnât speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didnât say the words that your lips tried to form - itâs so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, donât stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didnât need wires.
You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldnât help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling.Â
He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. âCherry⊠CherryâŠâ
You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. âCheol,â you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didnât say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing.Â
You didnât know that youâd drifted together for the last time. You didnât know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.
â
The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When youâd first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt.Â
You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.
But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. Youâve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.
Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole.Â
Being unable to pilot, unable to fight.Â
Being brokenhearted.
Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind.Â
You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise youâd swear it was at least a hundred.Â
The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When youâd first come, youâd legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that.Â
As you cross the courtyard between the trainersâ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you donât take for granted the fresh air youâre afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You donât take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.
It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome.Â
It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasnât a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles.Â
When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.
âYouâre later than normal,â one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.
You shrug lightly, unbothered. âStill have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? Iâve got the little ones first, right?â
The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner.Â
Youâre mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still havenât figured out how that happened.Â
It would be a lie to say this wasnât fulfilling, that you didnât love the girls you cared for, that you werenât happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.
But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheolâs teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.
The final time youâd tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.
âDonât do this,â Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.
Donât do this, heâd said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.
After that failure, you didnât tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didnât want to give him the chance to say donât do this a second time.
Youâve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training roomâs side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the centerâs Administrator calls your name from the door.
âThereâs a call for you on my line. I have them holding.â
A call?Â
Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.
Youâve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop.Â
You greet the person on the line with your real name.Â
âCherry?â
Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times theyâve said it on your weekly calls home.
âItâs me,â you affirm. âIs everything okay? My parents?â
âI didnât mean to scare you,â he says, and you heave a relieved breath. âEveryone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.â
You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he canât see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, âMe? Why?â
âWeâre down a few teams,â the Marshall says. âAnd -â
âYouâve got more recruits than places to put them,â you counter before he can finish. âCall one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You donât need me.â
âWe do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.â
Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems theyâre having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. Youâve seen this before, you all have, and thereâs protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck.Â
You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows youâre being taken away.Â
âMarshall, with all due respect, I donât know why youâre calling me,â you admit. âWhat can I give you? I canât pilot Duellona.â
Not anymore.Â
The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didnât have a good response.Â
âI think you can,â he says finally. âIâm not saying it will be easy, and Iâm not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.â
âNo,â you say, the first time youâve voiced it. âYou were there. You saw what happened. We canât drift anymore.â
âYou couldnât then,â he points out. âThat was three years ago. Youâve both had a lot of time toâŠ. Youâve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift⊠theyâve had time to mellow.â
This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administratorâs pen.Â
Heâs wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that youâve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time.Â
And Seungcheolâs anger? The anger and betrayal heâd leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldnât speak for him, but if you had to guess, there werenât enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.
âHave you talked to him about this?â Youâre afraid of the answer.Â
The Marshall hesitates. âNot yet.â
âYou might want to do that first,â you point out. âBefore flying me back only to have him refuse.âÂ
The Marshallâs voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. âMr. Choi will follow orders,â he says evenly, âand so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.â
âYou canât order us into being able to drift again,â you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest.Â
âNo,â the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, âbut I can - and will - order you to try.â
The girls cry when you tell them youâre leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the centerâs only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.
Itâs standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time youâd lost at the Dome, for the fights youâd sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago.Â
Youâd been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. Youâd been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. Youâd been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.
But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh.Â
As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the shipâs railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.
Youâd been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.
Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didnât, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadnât seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together.Â
But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then⊠that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.
Of course, youâd lost it all anyway.
Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?
Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.
You turn away from the shipâs railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. Thereâs no use looking back like this. You canât change it. You arenât even sure you can fix it.
You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but youâre woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.
The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.
The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheolâs hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe heâs moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe heâll greet you warmly, maybe youâll pick up right where you left off.
This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation youâd feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someoneâs mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.
You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isnât getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after heâs gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long.Â
You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. Youâve craved it ever since.
You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.
You know you canât have it - any of it. The daydream isnât real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.
When you arrive at the Shatterdome, itâs your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, youâre happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. Theyâve aged in these three years. Youâve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter.Â
They walk with you to the Marshallâs office, where youâre meant to report upon arrival.Â
You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffleâs strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze.Â
âIt will be okay,â she whispers.Â
Your father catches on. âYouâve faced down worse,â he reasons.Â
You disagree. Thereâs no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them youâll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.
âCome in,â the Marshallâs voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside.Â
All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. Heâs the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.
His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control.Â
You donât know what reaction heâs fighting. You donât know if heâs feeling happiness or hatred. You donât know if heâs fighting a smile or a scowl.
You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat.Â
He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.
âI trust your travel went well?â the Marshall begins.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.
âYour orders,â he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, âare to reconnect as best you can. Youâll follow your old schedule. Youâll spar, youâll meditate, and youâll talk. After some time, weâll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.â
Seungcheolâs voice startles you when he speaks. âHow long do you imagine it will be before we try?â he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it.Â
The Marshallâs eyes narrow, just slightly, as if heâd caught it. âThatâs entirely up to you two,â he says evenly. âWhen you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.â
You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch.Â
âYour allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,â he says. This is his way of dismissing you.
In the hallway, you pause. âIâm just going to drop my bag in the dorm,â you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol.Â
He gives a tight nod. âFine,â he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.
Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. Youâre not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night youâd spent together.
Neither thing happens. You arenât overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what youâve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.
Your footstepsâ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. Itâs pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.
Strangely, itâs stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.
It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesnât speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.
Well, that and sleeping together, but you donât see that on your agenda.
You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what heâs feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.
Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheolâs upper body untense, as if heâd been ready to fight and recognized that you werenât.
âIâm good,â you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like thatâs somehow less dishonest. âLetâs go.â
Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, youâd teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.
You and Seungcheol could - literally, youâd tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You donât know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, itâs too easy.
You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.
Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. Youâll have to touch for the first time, even if itâs forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.
It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.
After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago youâd have used this break to chat, but you donât know what to say to him. Youâre scared that heâll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly donât think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.
After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when youâll spar for real.
You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. Youâd long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like itâs your first time again.
Seungcheol attacks as youâd expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging wonïżœïżœïżœt be enough - eventually heâll cage you in unless you distract him.
You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.
You canât do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.
You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle youâre balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.
You arenât hurt. Not this time.
âGet up, Cherry,â he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. âAnd donât do that shit again.â
He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you donât try to strike. You know he knows it; this isnât how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you canât make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.
You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.
The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.
âIf youâre not going to fight, then leave,â he spits.
âWould if I could,â you retort without thinking. You mean that you donât want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.
It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.
âI didnât mean -â you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.
âDonât waste my fucking time,â he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.
âDonât curse at me,â you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.
He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.
You hate this side of him.
You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.
âSeungcheol,â you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.
âCheol,â you try again. âListen to me.â
âMarshall scheduled us time to talk later,â he says flatly. âRight now weâre scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Letâs go.â
The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time itâs over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.
You donât know what to do to make it all better.
You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours youâre scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.
Youâre wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.
You canât focus at all - canât shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.
Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You canât stop watching him, hoping youâll see him relax, hoping youâll see the moment that he lets go.
He doesnât.
âYour eyes are supposed to be closed,â he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.
âI canât,â you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. Itâs not like you could make this worse. âI canât stop noticing how angry -â
âThen stop pissing me off,â he snaps, eyes opening. âJust a suggestion.â
âDonât talk to me like that!â you cry, and push yourself to stand. Youâre not sure why - maybe just to pace. âYou never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?â
He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt youâve seen since you came home.
âFine,â he finally bites back, and you know itâs as close to sorry as youâll get. âIâll reign it in. Sit back down.â
You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.
âSit down, Cherry,â he repeats, and itâs gentler now. Thatâs what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.
Heâs less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But youâre still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.
The pain feels like a cramp, except itâs behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that youâre out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.
You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.
It wonât do any good, and you know it.
He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and heâd pick you up. Youâd taken it for granted, and youâd run away from it. Youâd chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.
â
Dinner is just as bad.
You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you havenât seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.
âI missed you both so much,â you whisper, the only vulnerability anyoneâs going to get out of you today.
âThen donât leave again!â Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.
âI canât promise,â you admit. Honestly, youâve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. Youâre not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you canât drift?
Youâve already given up hope that heâll come around.
Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what youâve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost donât notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghanâs other side, but something in you prickles, like youâve sensed him.
The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When itâs apparent that heâs going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.
âCome on, Seungcheol,â she scolds, and youâre sure no one wonders what she means.
His face goes dark so quickly itâs alarming. âDonât,â he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.
Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chanâs eyes pingpong between them. Heâs probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.
âItâs fine,â you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. âIâll go.â
âCherry, no,â Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?
âItâs fine,â you repeat, standing. âI told my mom and dad Iâd come by.â
You slink out before anyone else can argue.
You canât even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you canât have him anymore. He isnât yours, not anymore.
When you return to your dorm, heâs already in bed, the lights out. Heâs facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.
You donât try to talk to him. You just go to bed.
â
You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheolâs ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellonaâs mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else youâre able to handle on your own.
âSince you canât do anything else useful,â he adds, and you avoid Seungcheolâs eyes, ashamed.
Standing under Duellonaâs unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like youâre letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.
You work in silence for hours.
Eventually, you crack. Youâre not sure if itâs the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.
You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. âWhat are we doing?â you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.
âFollowing orders?â he says, stepping around Duellonaâs side to look at you. âFixing up the jaeger?â
âFixing up the jaeger we donât get to pilot?â you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.
âIs that what youâre here for?â he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. âTo fight? Is that why you came back?â
You reach up to the walkwayâs railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it.Â
âIâm back because the Marshall gave me an order,â you say slowly.Â
âAnd thatâs it?â he demands.Â
You stare at him. You feel sure thereâs more to the question, more that heâs asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that heâs really asking, you didnât come back for me?
And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: youâd shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. Youâd made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.
Is there more to it, his anger?
Should you call him on it, should you ask?
You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like heâs disgusted with you. âI should have known,â he says coldly. âPrincess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.â
This is something youâve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something heâd pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight.Â
âThat isnât fair,â you say, your voice hard. âIs there another reason I should have come back? Iâd love to hear it.â
He hears the challenge as it is - you didnât ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.
He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.
âExactly,â you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesnât feel like a win at all. âThe bottom line is Iâm here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.â
He shakes his head. âYou left,â he says finally. âThatâs the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didnât want me in your head, and then you left.â
He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you donât, he lets out a derisive little laugh. âWeâre both wasting our time here. The drift wonât work. We arenât going to fix it.â
For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. âYou canât know that,â you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.
âI can,â he retorts. âYou know how I know? Because I donât want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Canât turn back now.â
He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.
âSo thatâs it?â you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and youâre starting to get tunnel vision.Â
The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.
â
You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.
After, you go to the Marshallâs office, determined. Or maybe resigned.
When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.
âRequesting an audience,â you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.
He glances at his watch. âFive minutes.â
You step inside but leave the door open.
âIâm requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,â you tell him as evenly as you can manage. Youâre sure heâs not surprised. âSeungcheol has made it very clear that we wonât be fighting together again. If thatâs the case, then I canât do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.â
You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshallâs face - any hint that heâs considering what youâre saying, or that itâs a lost cause. He gives you nothing.
âPlease,â you say. âThose girls need me. If I canât help here, I can help them.â
The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. âSurely anyone can teach little girls the forms.â
You shake your head. âItâs more than that, and you know it. Itâs not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isnât going to happen⊠Please, donât make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.â
The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.
Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. âIf,â he says, and your eyes widen with hope, âyour co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.â
âNo problem,â you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.
When you step out of the Marshallâs office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. Thatâs always how it was, before.
You look at him disdainfully. âI assume you heard that conversation?â
He nods, once.
âSo?â you ask. âWill you tell him you approve, so I can go?â
For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.
âNo,â he says easily, like itâs kind of funny.
Fury erupts inside you; you canât even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. âWhy?â you demand. âBecause you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?â
He doesnât respond to this. You know youâre right. You know him. You know his mind.
âI hate to fuck up your narrative,â you spit at him, âbut Iâve lost out here just as much as you have. Youâre not the only one who lost the ability to fight. Youâre not the only one who lost their partner.â
You wish you could tell him the rest - youâre not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and youâd had to harbor your broken heart.
He shakes his head. âPoor baby,â he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.
â
You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parentsâ, sometimes on Wylie and Chanâs tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.
The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Domeâs recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isnât quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.
Then, he schedules you to spar.
In your first week, youâd been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. Youâd been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then heâd be soft back to you.
Now, youâre fucking furious.
For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. Heâs surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and heâs been learning the steps in secret.
The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he canât get a hit on you either - youâre too quick, spurred on by fury. Youâve been angry in a fight before. But youâve never been angry at him.
You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.
He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.
âShit!â you cry, hurrying closer. âIâm so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.â
ââM fine,â he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.
âYouâre gonna have a fat lip,â you tell him regretfully. âBut nothingâs bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?â
He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. âNope.â
You take a step back, cowed. âIâm really sorry.â
He laughs a little, wryly. âI bet you feel better, though.â
You bite back a smile. âActuallyâŠâ you say, and he laughs again. You both do.
Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger youâve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.
âI didnât mean to hurt you,â you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.
He avoids your gaze. âI need some water,â he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.
You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.
âHey,â he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. âTell me about Alaska.â
You canât help but smile.
âItâs so beautiful,â you tell him. âGod, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snowâŠâ
Heâs watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match thatâs mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.
âSo you liked it?â he asks. You can hear how hard heâs working to make it sound casual.
âIt was so beautiful,â you admit before ducking below a kick. âBut it was also⊠really hard.â
âWhat was the best part?â he asks.
You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. âWeirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? Iâm the one who knew Yejin wonât sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. Iâm the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because theyâre competitive. Iâm the one that knew that Maria and Anjali donât know their times-tables, that Ximena canât brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.â
He looks at you for a long time. âMaybe you should go back,â he says finally.
It feels like a trap.Â
You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. âIf youâll do this for real,â you say carefully, âthen Iâd rather be here. If weâre actually trying, then I donât want to go.â
Heâs quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.
âWhat was the worst part?â
Thereâs only one answer.
âMissing you,â you say. âLosing you.â
He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.
When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.
â
You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, heâs sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.
You sit next to him and he doesnât get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.
âI canât do this if youâre not all in,â he tells you without looking at you. âYou walked away from me once. I canât let you back in my head if thereâs any possibility youâll walk away again. If youâre with me, I need you to be with me.â
Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like youâre starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasnât yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.
Something about his hurt. Something about why.
âI think we should try to drift,â you tell him.
This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.
âI can tell you how much I missed you,â you reason, âand tell you about how I spent every minute just⊠steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.â
You know what youâre risking. If he gets into your head now, heâll see it all - heâll know everything, heâll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love.Â
But whatâs the harm, now? You canât lose him twice. Maybe itâll be enough for him to realize you hadnât left him because you didnât care about him. Maybe itâll be enough for his forgiveness.Â
Maybe then, heâll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk.Â
Itâs Seungkwan you bother, since heâd been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.
You buzz with nerves. The last time youâd tried this, the neural handshake hadnât even connected. There had just been nothing.
The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You canât even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheolâs memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.
His first memories are a breeze - the ones youâve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his fatherâs hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.
Youâre facing the landing dock on the Shatterdomeâs roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.
You watch yourself walk towards the chopperâs open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.
You hadnât known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.
The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like youâre drowning, like itâs too deep and you canât feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.
âHey,â you say quietly. âIâm with you.â
He nods, still doesnât look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding.Â
Thereâs knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheolâs thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.
You canât stay here, canât let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - thatâs how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if heâs following.Â
He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.
When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. Youâre watching yourselves in Seungcheolâs bed. Thankfully, youâre sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.
The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake.Â
He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.
âSeungcheol,â you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.
âWe can talk about it after,â he says, voice hard. âDonât stay in it. Find the next door.â
Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking heâd pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.
âCherry,â he warns. âThe drift canât -â
You know.Â
And you owe him your side of the story.
You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You donât take his hand. You donât know if you deserve to, if heâd want you to.
When you step through the doors, youâre confused - youâre still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.
Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.Â
You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.
Fear. Itâs still fear - fear that heâll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide.Â
Beside you, Seungcheolâs eyes go wide.Â
âWe have to move on,â you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory.Â
âYou -?â he starts to ask.
âAfter,â you tell him firmly. âWeâll talk after.â
You open the door, and youâre suddenly outside, surrounded by white.
Alaska.
The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know youâre not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.
And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.
If he didnât know before, he has to know now. Thereâs no way he couldnât.
Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.
âWe should go back and talk about this,â he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.
âOkay. Itâs this way,â you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you canât see anything but grey, canât see anything but Seungcheolâs hand in yours.
You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Furyâs conn-pod.
As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, âKwan? We⊠need some privacy. Weâve got to talk - alone.â
His voice crackles back at you. âYes, Iâm leaving, Iâm already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you donât.â
Seungcheol gives you a flat look. âLetâs go home and talk,â he suggests.
Home.
You are so afraid and so hopeful. You donât know how to juggle both.
Back in your small living space, you sit like youâre meditating.
âLetâs figure this out,â he says. âNo lies.â
âNo lies,â you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.
âYou knew,â you say first, bordering on accusation. âI was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you⊠but you knew.â
He nods, his eyes on you. âAnd you,â he says slowly, âdidnât⊠know? That I knew?â
You shake your head, confirming. âI didnât know. I thought I hid it.â
He smiles at you, a little placating. âNot as well as you would have liked.â
âAnd youâŠâ You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. âYou⊠loved me, too?â
He nods. âI did.âÂ
The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.
âWe felt the same,â you echo into your shins. âYou loved me.â
âCherry,â he says above you, his voice like a plea. âI donât understand why - when we⊠when I⊠I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.â
You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign.Â
âYou thought⊠wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?â
He nods. âI thought you knew,â he says, confusion still present in his tone. âI thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.â
You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. âAnd instead,â you realize, âwe couldnât even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.â
He looks at you in wonder. âThatâs why you left,â he breathes, and you know heâs understanding this for the first time. âYou thought we made the problem worse.â
Itâs your turn to nod. âAfter weâŠI mean, I knew if I couldnât hide it from you before that night, there was no chance Iâd be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I⊠was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed⊠hopeless to keep trying.â
The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.
You push on, adding, âI was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.â
Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.
He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. âWeâre so fucking stupid,â he says, and you splutter out a laugh.
âWe really are.â
âI canât believe we lost three years over that,â he says.
âI canât believe you thought it was your fault that I left.â
âI canât believe you left in the first place.â
This makes you smile, guilty. âThatâs fair.â
You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if youâre already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem.Â
âCherry,â he says quietly, stepping closer. âIt could never be too much. I love you. Iâm crazy about you. Iâm only me when Iâm with you.â
You remember him, the night youâd slept together, telling you, donât be afraid. Heâd told you, after all, and youâd missed it entirely.
You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands donât wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he wonât let you move an inch, wonât let you out of his grasp ever again.
You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. âCheol,â you whisper, then kiss him again. âYouâre everything.â Itâs what you should have said aloud the night youâd slept with him.
When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.
âIâm sorry,â he whispers. âIâm sorry I didnât just say it.â
âMe too,â you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. âI should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.â
He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time youâd wasted apart.Â
Youâre interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. Youâre even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.
âIâve heard your drift is working again,â the Marshall says dryly.Â
You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. âSeems like it.â
âThereâs a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savageâs team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?â
Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. âWell?â he asks you. âAre you in, or are you out?â
âIâm in,â you tell him seriously. âIâm with you.â
You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you canât help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded.Â
You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - âReady and aligned.â
Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, âPrepare for neural handshake.â
The artificial voice bounces around you - 3⊠2⊠1⊠neural handshake initiatingâŠ
Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibratingâŠ
Youâre crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadnât seen in years. You resist the urge.
âReady to drop?â He looks sideways at you, sly.Â
You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like youâre twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. âBeen ready. Letâs light âem up.â
â end
thank you so much for reading!!!!
stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!
#kvanity#svthub#svt fanfic#svt fic#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#svt imagines#scoups fanfic#s.coups fanfic#seungcheol fanfic#scoups fic#seungcheol fic#s.coups x reader#scoups x reader#seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol x reader#scoups x you#scoups x y/n#seungcheol x you#seungcheol x y/n#choi seungcheol x you#scoups angst#scoups smut#seungcheol angst#seungcheol smut#exes to lovers#pacific rim au#fic: cherrybomb
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beach day | spencer reid x fem!reader part 2
part 1
warnings: heated kissing!!! slightly suggestive.
word count: 1.2k
a/n: here is part 2!! hope you all enjoy, thank you for the support and 200+ followers!! reblogs & comments appreciated !!
the sun was at its highest point, casting burning rays down onto the white sand. you and garcia were splashing around, emily and jj had run off to look for seashells and derek was building a mega sandcastle with jack while hotch and spencer were sat by everyoneâs bags.
âiâm getting a little cold now y/n, im getting out to warm up.â garcia announced as she began to wade back out of the water, you decided that it would probably be a good idea to take a break maybe get a drink to rehydrate, so you followed the blonde back to the towels.
âhonestly hotch the water is perfect are you sure you donât want to come for a swim?â you grinned as you walked back.
âi think iâm good here.â he mumbled, smoothing down the hawaiian print shirt that adorned his tall figure.
âwell in that case- lets get ice cream.â penelope chirped, as he dried herself off putting on a violently floral beach coverup over her swimsuit.
âice cream!â jack came running back, practically leaping onto his dad, covering them both in sand.
âwell thatâs one way to summon a five year old.â you laughed.
hotch sent you a joking glare before picking jack up. âyeah lets get some ice cream.â he agreed passively.
âmorgan, ice cream lets go hotch is buying!â penelope yelled to derek who was now two feet deep in a hole he was digging.
âwh- i never saidâŠfine.â hotch shook his head in disapproval as he walked away, jack still in his arms, with penelope and derek in tow.
âget me my favourite!â you yelled out as they left, earning a dismissive wave from hotch.
you turned to face spencer, who had now picked up your towel and was using it to block his legs from the sun. his face was buried in his book, with only a few pages remaining.
âcan i use my towel, spence.â you smiled sweetly once his doe eyes met yours.
your two piece clung to your body, saturated in sea water. little droplets of water trickled down your bare skin, spencerâs intense stare watching as they connected to each other and fell from your figure.
he cleared his throat before speaking, âi-uh yeah here.â he quickly pass your towel to you, your finger briefly skimming over his causing heat to rise in your cheeks.
you towel dried your hair, wringing your salty locks out.
spencer closed his book, setting it down on the blue cooler to his right. he eyed you, as you began to pat your torso dry, wrapping the towel around yourself, over your two piece, like you had just stepped out of the shower.
âwhen did you last put suncream on?â you questioned, flicking your hair off of your shoulders.
âi donât know- maybe four hours ago.â spencer pondered.
you gasped loudly in a playful manner, immediately diving into your beach bag and pulling out your trusted factor 30 suncream.
âi- y/n i think iâm fine.â
âyouâre supposed to reapply every two hours- you should know this.â you muttered, shuffling towards spencerâs seated figure.
spencer let out a small groan, although secretly he thought it was cute how concerned you were.
âstand up please.â
âiâm not moving.â a smug smile resting on his face, he wanted to test how serious you were about the application of suncream, surely youâd give up.
you let out a prolonged exhale, dispensing suncream onto your hand.
âyou gave me no choice!â you exclaimed, climbing onto the beach chair. spencerâs eyes widened as you practically straddled the man, one leg resting over either side of his lap.
you pushed back his hair with one hand, gently applying the cream to his face with the other. his face burning at your close proximity, he was staring directly and your towel clad form.
once you finished applying it to his face, you reached for the bottle again, you moved down to his neck, then to his arms. at this stage spencer was compliant, doing whatever you needed of him.
âgive me your arm.â you muttered, taking his forearm and rubbing in the cream on any visible skin. spencer stirred as you shifted your weight to one side, getting comfortable on his lap.
spencer knew you were a confident person, it reflected in your work on the field, but he never expected you to go this far.
âi know youâre enjoying this.â you joked, your small laugh ringing in his ears.
âs-shut up. i say you couldnât wait to get your hands on me.â he rebutted your remark, and now it was your turn for your face to flush.
âso what if i didâŠâ you mumbled, taking his other arm in your hand. spencerâs eyebrows furrowed as he tried to read your expression, he wasnât certain if you meant it. so he decided to find out.
âis that why you wanted my hands all over you?â he questioned. it was a bold move, even for spencer, he couldnât quite believe those words came from him.
this caught you off guard, you dropped spencerâs arm and stared at him, his hazel eyes stared back with intensity.
âand what if i said yes, dr.reid?â you replied, chewing your bottom lip waiting for his reply.
spencer lifted his dominant hand, slipping it under your towel to rest on your waist. you breath hitched in your throat as his warm hand came in contact with your chilled skin.
âmaybe you need a top up.â he mumbled, his grasp on you not faltering.
you studied him, the fresh layer of suncream on his facing causing his skin to glow from the few rays of sun that managed to shine through the gaps of the umbrella.
your hold on the bottle of suncream loosened causing it to fall into the sand below. you brought your right hand up to his face, resting it against jaw as you smoothed your thumb over cheek.
he gave you a small smile, embracing your hold. you reluctantly leaned closer, shifting your position on him. spencer could tell what you were doing, quickly closing the gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.
it was gentle at first, a soft brush that sent shivers down spencerâs spine. you immediately brought your other hand up, running in through his hair. spencerâs grip on your waist tightened, as he brought his other to rest on your thigh.
you shuddered at his touch, your beach towel slipping away from your torso and pooling by your hips. spencer deepened the kiss, as you leaned forward, pressing your body against his. you kissed back hungrily, trailing your hands to cup his face.
spencer pulled away, taking in your features. your eyelids were heavy, your lips slightly swollen. a grin spread across his face as you leaned back in pressing a kiss to your jaw, then to below your ear.
âspence?-â you breathed out, resting your arms around his shoulders as he continued peppering kisses along your neck before returning to your lips. spencer had wanted to kiss you for months, and now it was finally happening, he wanted to savour every moment.
his lips were soft, his kiss much more tentative this time, spencerâs hands tracing over your figure.
you both pulled back to gaze at one another, heavy breaths slipping from your lips. you could practically feel the heat radiating off of spencer. you both sat for a moment, in silence, taking in what had just happened.
âwill you go for a swim with me now?â you questioned.
âi think iâll need to after that..â
taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea
#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you
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Aphrodisiac
rival!seonghwa x fem!reader
Trigger warnings: mentions of anxiety
Content warnings: oral (f receiving), names (baby, sweetheart, pretty), choking, spitting, a little bit of hair pulling, seonghwa is actually obsessed with you
Summary: your colleague-turned-enemy pulls a prank on you.
Word count: 6.8k
A/N: so i actually got this request like a year ago buttttt life happened and i'm just now publishing it. anyways i hope you all enjoy it and will continue to support this blog by reblogging my work and commenting your thoughts! much love, angels. <3
Tags: @bahng-chrizz
Smut below the cut
âIâm sorry, what?â You both said at the same time, eyes wide.
âYes, unfortunately we only have one room left. We can prepare a walk letter for one of you to take to another hotel just a few minutes away and we will pay for your stay, but unfortunately we are fully booked.â The front desk clerk offered an apologetic smile.
âOkayâŠumâŠgive us just a moment.â Seonghwa pulled you back from the desk as soon as you spoke, his expression dark.
âIâm not leaving, y/n, Iâm fucking exhausted.â
âI wasnât going to suggest you do. Iâm more than happy to turn around and go back home.â You sighed, swiping your hand across your forehead. âListen, if youâre staying here then I need the car. I donât give a fuck how we do this, I just want to lay down.â Your lack of snark was concerning to him, given your usual form of communication was bickering.
He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. âLook, why donât we both stay? You can cancel your reservation and save yourself the hassle of going somewhere else. Iâll get a rollaway bed and you can have the huge bed.â
Your cheeks flamed at the idea and you werenât sure if it was due to indignance or something else. Even so, you caved quickly. âAre you sure?â
âWe used to be friends, we can manage three nights together.â He rolled his eyes. The words âused to beâ hurt for some reason.
âOkay. But any funny business and Iâll hurt you.â You gave a warning glare before stepping back up to the desk. âYou can cancel my reservation and give him the room.â You said before excusing yourself, making room for him at the desk.
That was how youâd landed yourself in your current predicament. âIâm a fucking idiot for letting you talk me into this.â
âYouâre an idiot for less but okay.â He shrugged as he dropped his bag on the bed. âItâs not my fucking fault they ran out of rollaway beds. Itâs also not my fault youâd rather eat rusty nails after having your wisdom teeth removed than share a bed with me.â
âActually that last part is entirely your fault.â You snorted humorlessly as you rifled through your bag for your pajamas. A cold knot of anxiety settled in your stomach once more when you couldnât find them. âOh are you fucking kidding me?â You mumbled to yourself as you checked your bag again. Nothing. âWay to fucking go, y/n.â You sighed and held out your hand. âI need the keys.â
âFor what?â Seonghwa asked even as he reached into his pocket.
âI canât find my fucking pajamas.â You sighed again and he watched with concern as you raked a hand through your hair. âIâm pretty sure I left them on my bed when I was packing.â
Instead of the keys, a shirt landed in your hand. âIâve got some basketball shorts too. Theyâve got a drawstring so theyâll fit.â
âYouâre being awfully nice.â You said cautiously. âWhatâs the catch?â
âNo catch. Iâm just not prepared to comfort you if you start crying - by the way, you look like youâre about to.â His usual sass was tinged with something else but you were sure it wasnât concern.
âI am not.â You huffed before squashing your irritation as he handed you the shorts. âThank you.â You mumbled begrudgingly as you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Left alone, he heaved out a sigh. What was he doing? He never really hated you, he was just upset over being passed on for the promotion and was mad that you were offered the position when you didnât apply for it. He was more mad that you didnât take the offer. He couldâve gotten over his jealousy had you not turned down the position but it felt like a slap in the face that you wouldnât take something that was being offered to you when he wouldâve pounced on the opportunity.
Now he was faced with the uncomfortable reality that he still had feelings for you and would be in extremely close proximity to you for three nights but you couldnât stand him. Had things not soured between the two of you, he likely wouldâve made a move during a trip like this. Now he was left with his feelings and no hope of having anything more than a series of arguments with you.
His heart stumbled to a halt for a brief moment before kicking into overdrive when you came out of the bathroom, hair wet from a quick shower, his clothes dwarfing your frame. Part of him was dying to get his hands on you, to kiss and claim every inch of you. You looked absolutely delectable wearing his clothes and his possessive streak was about to rear its head.
Instead, he cleared his throat and turned away. âItâs about time. Do you always take forever to get dressed after a shower?â
âWell now I'm tempted to take even longer next time. Donât play with me.â You gave a fake smile as you circled the bed to where your bag still was. You lifted it off the bed and placed it on the floor by the nightstand then turned the sheets back and grabbed the can of disinfectant spray from a shopping bag. The two of you had already stopped by the store and youâd grabbed a small can.
âIs this really necessary?â He frowned in annoyance even as he humored you and followed suit, moving his things and turning his side of the sheets back.
âYes itâs necessary. Do you know how many people touch these sheets even after theyâve been washed? Or how dirty those laundry rooms actually are? And donât even get me started on the duvets.â You cringed as you began to spray the bed down, lifting the pillows on your side before circling the bed and working on his side.
âAnd weâre about to make it dirty by sleeping here. What is your point?â He rolled his eyes and grabbed his clothes from where heâd placed them on the opposite night stand. âWhatever. Have your fun. Iâm going to shower.â And with that, he left you alone.
Once you were satisfied, you placed the can back in the bag and crawled into bed, cutting the light on your side off. You drifted off before he was even out of the shower.
When he returned, still toweling his hair, you were fast asleep. He was quick to turn the other light off to keep from disturbing you, even though he wasnât ready to bed down just yet. He stood over you and watched for a moment, taking in the planes of your face. You looked so worried, so fatigued. What had changed for you in the time that your friendship had fallen apart? He didnât think too hard about it and got in bed as well.
ââââââââââââââââ
Your presentation had been a failure and you were currently nursing your wounds at the hotel bar, trying to avoid Seonghwa. You knew heâd mock you and you couldnât handle that at the moment.
You let out a deep sigh when he found you, turning further away from him when he sat beside you. âPlease donât.â
âDonât what? Remind you of how badly you fucked that up?â He paused before feigning apology. âOops. Too late.â
âSeonghwa please just stop.â You felt a lump forming in your throat and reached into your purse for your wallet.
âWhy? Youâre the one who screwed up, not me. You canât seriously expect me to feel bad for you.â He did but he couldnât stop digging the hole deeper.
âSeriously. Stop.â You forced out, rifling through your wallet as pressure built behind your eyes.
âListen, I'm sorry youâre not good at public speaking or whatever, but thatâs not my problem. Itâs not my job to be your bestie.â
âYeah, fucking obviously.â You finally spat as you tossed down a twenty and stood. âJust leave me the fuck alone, Seonghwa.â Your face was red and your vision was starting to blur with tears so you hurried off towards the elevator, not wanting to let him see you cry.
It wasnât your fault you bombed the presentation. Your anxiety had choked out every word youâd tried to say so youâd fumbled through each slide and heâd stepped up, covering the information in a more coherent manner. If heâd been anyone else, you wouldâve found comfort in the support, but he wasnât someone who did things because he cared.
You stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor before repeatedly smashing the âdoor closeâ button but it was too late. Heâd managed to get an arm in the door before it shut and stepped inside, an unnerving amount of concern etched on his face. Why was he concerned? He loved seeing you pissed off.
âY/nâŠâ He reached a hand out but you jerked your arm away as the doors slid shut.
âDonât fucking touch me, Seonghwa.â Your voice cracked and you turned away so he couldnât see the tears starting to fall.
âY/n, stop.â He grabbed your arm more forcefully this time and spun you around. You looked down so he couldnât see you properly and he just sighed as he pulled you into his chest. âIâm sorry.â
Those two words broke something in you and your shoulders shook with a silent sob. He rubbed circles on your back as you cried into his chest, his familiar scent slowly seeping into your bones and calming you as you finally reached the tenth floor after several minutes. Why the fuck was the elevator so slow anyways?
As soon as the door opened, you untangled yourself from him and headed off towards your room without a word. You werenât sure what to say.
The second the door was shut, he reached for you again. âY/n, we need to talk.â
âWeâve needed to talk for two years. Why now?â You were tired of trying to figure out what he wanted. Tired of the fighting that only seemed to encourage his irritating ways.
âBecause I'm tired of hurting you.â He sighed, gently squeezing your bare shoulders. His warm hands on your skin offered a measure of comfort you hadnât realized you needed.
âWhy? You hate me.â
âI never hated you. I was angry at you.â He corrected, urging you towards the desk chair and forcing you to sit before he propped on the desk. âI didnât understand how you could pass up such an amazing opportunity and I was angry that you didnât want it as much as I did. It pissed me off that you could want to miss out.â
âSeonghwa, I never wanted that position. Iâm comfortable where I'm at.â You sighed and crossed your legs. âHave you ever considered why I didn't take it?â
âI just said that.â
You ignored his snarky tone and carried on. âNot only did I not want the job, I knew that you did. It was partially out of self-preservation and partially out of respect for you.â
âIf youâd respected me as much as you say, you wouldâve taken the job and not seemed so ungrateful.â He deadpanned and you felt more tears, this time from frustration.
âI just told you I didnât want it!â You exclaimed, uncrossing your legs and leaning forwards. âYou saw what happened today. That wouldâve been every day if Iâd taken the promotion. Itâs embarrassing and anxiety-inducing, something I frankly donât need more of. Iâm not mentally strong enough for that humiliation. I didnât want to take it because I knew Iâd fail.â You said bitterly as you stood and kicked off your heels. âAnd for the record, I told them you were a better fit. So if you want someone to be mad at, be mad at them. Not me. I tried to get you the job.â You spat and then you stormed into the bathroom, leaving him sitting in silence.
It took you fifteen minutes to get ready for bed and when you emerged from the bathroom, he was sitting on the foot of the bed. âIâm sorry. I didnât think to consider the full reasoning behind you turning down the promotion. I was just so angry that you were chosen and still refused.â
âYouâve always been more ambitious than me. Youâre more comfortable in your own skin than I am. More confident.â You shrugged and sat on your side of the bed.
âWhich is sad, quite honestly.â He smiled humorlessly. âListen, I know this is my fault. Can we agree to stop the feud?â
âThat depends on you. I donât instigate, I react. So we can only stop this if you stop trying to get under my skin.â You shrugged and laid down, pulling the sheets up to your chin when he stood. âNow go take a shower.â You hummed and flicked off your lamp.
It didnât take long for you to fall asleep once he left the room but the next morning, you awoke to a strong arm wrapped around your waist. You realized your head was laying on his other arm so you tried to move away but he pulled you in closer. âSeonghwa.â A sleepy grunt was his only acknowledgement. âWhy are you cuddling with me?â
âYouâre warm.â He hummed, his voice deep with sleep. Holy hell⊠âMustâve moved in my sleep.â He hadnât. Heâd been holding you the whole time.
âOkay but youâre awake now. So why are you still holding me?â Your cheeks were rapidly heating at the realization that he was shirtless this time. He made an unconcerned âI dunnoâ noise and shrugged but made no move to release you. You tried to wriggle away again and his grip tightened.
âWell now I canât let you go.â His voice was laced with amusement. âSolely because you want me to.â
âUnhand me!â You cried, a smile already on your face as you struggled to get away again. He laughed and pulled you further against him. âCome on, I thought we were gonna act like adults.â
âI never agreed to that. I just said Iâd stop being mean.â He pointed out as his fingers dug into your side, earning a soft squeal as you jolted. âAnd in the spirit of being nice, I wonât exploit your ticklishness right now.â
âYouâre such an asshole sometimes.â You rolled your eyes, still smiling even as he finally released you.
âGo get dressed. Iâll make us some coffee.â He hummed. You did as he said, padding to the bathroom after grabbing your clothes. As soon as you were gone, he shot out of bed with a grin, ignoring how perfect you looked in his clothes. Just because he was being nice didnât mean he couldnât still prank you.
He brewed the coffee and mixed in the creamer and sugar like you liked - heâd observed you making your coffee many times and knew how you liked it - then dropped in the chocolate. He knew how much you loved chocolate so youâd be thrilled to have it in your coffee. It was like a milkshake with how much creamer was in it.
When you came out a few minutes later, he handed you the cup. âI added something for you.â He hummed, waiting for you to sip the drink, which you did cautiously. Your face lit up at the sweet flavor and you thanked him, not catching the mischief in his smile as you drank in comfortable silence.
âYou know, part of me isnât sure I should trust you just yet.â You admitted a few minutes after finishing your coffee.
âI know. Iâm sorry. Iâll do my best to change that, okay?â You nodded and bit your lip as you settled against the headboard. âWeâve got the whole morning free. What do you want to do?â
âHonestly, I kind of want to go back to sleep.â You chuckled as he gathered his clothes to get ready for the day.
âI mean, you could.â He shrugged as he padded to the bathroom. âIâll be right back.â
In the short amount of time it took him to get ready for the day, you noticed something was off. You were warm and your breathing was picking up. You felt flustered at the memory of his shirtless form, sweats slung low on his hips, and your thighs squeezed together involuntarily. Why were you so turned on?
Your mouth went dry for a brief moment when he came back before watering as you took him in. He was in all black, his button down hugging his chest just right and his thighs looking powerful in his tight pants, and you wanted to pounce on him. What the fuck?
âYou good?â He drawled, lifting a perfectly-groomed eyebrow.
âYeah, why?â You responded immediately. That was far too quick for your liking.
âBecause you look like a tomato and youâre eyeing me like a piece of meat.â He paused and made a show of moving closer. âWait a minuteâŠâ He leaned down and examined you for a moment before grinning, faking shock. âAre youâŠturned on?â
âNo!â You practically shrieked.
âYou mustâve really liked that coffee.â He snorted as he righted himself.
Everything clicked at his words and your jaw dropped slightly. âWhat did you do?â
âOh you know.â He shrugged as he went to his bag and reached inside. âGave you a treat.â He grinned as he held up the pack of aphrodisiac chocolates.
âYou motherfucker-â You chucked a pillow at him, indignation filling your words.
âShould I have one as well? Maybe we can fuck away the animosity.â He wiggled his eyebrows as he opened the box and pulled out the foil packet. When you hesitated to turn him down, his grin grew. âYou want that? Want to fuck away all the bad feelings that ever existed between us?â
Your breath hitched as he broke off a piece of chocolate and lifted it to his lips. Finally, you nodded sheepishly. He quickly popped the candy in his mouth and let out a theatrical groan, both for your reaction and because it tasted amazing.
Your cheeks grew hotter at the sound and you averted your gaze, earning a laugh from him. âYouâre too cute, y/n. You never struck me as the shy type.â He stalked towards the bed, lifting one knee onto the mattress as soon as he reached. âYou wanna know what I think?â When you didnât respond, he continued anyway. âI think that the second I get you naked, youâll be a completely different person. You seem like a screamer. I bet you like it kinda wild.â
You hated how your body reacted to his drawl and you especially hated how quickly he figured you out but didnât say anything to correct him. Instead, you simply accepted his advances when he moved closer and tipped your head back against the headboard. âNowâs your chance to back out.â He warned, his lips a hairâs width away.
Instead of verbally responding, you closed the tiny gap between the two of you. You felt a jolt of electricity when your lips touched. Immediately, something in him changed. He quickly lost his cool and began to devour your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth the moment your lips parted. You could taste the chocolate on his tongue and your pulse ratcheted up.
Your pussy throbbed when he let out a soft groan and you couldnât stop your hands from moving to his chest. You deftly unbuttoned his shirt as his hands untucked your blouse and began to lift it. The instant you pulled back, your top was tossed aside and he urged you to stand. You didnât want to move just yet, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours, but you complied quickly and a moment later he was knelt in front of you.
He pressed his forehead to your stomach as he took a steadying breath, then reached behind you to unzip your skirt. âThis fucking thing has been taunting me for ages.â He growled as the material slid down your legs, revealing your already-soaked panties.
He pressed a kiss above your belly button, followed by one right below it, then another right above your panties. âHow long?â Your voice sounded strange to you, never having been so rough in your life.
âDoesnât matter. What matters right now is that I get a taste of your pretty pussy.â His gaze was heavy as his fingertips skimmed along your thighs, making your thoughts fuzzy. âMay I?â He asked, fingers finally tracing along the edges of your panties.
You nodded quickly and he didnât bother moving the material before pressing his tongue to you. The motion was meant to tease, as he quickly replaced his tongue with his nose and took a deep breath, groaning at the scent of your arousal.
Long fingers pushed your panties to the side a moment later, revealing your glistening folds to him. âShitâŠâ He hissed, his eyelids growing heavy as he zeroed in on your slick. Then his tongue was back on you, lapping at your mess. He locked eyes with you and his hands went to your ass, kneading the soft flesh there as his tongue worked you.
Seonghwa ate pussy like heâd been in the desert for days and your body was the first drop of water heâd stumbled across. Like a man starved. He was beyond enthusiastic and you were certain heâd wring you dry of orgasms before noon.
He sucked on your clit while pulling you impossibly closer and your jaw dropped, eyes fighting to stay open. âS-Seonghwa-â Your voice was a breathy moan as your hands tangled in his hair and he growled against you in appreciation, making sure you felt the vibrations.
You tugged at his hair in response and he gave a harsh suck, making your knees weak. You let out a soft curse and felt him smirk against you but couldnât be bothered to be annoyed with his cockiness. He was too damn good at what he was doing for you to think about anything else.
Your head tipped back after a few minutes, soft moans flowing freely from your lips. You were doing well at keeping quiet so as not to disturb other guests but heâd change that. He was determined to make you scream and cry for him.
A soft nip to your clit had your spine straightening and your eyes flying open. âOh fuck me-â You gasped at the pain that quickly gave way to pleasure as he soothed the sensitive bud with his tongue.
âLater, baby.â He teased before diving back in with renewed vigor, his tongue working faster as he felt you tensing under his touch. You shot him a glare but bit your lip hard when he laughed against you.
âShit-â You whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening. He groaned at the sensation and you made another small sound. He knew good and damn well what he was doing to you and you didnât want it to end, even as the knot in your belly began to unravel. âOh- âm gonna cum-â You warned and he sucked on your clit once more, harder this time.
Your toes curled with the intensity of your orgasm. Your chest heaved and your head fell back as you let out a string of subdued moans and soft curses. Even as you came down from your high, he continued to lap at you and you felt a burning sensation under your skin. You could handle several orgasms but you needed a few minutes between each one.
âHwa wait-â You whimpered. âHold on.â You gently pushed him back and he reluctantly pulled away.
âThe second I get you undressed and on that bed, my head is going back between your legs.â He warned as he stood, pulling you against him. His stiff cock strained against the confines of his pants, pressing against your belly, and you couldnât help but reach out and palm him as he tipped your head back for a kiss.
You moaned softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue as he plundered your mouth, noticing the way his cock twitched at the sound. He wasted no time in unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, lightly pinching your nipple a moment later. You squeezed him through his pants in return and he nipped at your lip as he pulled you impossibly closer.
Impatient, you broke the kiss and began to sink to your knees but he stopped you. âAnother time, baby. Let me take care of you this time, yeah?â
âButâŠâ
He leaned in so his lips were right by your ear before whispering. âAfter all our meetings are done for the day, you can do whatever you want. We can come back here and you can have me however youâd like. Howâs that sound, baby?â
You clenched around nothing, both at his words and the sound of his voice, rough with desire. âAnything I want?â He nodded. âYou donât know what youâve just signed up for.â You grinned mischievously as he righted himself and pulled you against him.
âIâm more than happy to be your toy, sweetheart.â He hummed as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties. âNow letâs get these off so I can keep playing with you.â
He slid the material down your legs and you stepped out of the flimsy cotton only to be pushed backwards onto the bed. He crawled over you with a wolfish grin, one hand caressing your side. âYou gonna let me go down on you again, pretty?â
âPlease-â You nodded, your voice coming out as a breathy moan.
âGood girl.â He cooed, already moving down the mattress. He knelt beside the bed and hooked your legs over his shoulders, eyes locked on your dripping pussy. âGod- youâre so fucking pretty, baby.â
You donât bother trying to stop his praises, too focused on the way his lips seal around your clit once more. You never wouldâve had a chance to respond even if you wanted to.
Instantly, the burn under your skin returned but in a more delicious way. Your hands tangled in his hair, guiding him this way and that. You knew you wouldnât last long since youâd already had one orgasm so you decided to fully enjoy it and tell him exactly what to do.
Of course, he had other plans. He wanted to appreciate you in ways heâd only been able to dream of before. He wanted to take his time and drown in you. You tasted like Heaven, like heâd always imagined, and he couldnât get enough.
After several moments of sucking and licking, he decided to try something else. Something he hadnât been able to do while you were standing. His tongue pressed inside you and you immediately pressed against his touch, his nose bumping your clit at the same time. âOh- Seonghwa, please-â You gasped out, pulling his hair hard.
He groaned against you at the sting and retracted his tongue only to plunge into you once more. In and out, in and out. He carried on like that for close to a minute before he retreated, tongue flicking over your clit once more. At your whine of dismay, he slid two fingers into you and curled them instantly, finding your g-spot in record time. It was as if he had studied your body for years and knew every inch of you. Heâd wanted you for so long that heâd dreamt of doing so.
His impossibly-tight pants were constricting. They were getting on his damn nerves. But he wanted you to be the one to undress him so he didnât dare try to shimmy them off. Not when he was finally able to bury his face between your legs.
You let out a loud whimper as he scissored his fingers and lapped at your cunt, your back arching off the bed. âFuck- âm close, Hwa-â You warned, thighs beginning to tremble. He was too fucking good and you were too high strung to hold back.
As you clenched around his fingers, coming undone as soon as the words left your mouth, he let out a long groan against you. You felt him shift under your legs but didnât bother trying to figure out why as you allowed wave after wave of white hot pleasure to cascade over your body, back still bowed off the bed.
He helped you through it, sucking and nipping at your clit until you were certain youâd gone up in flames. You gently pushed him away, chest heaving, and he stood between your legs. âIâm so giving you the sloppiest blowjob later.â You panted, smiling up at him as he moved over you.
âIâll look forward to it.â He grinned as he leaned down to catch your lips in a messy kiss. You reached for his pants as you kissed and made a small sound when you found a wet patch across the front.
âDid you-â
âYeah. You tasted too good and looked too perfect for me to hold back.â He admitted shamelessly as his lips trailed to your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks since you had another round of presentations you needed to look presentable for later in the afternoon.
âThereâs no reason that should be so hot.â You murmured, slipping your hand inside his soiled boxers. You didnât care if it was dirty, you needed to touch him. Lewd sounds quickly filled the room as you stroked his cock, pride swelling in your chest when he bucked into your touch.
âWait.â He stopped you even as he rocked his hips once more. âI need to be inside you. Are you still on the pill?â
âIUD.â You said as you lifted your messy hand to your mouth and began to lap up his cum.
His jaw dropped as he watched you lick your fingers clean, eyes glazing over with lust. âFucking hellâŠâ He groaned, pulling back abruptly. He wasted no time in kicking off his pants and underwear, trying to clean himself at least a little before he rejoined you on the bed. âYouâre going to be the death of me, y/n.â
âThereâs worse ways to go.â You teased, pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, tugging him closer in invitation. A string of saliva connected your lips when he pulled back, which you quickly leaned up and licked away, earning a soft curse. You leaned up once more to whisper in his ear as he lined up. âFuck away all the bad feelings, Seonghwa. You promised.â Then you gently clamped your teeth on his earlobe, reveling in the choked noise he made.
âYouâre a demon.â He hissed as he pressed in, gasping at how tight you felt. You whimpered at the stretch and tugged him closer, lip catching between your teeth. âSo fucking tight for me, baby. So perfect.â
You moaned at his words, clenching involuntarily around him. You loved the praise and he knew as much now. He finally rocked his hips and you let out a soft whine at the friction. âYouâre so bigâŠâ You moaned as you allowed yourself to fall back against the sheets, hair fanning out around your head in a halo.
Stars danced in his eyes as the sight of you beneath him. This was a religious experience and he was already in the clouds. And you were praising him? He felt like he might die if you continued to comment. Your approval was all he ever needed and to get the validation in bed too was enough to have him on edge. He was fighting hard to stay composed so was trying to distract himself with random thoughts but you were clouding his senses and he couldnât focus on anything else.
He gave a deep thrust and you let out a reedy moan, guiding his hand to your chest so heâd thumb over your nipples. Instead of simply teasing, he pinched you and your eyes rolled back. âHarder.â You demanded, unsure of what you were referring to. Did you want him to pinch your nipples harder or did you want him to fuck you harder?
He couldnât tell either but gladly did both, relishing the sound you made. âYou like that?â
âSo much.â You nodded enthusiastically. âNeed more. Please?â You pleaded, gasping when he pinched your nipple again.
âSo impatient.â He tutted. âI love it. Youâre so desperate for me that you canât wait. How cute.â He continued, his hand sliding up to your throat. âDonât worry, Iâll train you to be patient.â His smile darkened as he began to apply pressure to the sides of your throat, cutting off blood flow. His hips slowed and you whimpered but he briefly tightened his grip in warning. âBe a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?â You nodded furiously and he snapped his hips forward, knocking the air from your lungs. âGood girl.â
You werenât on this planet anymore. You werenât even in this universe. The whole ordeal was so hot that you were in your own world, focused only on the pleasure and the oddly-comforting weight of his body on top of yours.
âOpen.â He demanded suddenly and your jaw instantly fell slack. âSo obedient.â He cooed as he leaned closer before pursing his lips. Oh god is he about to do what I think? Fuck. You gripped his wrist as he spit into your mouth, a pathetic noise slipping out. âSwallow.â You did so eagerly, your entire body spasming at how hot it was. His jaw dropped at the way you suddenly clenched around him and he quickly pulled out, cumming across your thighs. âFucking hell, baby. You like it that much? Fuck.â He panted as he stroked himself through his high, groaning when you nodded and reached to rub tight circles over your clit to guide yourself through your own orgasm.
He looked stunning like that. His jaw hung slack, his eyes half-lidded from the intense pleasure. He looked fucked out. He looked so fucking beautiful. He was art.
âPlease.â You whispered breathlessly. âOne more. Need to cum one more time. Need you to cum one more time. Please?â You begged, vision whiting when he squeezed your throat again.
âSo needy, baby. Want me to fuck you so dumb you drool? Is that it?â His tone was nothing but adoring even though his words were meant to sting a bit and your heart throbbed in your chest. Was this more than fucking away tension and animosity? âFlip over. Lemme see that perfect ass.â He pulled away and you quickly complied, wiggling your ass as soon as you were in position. âGod- youâre so fucking perfect, y/n. So perfect.â He praised as he squeezed your soft flesh.
âSeonghwaâŠâ You whimpered his name as you tried to push yourself back onto his cock. âI need you so bad. Please?â
âI canât say no when you ask so nicely, baby.â He said as he lined up and pressed into you. âFuck- this pussy was made for me, pretty. Feels so fucking good.â He breathed, setting a rough pace from the start. His hips slapped against your ass as he plowed into you, driving you into the mattress.
You couldnât help but cry out when he slammed into you so hard he knocked you forward. Your knees would be so irritated from the position and the way the sheets rubbed against your skin but you couldnât care less. You simply wanted to feel him. He was all you needed at the moment.
He suddenly pulled you up from where your face was buried in the sheets and wrapped his hands around your throat for leverage. âYou take my cock so well, sweetheart. Like you were made for it. Were you made for me?â
âYes!â You gasped, jolting when he brushed your cervix. âYes, I was made to take your cock and anything you give me.â
Lewd sounds filled the air as he repeatedly slammed into you, your mess running down your thighs to mingle with his. Youâd need new sheets brought in by the time you were done. You almost felt bad for the housekeepers who would service your room later this afternoon. Almost. You couldnât feel too bad with Seonghwa balls-deep inside you.
âYouâre gonna make me cum.â He warned suddenly as he released your throat and you bit your lip hard. âWhere do you want it, baby? Iâm already so close.â
âEverywhere.â Your request was simple and it drove him over the edge. He pulled out as he came, covering your ass and thighs with his release. His breathing grew ragged as he allowed the pleasure to overwhelm him and he let out what was easily the sexiest sound youâd ever heard a man make, his voice pitching low in a way that made you clench around nothing.
Before you could reach between your legs to finish yourself off, he was back inside you and working faster than before, even as he began to get overwhelmed from the pleasure. He could feel you tensing with your impending orgasm and he wanted to be the one to send you over the edge one last time before you had to go shower again. âDonât you dare touch yourself, baby. Iâm gonna make you cum. Understood?â
You nodded quickly, thighs beginning to tremble from the sensation overtaking your body. âYes! âM so close, Hwa. Please make me cum. Please!â You begged and he immediately reached around to toy with your clit. Tears sprung into your eyes at the pleasure flooding your body and fire spread beneath your skin.
âI can feel you trembling, pretty. Why donât you just let go? Cum all over my cock, baby.â He coached and you couldnât fight it anymore. A cry ripped from your throat and tears began to roll down your cheeks as your final orgasm crashed into you. âThatâs right. Just like that.â His deep voice spurred you on as he tangled a hand in your hair, pulling just hard enough for the most delicious sting to spread out over your scalp. âGood girl.â You let out a choked sob at the name, delirious from the pleasure and gratification.
As you slowly came down from your high, he gently released your hair and smoothed his hands down your back. âYou did so well for me, sweetheart. So perfect.â You whimpered softly at the praise as you collapsed against the mattress. He slipped out of you and immediately laid beside you, still rubbing your back with one hand. âYou okay?â He asked as soon as he saw your tears. You nodded weakly, utterly spent. âWords, baby.â
âIâm okay. That was justâŠintense.â You murmured, suddenly exhausted.
âIt was.â He agreed quietly, reaching to brush your hair back from your face. After several beats of silence, during which he took his time admiring you and playing with your hair, he spoke again. âYouâre beautiful, you know.â
Your cheeks heated up and you fought the urge to hide your face. âCan I ask you something?â He nodded so you continued. âEarlier you said my skirt was driving you crazy. How long? You didnât answer me before.â
âToo long.â When you didnât respond, he let out a soft sigh and began to explain. âI always felt like shit for it but I've wanted you since day one. The moment we met, I knew I needed you. And seeing you in that damned skirt week after week drove me absolutely insane.â
âWhy would you feel like shit for that?â
âBecause we were friends. I shouldnât have wanted you the way that I did. They always say women canât have male friends because they all wanna sleep with you and I felt like I was only proving that right and risking our friendship.â
âWell if itâs any consolation, Iâve always found you insanely attractive too and have had my fair share of untoward thoughts.â You grinned and he let out a soft laugh. After a few beats of silence you spoke again. âI have another question.â
âShoot.â
âWhy the fuck did you have those chocolates on this trip in the first place?â
âWe should get cleaned up.â He hummed as he sat up, clearly not wanting to answer. He had a secretive smile on his face and you rolled your eyes.
âYouâre such a pain.â You sighed in exasperation. âJust tell me.â
âWell I hadnât anticipated being the one helping you with it but I did plan to inconvenience you a bit.â He laughed and you sat up to chuck another pillow at him.
âYouâre such an ass.â
âIâm your ass though.â Your cheeks pinked at the thought and you nodded slowly, liking the idea more than youâd anticipated.
âYeah. I guess you are.â
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your last one shot about them being actors was so fun!! do you know how vogue or gq does those how well do you know your partner video? maybe they could do it? or the reader does a vogue beauty secrets video and rafe intervenes accidentally
oooooh thatâs a great ideas anon, thank you for send in!!
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pairing: rafe cameron x actress!reader summary: vogue invites you to participate in their popular âsecret beautyâ series, where youâll share your personal beauty routine on camera. filming alone in the comfort of your home, youâre deep into your routine when your husband, rafe, accidentally interrupts the shoot. what follows is a light-hearted and playful exchange between the two of you, filled with the kind of easy affection and banter that defines your relationship. rafeâs unexpected appearance adds a layer of fun and warmth to the video, showcasing not only your beauty secrets but also the loving dynamic between you and rafe. warning: english is not my native language. fluff au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. a sequel to âlove, fame and the futureâ but can be read as a stand alone one-shot. taglist
Afternoon sun streamed through the windows of your living room, casting a warm glow over the sleek, modern dĂ©cor that you and Rafe had carefully chosen together. The space was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional distant chirp of birds outside. You were alone-well, almost alone-getting ready to film a special âSecret Beautyâ video for Vogue.
Youâd been thrilled when the invitation came through. As an actor, you were used to being in front of the camera, but this was different. This was personal, an opportunity to share a side of yourself that fans rarely got to see. And doing it in the comfort of the home you shared with Rafe made it even more special.
The crew had sent over the necessary equipment the day before, but youâd opted to set everything up yourself. It felt more intimate that way, just you and the camera. Youâd arranged a small vanity area in the corner of the living room, where the light was best. Your collection of beauty products, everything from skincare to makeup was neatly laid out in front of you.
You did a quick check to make sure the camera was positioned correctly, framing the scene just as you wanted. Satisfied, you hit record, flashing a bright smile at the lens.
âHi, everyone! Iâm Y/n Cameron, and welcome to my Vogue Secret Beauty video. Today, Iâm going to be sharing my everyday beauty routine with you all. This is what I do to keep my skin looking fresh and my makeup natural, especially when Iâm off set or just hanging out at home.â
You reached for the first product on your vanity, a gentle cleanser. âSo, I always start with a good cleanse. Itâs really important to make sure your skin is clean before you do anything else. Iâve been using this cleanser for a while now, itâs super gentle and doesnât dry out my skin.â
As you explained, you began applying the cleanser, massaging it into your skin with gentle, circular motions. âI usually spend about a minute doing this, making sure I get every part of my face.â
Once you were satisfied, you reached for a soft towel, patting your face dry. âNext up is toner. This oneâs great because it helps balance my skinâs pH and preps it for the rest of my routine. I just put a few drops on a cotton pad and gently sweep it across my face.â
You demonstrated, moving the cotton pad across your skin with care. âItâs really refreshing and makes my skin feel super smooth.â
You paused, letting the toner absorb, and then reached for your favorite serum. âOkay, so this is one of my must-haves. Itâs a vitamin C serum that brightens my skin and helps with any dark spots. I just take a few drops and press it into my skin, focusing on areas that need a little extra love.â
As you applied the serum, you glanced at the camera, flashing a playful smile. âRafe actually loves this stuff too, even though he wonât admit it.â
You laughed softly at the thought, your mind wandering to your husband. He was out at the moment, running some errands, but you knew heâd be back soon. Knowing Rafe, there was a good chance heâd come back while you were still filming, which could make for an interesting and probably hilarious outtake.
âAlright, now that the serum is on, Iâm going to follow up with my moisturizer,â you continued, reaching for the jar. âThis is super important, especially after applying a serum. It locks in all that goodness and keeps your skin hydrated.â
You scooped out a small amount of the moisturizer and began applying it in gentle upward strokes. âI like to use something lightweight during the day, so it doesnât feel too heavy under makeup.â
You were just finishing up with the moisturizer when you heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized Rafe must be back. You kept filming, wondering if heâd notice you were in the middle of something.
Just as you were about to reach for your eye cream, you heard his voice from the hallway. âBabe? Iâm back! You wonât believe the traffic out thereââ
He appeared in the doorway, stopping short when he saw the camera. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then a slow grin spread across his face.
âAm I interrupting something?â Rafe asked, clearly amused.
You couldnât help but laugh, turning to face him. âJust a little. Iâm filming my Vogue beauty routine.â
Rafeâs grin widened as he walked over, leaning against the doorframe. âOh, so this is the famous âSecret Beautyâ routine? Iâve been dying to know what goes into it.â
âReally?â you teased, raising an eyebrow. âYou already know most of it. Youâve borrowed half these products at some point.â
He chuckled, moving closer to inspect the array of products on the vanity. âI might have. Youâve got good taste, what can I say?â
You shook your head, still smiling. âWell, since youâre here, do you want to help me with the rest of it? The viewers might enjoy a little guest appearance.â
Rafe looked at the camera, then back at you, feigning a thoughtful expression. âHmm, I donât know. Do I have to do anything?â
âNot really,â you said, reaching for your eye cream. âJust look pretty and maybe pass me a couple of things.â
He laughed at that, pulling up a chair next to you. âAlright, I think I can manage that.â
You grinned at the camera, happy to have Rafe by your side. âSo, where were we? Oh, right-eye cream. This is essential, especially on days when I havenât had enough sleep. Just a tiny bit under each eye to help with puffiness and dark circles.â
You dabbed the cream under your eyes as you explained. Rafe watched with interest, occasionally glancing at the camera as if to check if he was doing it right.
âAnd now,â you said, setting the eye cream down, âweâre moving on to the makeup. I like to keep it light and natural, especially when Iâm just hanging out at home.â
Rafe reached for the foundation, holding it up like a game show host presenting a prize. âThis is the one, right?â
You laughed, taking it from him. âYep, thatâs the one. Itâs really lightweight and gives just enough coverage without feeling heavy.â
As you applied the foundation, Rafe watched, leaning in occasionally to make funny faces at the camera behind your back, which you noticed only through the cameraâs reflection. You rolled your eyes, but couldnât help laughing.
âOkay, now for some concealer,â you said, reaching for the small tube. âThis just goes on any spots that need a little extra coverage.â
Rafe nodded sagely, as if he were learning some deep, important secret. âYou know, Iâve got a spot right here,â he said, pointing to a non-existent blemish on his cheek.
You playfully pushed him away. âVery funny.â
âHey, Iâm just trying to learn,â he protested with a grin.
âSure you are,â you said, blending in the concealer. âAlright, now for a bit of bronzer to warm up the face.â
Rafe picked up the bronzer and handed it to you with a flourish. âYour bronzer, madam.â
You accepted it with a mock curtsey. âThank you, kind sir.â
As you dusted the bronzer along your cheekbones and forehead, Rafe looked on, clearly entertained. You could tell he was enjoying himself, which made you even more relaxed and playful.
âNext, some blush for a bit of color,â you said, swirling the brush in the blush compact. âJust a little on the apples of the cheeks.â
Rafe tilted his head, studying your technique. âLooks good. You missed a spot, though.â
You paused, mid-swipe, giving him a look. âReally?â
He leaned in, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. âRight⊠here.â
His touch was soft, and you felt your breath hitch slightly, caught off guard by the sudden tenderness. He pulled back with a satisfied smile, leaving you a little flustered, but in a good way.
âThanks,â you managed, giving him a playful shove. âNow, letâs finish up with some mascara and a bit of lip balm.â
Rafe picked up the mascara, twirling it between his fingers before handing it to you. âBe careful with this one. Itâs dangerous.â
You laughed, carefully applying the mascara to your lashes. âIâll try not to poke my eye out.â
Once your makeup was finished, you reached for your lip balm, applying a quick swipe across your lips. âAnd thatâs it! My secret beauty routine are simple, natural, and easy enough that even Rafe could do it.â
Rafe, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, feigned mock offense. âHey, I might just take that as a challenge. Next time, Iâll show you how itâs really done.â
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. âOh, really? Iâd love to see that.â
He smirked, leaning closer to the camera as if sharing a secret. âMaybe we should film a âRafe Cameron Beauty Routineâ next. Show everyone how I maintain this rugged charm.â
You couldnât help but laugh at the idea, shaking your head. âIâm sure your fans would love that. You know, maybe we should actually do it. Could be fun.â
Rafeâs eyes lit up at the thought, clearly entertained by the idea. âYouâre on. But you have to be my assistant. I canât possibly do it alone.â
You grinned, nudging him playfully. âDeal. But only if you promise not to turn it into a comedy routine.â
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. âNo promises, but Iâll try to keep it professional.â
The two of you shared a quiet moment, your laughter fading into comfortable silence as you sat together, Rafeâs arm warm around you. The camera was still recording, capturing the easy affection between you, something that came naturally, whether the cameras were on or not.
Finally, you turned back to the camera, giving the viewers a warm smile. âWell, I think thatâs a wrap for today. Thanks so much for joining me on this little behind-the-scenes look at my beauty routine. I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.â
Rafe chimed in, his tone playful. âAnd remember, if you want a real beauty routine, stay tuned for the Rafe Cameron edition.â
You laughed, playfully shoving him again before waving at the camera. âThanks for watching, everyone! See you next time!â
With that, you reached over and hit the stop button, ending the recording. The red light on the camera blinked off, signaling the end of the shoot. You leaned back in your chair, feeling a sense of accomplishment and a bit of relief that it had all gone smoothly, well, almost.
Rafe stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied grin. âNot bad, Mrs. Cameron. Youâre a natural in front of the camera.â
You smiled up at him, feeling a warm flush at the way he called you by your married name. âWell, Iâve had a bit of practice. But I think you might have stolen the show.â
He chuckled, reaching down to pull you up from your chair. âHey, Iâm just here to support my wife. And maybe sneak in a little screen time.â
You rolled your eyes affectionately, letting him pull you into a hug. âYou know, you actually made it a lot more fun. Iâm glad you interrupted.â
Rafeâs smile softened as he looked down at you, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. âYeah? Iâm glad too. Itâs nice to be part of these little moments with you.â
You rested your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. âMe too. I wouldnât want to do this with anyone else.â
For a few moments, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each otherâs arms, the world outside your home feeling miles away. It was in these quiet moments that you were reminded of just how lucky you were to have found someone who understood you so completely, who made every moment, whether big or small does feel special.
Rafe finally broke the silence, his voice soft and teasing. âSo, how about we celebrate our first Vogue feature with some takeout and a movie? Maybe we can critique my on-camera skills.â
You laughed, pulling back to look up at him. âThat sounds perfect. But I think you might just be a natural.â
He grinned, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. âOnly because I have the best partner.â
With that, the two of you started to clean up the vanity, chatting and joking as you put away the beauty products. The light in the room was starting to fade as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.
As you worked together, you couldnât help but feel a deep sense of contentment. This was your life now, a life full of love, laughter, and the kind of everyday moments that made everything else worthwhile. And as long as you had Rafe by your side, you knew that every day would be an adventure, filled with more joy than you ever thought possible.
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Hiiii! May i request training/working out/ sparring (idkđ) with logan and it ends up with us dry humping or something pretty please will all the cherries :)
indulgent desires | logan howlett
pairing: boyfriend!logan x afab!reader
AN: omg your mind... i know for a fact that logan is an absolute menace when it comes to working out. like have you seen his arms? i need to be squished to death by his biceps. they're just so!!! omg!!! you know that man loves hitting his arms.
written with xmen/x2 logan in mind, but honestly can be applied to any other ver. of him! (for once i'm not writing with old man!logan in mind? am i really me?)
content/tags: minors DNI (18+ only), dry humping, pet names (babygirl, princess, etc.), porn with a little bit of plot, cum tasting/eating/facial, hair pulling, teasing
logan practically spends every day at the gym. he always prided himself on his physique, not just for self-fulfilling reasons, but for the mere fact that he knows that his body riles you up.
he can tell when you would "sneak" glances at him, especially when he gets a pump right after his workouts. the way his muscles swelled after working out made you lust for him harder.
you could tell he hit his arms today; his biceps were more defined than usual, with your eyes tracing a thick vein that flows down his forearm. "you like what you see, princess?" he teases, flexing his arm as you continue to stare.
you blink hard and shake your head embarrassingly fast. "whatever, logan!" you shout, continuing whatever workout you were doing, losing track of how many reps you did.
you would tag along with him every so often, but only because he would take hours at a time at the gym. sure, you liked going to the gym, you had to stay fit somehow, but you lacked the stamina logan had; the frequency and duration of his gym sessions were unbearable for a poor little thing like you.
and logan acknowledged this, as he would often end his sessions a bit shorter so the two of you could go home sooner. you felt like a bother, and the last thing you wanted to do was interfere with his workouts.
"fuuuuck, im tired," you exhale, leaning forward, hands gripping at your knees as you try to catch your breath. pushing through your last set of bulgarian split squats had you absolutely winded. logan placed his firm hand on the small of your back, gently rubbing circles against your skin.
"let's go home, bub" he lulled, passing you his water bottle to drink from. nodding at him, you take a long swig, and the ice cold water rejuvenates your body. "let's..." you eagerly reply.
you couldn't bare being separated from him, lounging away at home any longer, so one day, you took matters into your own hands.
eventually you had the idea to buy at-home gym equipment; it was pricy to say the least, but it didn't matter to you, for as long as logan was home.
from the comfort of your own apartment, you had the view of logan all to yourself. whenever he worked out, he wore his plain white wife beater along with a random rugged pair of gym shorts he rotated through.
you'd wake up to his grunts early in the morning, getting up at first light to use the machines splayed out in your living room. the domesticity of it all made it so the early mornings never bothered you, as well as the occasional tsss or oomph he'd let out as he finished a rep.
and just like before, you'd join him. you had bought a yoga mat to do your stretches before your workout. even got one for logan, but he keenly insists on using yours.
this morning you had spot him on seated on the mat, legs stretched out. he splayed his torso out between his thighs, letting out a grunt as he felt his muscles pull as he reached forward.
a yawn leaves his mouth as he returns to an upright position. he glances over to his right to spot you sitting at the dining table, sipping from your mug, eyes focused on him.
when finished with his usual routine, he follows up with a couple of stretches afterwards to cooldown. his arms were thicker, more defined than usual. arms, you thought to yourself. he hit his arms, again.
âmorning, sweetheart,â he chirps as a lazy grin slowly wipes across his face. he reaches his hand out, signaling for you to come over.
and so you do, sitting alongside him on the mat, slotting yourself between his legs. you rest your hands on his thick shoulders, tugging at the straps of his tank top.
he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. âstretch with me, darlin,â he hums against your temple.
âiâd rather watch you,â you reply, playfully pushing him away. youâre about to return to your spot at the dining table before he snakes his arms around your waist, holding you in place.
âno, no, we gotta get you movinâ, doll.â and oh how logan has a way of convincing you. just a simple pet name, and heâs got you wrapped around his finger.
he taps your hips, motioning for you to turn around, and you oblige. with a swift movement, your back is now pressed against his chest, your legs encaged by his own.
you could already feel that his dick was hard, which wasnât too much of a surprise. logan had morning wood pretty frequently, and would often work out to relieve it, as he felt guilty if he were to wake you up so early in the morning.
but this time, it was different. watching you prance around the kitchen in those shorts that barely cover your ass, wearing a skin tight camisole that put your hardened nipples on display. how could he not get hardâor rather, not keep his hard-on for a pretty little thing like you?
logan rests his head on your shoulder, leaning close to your ear. âcâmon, get started already.â he whispers, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.
and so you mimic the stretch he was doing earlier. you lean forwards, making your ass push into his crotch. the pads of his rough fingertips remain at your waist, gripping at your skin to bring you closer. you continue to lean forwards, and your back is now parallel with your legs on the mat.
his hands creep their way to the small of your back. âthere you go, doll. just like that,â he lulls, tracing delicate circles where your back arches. logan shifts in place, now kneeling behind you as you remain spread out for him on the floor.
you attempt to rise from your position to sit upright, but a firm hand is planted on your back, keeping you in place. "y'look so pretty for me like this," logan teases, his calloused palm now slipping underneath your tank top.
his hands run up to caress your shoulder blades, pushing the straps of your tank top down swiftly. your tits were now exposed to the crisp, cool air, your nubs now even harder than before.
âloganâŠâ you whine as his left hand keeps you in place, while the other roams to paw at your tits. you continue to moan out his name while he works at you, paying sweet attention to the way your breath hitches as he gently tugs at your swollen nubs.
âcouldnât help it darlinâ,â he lulls, âhow can i ignore a pretty little thing like you?â his hands move their way from your breasts to your hips. tugging at your legs, he manhandles you so youâre now prone on the yoga mat.
logan is still seated beside you, calloused hand now working at the globes of your ass, jiggling one your cheeks in the thick palm of his hands. âyou got me so fuckinâ hard, babyâŠâ he hisses, his free hand palming his erection through his shorts.
he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the flesh of your ass, admiring how pretty you look spread for him. his face lingers for a second as he catches a whiff of your arousal pooling in your cunt.
âcan smell how bad you need me, doll.â logan utters under his breath. âdonât worry, iâm gonna fill you right upâŠâ you lazily turn your head around to catch a glimpse of the smirk forming on his face, and you flash him a coquettish smile of your own.
âass up, princess,â he commands, pushing on the small of your back. and you obey, arching your back so that your ass is presented to him, your lacy panties peeking through your shorts.
âfuck.â he coos, molding your ass in the palm of his hand. logan is tempted to pop his claws out to rip the fabric, but the last time he did, you complained about him ruining your favorite pair of sleep shorts, so he refrains from doing so.
so he decides on something else. pushing his shorts down, logan remains in his boxers, his oh-so needy cock forming a tent in the tight fabric.
you feel him shifting around you, seating himself so heâs on his knees, his cock parallel to your ass. you try to push back to feel any friction against your needy cunt, but he keeps a firm grip on your hips, keeping you still.
âplease, need you so bad,â you whine, attempting to wiggle your way out of his grip, but knowing him, knowing his strength, itâs useless to even try.
âyouâre gonna have to wait for it, sweetheart,â he says cockily, pressing his pelvis against your clothed cunt, and the both of you hiss out in pain.
logan began to rut his cock against you at a steady pace, angling his hips to that the tip of his cock just about grazed over your clit.
âstop teasinâ,â you purr, arching your back to try and get any more friction, but itâs no use. logan reaches over and presses your head into the yoga mat, your cheek squished against the foam.
âyou get what i give you, princess.â he grunts, pushing your head further into the mat as his hips move faster, pressing harder into your ass. âgonna use you first, then iâll stuff you with my cock.â
his hips sputter as he feels the way you bounce your ass against him, your bodies moving in sync, his thrusts matching the way you rut back into him. âfuck, you got me worked up doll, prancing around the house like thatâŠâ
you couldnât respond to his words, only grunt in response. the pressure building in your core was too much, making your mind hazy. all you managed to let out was a little mmh.
âwalkinâ around with your tits on display, actinâ all innocent,â he drones on, continuing to pound his hips against yours. he fists a section of your hair, tugging harshly so your face now meets his.
âthe things you do to me, dollâŠâ logan mutters, leaning over to give you a hungry kiss. your entangled your tongues sloppily, moaning into each others mouths.
he pulls away from the kiss hastily, and a thin strand of your saliva mixed with his pools from your bottom lip. you look fucked out already, and heâs only been dry humping you.
âdirty little thing,â logan teases, pressing a finger against your clothed cunt as he continues his thrusts. you feel yourself getting close, your panties were drenched with your own arousal.
the way your ass rippled with every thrust of his hips, combined with how wet you were getting from this sent logan into a spiral.
his movements became more erratic, his strained dick begging to be released from the confines of his boxers. he began to rub tight circles on your clit, pushing you further to your limit.
âgonna come soon, baby,â he grunts out, and you moan in response. âwhere do you want me, darlinâ?â
spit dribbles out of your mouth as he continues his relentless attack on your ass, his hips pistoning as fast as he could manage. âo-on my faceâŠâ you barely manage to whimper out
and so his thrusts pause, and he manhandles you, now flipping you onto your back. he hastily pushes his boxers down, his cock springing back in protest against his stomach.
your mouth waters at the sight of his thick cock, his hands pumping him at a rapid pace, precum leaking all over his abs.
he hovers himself over your face, his knees caging your head. as he angled his cock at your mouth, he continued fisting himself vigorously. âgonna take my cum like a good girl?â he asks, raising his eyebrow. you nod your head yes, but this isnât enough for logan.
âwords, princess.â he quips, feeling himself close to his release.
ââm gonna take it like a good girl, i promise loâ you whine, locking your eyes with his, your pupils blown with lust.
ââatta girlâŠâ
and after a couple more pumps of his dick, thick ropes of his cum coat your face. heâs spurting out more than you imaginedâhe was really fucking pent up. who wouldâve thought that a sweet little thing like you had that much of an effect on him?
after he milked himself of all of his cum, he rolls over to your side. he glances over at you and wipes the mess off near your eyes. you chuckle a bit, licking off the cum that got on your lips.
you lean over and pull logan into a short kiss, allowing him to taste himself on your lips. âfuckinâ hell,â he whispers, his hot breath tickling your nose. he sits up, looking around the kitchen for a spare towel to clean you up.
âsoo⊠does this count as our warm up for today?â you ask cheekily, propping yourself up on your elbow as you watch him pace around the kitchen.
âshut up, kidâŠâ logan replies, groaning at your attempt joke.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wolverine x you#drabble#logan howlett x you#logan howlett headcannons#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett smut#wolverine headcanons#the wolverine#wolverine smut#logan x reader#logan wolverine#wolverine fanfiction#xmen#xmen movies
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why you should get off social media if you want to shift.
before you scroll away, i want to challenge all of you to read all of this. this is one of my longest blog posts ive ever made with over 1,000 words. if you can or canât make it through the whole post, please let me know how far youâve gotten in the comments below. youâll get a surprise at the end đ„ł !
social media isnât an inherently bad thing. however, outside & inside of the shifting community social media (specially tiktok) has been shown to effect our attention span. this shows in my comment sections on my longer tumblr posts that i also share on tiktok, such as this one, when people say things like âim not reading all of thatâ or âcan someone summarizeâ also âwhat method should i useâ and âwhy am i not shiftingâ.
letâs start with the basics of shifting. shifting attempts need some kind of focus; an affirmation, a visualization, some sort of task like counting. if youâre someone who struggles to focus, you will struggle to learn how to meditate or any hobby or task youâre tying to accomplish. all shifting methods are is a meditation. while no, you donât need a method, I would make the argument learning how to meditate & focus your attention to what you are trying to manifest is an important part of shifting. if social media creates an instant dopamine reward without little effort, the appeal of shifting seems less. this is why i think a lot of people actually like thinking about shifting & creating content for it rather then doing it â because trying to shift requires some level of work without instant reward even if itâs as simple as laying down & setting intention.
if you try to shift & you wake up in your cr still, that isnât as exciting when comparing it to the idea of shifting. rather, if you post an edit or a video about your dr you will receive a dopamine hit through video interaction (comments, likes, how social media platforms are set up in general). even maladaptive daydreaming can fall into this category to some. the interest in attempting to shift dies because we feel like we arenât gaining anything from it when thatâs not true. when laying down & attempting to shift, we are meditating & training the brain to focus on what we desire most: weâre correcting our attention span.
social media destroys the ability to focus & what we focus on & give our attention to allows room for that desire to grow, to become reality. if weâre always so overwhelmed with information & have so much to stress about, itâs important to recognize what we consume & how it effects our mood & mental health & how it can sometimes delay our manifestations. im not saying you have to be positive all the time, but weâre exposed to so much that itâs important to check in with yourself every once in a while. this can be where shifting content comes into play vs non shifting content. think demotivation, you donât look for it, it just appears. & how many times have you opened tiktok to look something up to only be distracted by a completely unrelated video that automatically started playing ?
what i mean is people are telling you what shifting is, what works for them (which you could register subconsciously & believe thatâs a step by step guide), rather then self discovery. people are telling you what shifting is, how to do it, what to think, what to script, what method you need to do, even if they say âthis may not apply to everyoneâ because of how itâs being presented & spoken about. the said popularity of a method or definition may also come into play & feeling like something has to be right or work because other people align with it. its like math class, the teacher shows you one way to solve a problem then says âyour allowed to use your own methodsâ & shows you one example of it then goes back to using the original method in class that you donât understand.
another reason is opinions. when being shown so many people speaking on shifting & their thoughts it can be overwhelming. itâs a great thing so many people are willing to talk about their experiences in their desired reality or want to share their personal breakthroughs & opinions on what shifting is, it can be confusing. while everything i just listed is well intended, leaning about shifting through places like tiktok & not venturing out & doing your own research â or just searching methods online & trying it yourself while going in blind â it takes away self discovery.
so, how do we learn about shifting ?
when i say get off of social media, i donât exactly mean all social media. yes, all of these things happen across the internet but the difference with tiktok is that the fyp isnât so prominent. this of course also applies to other feeds that are generated, but a lot of the shifting community is ok tiktok so im using the most known example. itâs important to search & decide what information you consume & seek out rather then being told something without stopping to think for yourself. you want the chance to be able to create your own thoughts. your own unique thoughts you have about things make them personal & your own beliefs become stronger when you realize things on your own. itâs more satisfying that way.
places like reddit & searching for questions you specifically have so you donât have ten more questions shoved in your that you didnât have before that cause you added worry or unnecessary fear is helpful to keep in mind.
there is room for grey area. not everything needs to be black & white. there should be no consciousness vs multiverse theories because two things can both be true at once. Ike thing doesnât have to be against something, you donât have time pick a side. itâs all theory & hypothetical. itâs okay that we 100% donât know (& will probably never know) what shifting truly is. not everything needs to be discovered to preform it âcorrectlyâ. you donât need to be a master at painting to paint, you donât need to know how paint brushes are crafted or how canvas is stretched to preform, anyone can sit & learn as they create their first & second & tenth piece. even people who have painted & sold their artwork for millions, donât know the greatâs techniques. they know pieces of them & take what works & discards what doesnât serve them.
this post isnt to negate any of the good social media has done or sound like my mom & preaching about how social media destroys your brainâŠbut i think we should be mindful of what we consume & how it makes us feel & if weâre speaking for ourselves or parroting others words. there are so many great people & advice out there & im not trying to take away from that. i just think taking a moment to stop & digest what weâre seeing is healthy. this blog post has been a long time coming but i know a lot of people wouldnât want to hear it. i can promise you, you are more addicted then you think â myself included. i just donât wake you guys to look back in 10 years & have spent more then half of that looking at a screen when thereâs so much life to be lived. i donât want social media to take away from what we are all here for which when we come down to it is living. shifting is literally wanting to experience life & i canât help but find it ironic that this is the opposite of everything we wish to accomplish through this practice.
please take care of yourselves. much love.
surprise :) congrats you made it ! hereâs your digital slice of cake ! đ°
#desired reality#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifting#shiftok#shifting motivation#shifting realities#shifter#reality shifter
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Made myself emotional over the âLeo and Donnie chose to be twinsâ headcanon.
âââ
âBy the way, itâs Leo and Donnieâs birthday next Thursday. Youâre coming, right?â
Draxum looked up from his work organizing next weekâs lunch schedule to look at Michelangelo, sitting on the counter and swinging his feet. Celebrating individual birthdays wasnât a thing that the yokai did, but Draxum had been forced to accept that the boys could not be dissuaded from this human tradition. Heâd been to two birthday parties now, for Michelangelo and Raphael respectively, eating cake and presenting them with some small trinket he purchased.
Heâd known that he would have to go to more birthday parties at some point. But he wasnât expecting two at once.
âWhy on the same day? I canât imagine the blue one wanting to share.â Actually, he couldnât imagine Donatello wanting to share, either.
âOh,â said Michelangelo with a laugh. âThatâs âcause theyâre twins!â
Draxum stared at him. âTwins? What kind of nonsense is that?â
Mikey tilted his head. âWhat do you mean?â
âTheyâre entirely different species, for starters,â Draxum pointed out.
âI mean, we all are, but weâre still brothers.â
âYes, by virtue of your shared DNA donor and the circumstances of your raising.â Draxum waved that off. âBut âtwinsâ refers to a situation where two children are born at once, especially as the result of a split of a fertilized egg. Which is absolutely impossible in the case of Leonardo and Donatello. Even if I were to be charitable and simply consider them âtwinsâ for having the same hatch day, I can tell you they do not.â
âUh, okay,â said Michelangelo, unimpressed. âBut theyâve always been twins, so I donât think it matters to them.â
âWhy not? I would think it would matter to Donatello especially, since he claims to be scientifically minded.â
Michelangelo laughed. âNot everything is about science, Barry. Not even to Donnie.â
âThen his decisions about when to apply science and when not to are inconsistent and confusing.â
âWell, itâs their birthday, so they get to pick.â
âI am certain that is not how birthdays work.â
âItâs how it works for us!â Michelangelo slipped off the counter. âWeâll see you on Thursday, right? Itâll mean a lot to them if you come!â
Draxum was fairly sure Leonardo in particular would prefer he didnât, but that didnât matter. Now he had a mission: he had to correct this strange incongruence.
âYes, I will be there.â
âYay!â cheered Michelangelo. âOkay, see ya Dad!â
He squeezed Draxum around the waist on his way out. Draxum was finding he didnât mind that as much as he used to.
âââ
Leonardo and Donatelloâs party was just as loud and obnoxious as the other two. Blue and purple decorations covered every inch of the old subway station, strange music blared from unseen speakers, and a horrendous amount of junk food was spread out over a table. It was the same group of people present today as there ever was, the eclectic mix of humans and yokai that the boys considered family, but it felt like a crowd three times the size with the amount of noise being made.
Draxum stood off on his own for most of it, his slim birthday present already delivered to the table stacked with gifts. Heâd been a little shocked when Donatello and then Leonardo came by to say hello, since heâd been prepared to be ignored by both of them. It was⊠nice, maybe, that they did that. Even if Leonardo just wanted to make jokes at his expense.
For most of the party, the two birthday boys seemed to be competing with each other for attention. In fact, the longer he took it all in, the whole affair seemed like a clash of ideas. The purple decorations were neat and tidy, geometric patterns and hard angles. The blue decorations were whimsical, uncoordinated, and haphazard, and there were places it seemed someone had deliberately covered up some of the purple with the blue. Leonardo wanted to play rock music and Donatello wanted to play techno. The cake was a mess because theyâd both requested different themes for the decorations. There were arguments between the two of them every few minutes, and according to the human girl April this was âtypical behavior.â
But why? They werenât really twins. They didnât have to share this day.
Hopefully Draxumâs plan would fix all this nonsense.
When it was time for gifts, Leonardo loudly declared that he was going first, sparking an argument. They squabbled for a bit before agreeing to play rock-paper-scissors, which was apparently what they did every year.
Leonardo won the game and celebrated obnoxiously while Donatello scowled at him. Then he gestured at the gift table - which Draxum, in his efforts to stay out of the main throng, was closest to.
âHey, Barry! Grab me a gift! Make it a good one.â
Draxum sighed but reached over to take one of the blue packages, checking the tag to make sure it was for Leonardo. âThis one is⊠to Leo from Donnie,â he read.
âOh no, not that one. Our presents to each other are always last.â
âBecause they always get sappy about it,â said April with a laugh.
âDo not!â yelled Leonardo at the same time Donatello hissed, âYou take that back!â
âUh, yeah you do, and you know Iâm right.â
Draxum ignored the petty argument to look back at the gift table. If they werenât going to be satisfied with his choice, he might as well give them his own gift.
He lifted it, in its sensible brown packaging, off the table and handed it over.
âWhy not start with this? Itâs to both of you from me.â
âBoth of us at once?â asked Leonardo. âOh man, youâre throwing off our whole system, Barry.â
âYes, but heâs giving it to you,â Donatello pointed out, âwhich means my turn is still next.â
âUh, no, if itâs for both of us then it counts for both of us, which means it comes back around to me!â
âOoooh no, you do not get to loophole your way into opening two presents in a row-â
âAhem!â Draxum loudly cleared his throat, getting their attention. âWould you please just open it?â
âYikes,â said Leonardo. âTouchy.â
âSome people just donât understand the sanctity of opening birthday gifts,â said Donatello with a sniff. But he leaned in to watch as Leonardo tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box.
They were both silent for a moment, staring at it. Then Leonardo said, âUh, no offense, Barry, but what is this?â
âItâs a⊠scientific study on how twins are formed during the gestational period,â said Donatello, pulling the paper clipped thesis from the box. âOh, there are more in here⊠Also about twins.â
âUhâŠâ Leonardo blinked at it, clearly bewildered. Well, he was always a bit slow. âThanksâŠ? I think?â
âNot that I donât appreciate the scientific literature,â said Donatello, âbut this isnât really my area of study and Leo does better with training manuals and textbooks than research papers.â He looked up at Draxum. âIs there something about this we arenât getting?â
âYes there is,â said Draxum, sweeping his hand around at the entire party. âI am here to correct your mistaken assumption that you are twins.â
The room fell silent. Donatello set the paper back in the box, staring at him. Leonardoâs brow creased in anger.
âWe are twins, though,â he said, setting the box aside like it was burning him.
âNo, you are not. There is simply no way that the two of you could be twins. It is biologically impossible.â
âYou think that Iâm so stupid I donât know that?â Donatello demanded, getting up from the chair he was sitting in. âAre you doubting my intelligence?â
âYes, if you honestly think you are twins with him, then I am.â
âUhhh, Draxum,â said Michelangelo quickly, stepping between him and the now furious Donatello, âthis was a⊠funny joke, but you can stop now-â
âThis is not a joke. I am simply explaining the facts.â
âYeah, well,â now Leonardo was on his feet, too, âthe facts are that me and Donnie are twins. Always have been, always will be.â
âYou are not,â Draxum insisted. âAnd given what I have seen here today, Iâd think youâd both be relieved, since you clearly donât enjoy being twins!â
Both boys looked like theyâd just been slapped in the face. The rest of the room had gone completely silent, like everyone was collectively holding their breath.
Donatello broke first, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched up as high as they could go. âDee!â called Leonardo, and then he was scurrying off after him. There was the sound of a heavy door slamming, then silence.
It didnât last long.
âDraxum!â roared the rat, actually getting up from his chair to get in Draxumâs face. âYou come in here and upset my boys on their own birthday!?â
âSeriously not cool, Drax,â said the human April. Cassandra shook her head in shared disappointment behind her.
Draxum pushed Lou Jitsu back, scowling at his accusers. âI was only explaining reality! This is really the ratâs fault for letting their delusion go on so long.â
âDelusion!?â
âBarry!â
âRat!?â
âOoookay,â said Raphael suddenly, stepping his way into the middle of the fray and starting to herd Draxum back toward the exit. âThatâs enough of that for now.â
âI am simply trying to explain-â
âTrust me, hoss, you wanna step away from this one,â said Raphael, and his tone was angry but surprisingly measured. âCome on.â
They retreated to the sewer tunnels outside the subway station. The smell was much worse out here, and Draxum wrinkled his nose.
âAlright.â Raphael heaved a sigh, folding his arms. âSo hereâs the deal. Mikey likes you, and I guess I kinda do too, so Iâm gonna try to help you before you completely torpedo your chances with the rest of the guys. Which, you kinda did already, but maybe we can turn it around.â
âI still donât understand why theyâre so upset,â said Draxum. âSurely it was obvious they arenât twins.â
âUh, yeah, they know they arenât twins by bio-whatever,â agreed Raphael. âThey ainât stupid.â
âHmm.â Draxum turned up his nose. âDonatello isnât stupid, maybe.â
âLeo ainât stupid, either, he just pretends like it.â Raphael pinched his brow. âListen, that isnât the point - the point is they already know they didnât come from the same egg or hatch the same day or whatever. Theyâre just twins anyway.â
âBut how? That doesnât make sense!â
Raphael sighed again. âAlright, look. Dad didnât know when we hatched, right? But we all wanted birthday parties like we saw on TV, so he let us pick.â
âYes. And for some reason Leonardo and Donatello chose the same day.â Draxum could figure that much out on his own.
Raphael nodded. âI was the biggest and oldest, and Mikey was the littlest and youngest, and Leo and Donnie were just kinda sandwiched in the middle. I think at first they just wanted a thing. Somethinâ that set them apart from me and Mikey, ya know?â
âNot really,â said Draxum. Raphael glared at him, and he sighed. âBut go on.â
âSo they picked the same birthday and called themselves twins. I think Pops just so glad they were actually getting along that he agreed to it. And I think he thought once we got to the day, and they realized they were really gonna have to share it, theyâd both demand their own day instead. I know I thought that was gonna happen.â He smiled at the memory. âBut the day came, and⊠they fussed the whole time just like they do now. Arguing about what kind of cake they wanted and who got to open their present first. But they didnât ask to split. They kept it the same day, and they kept calling each other twins and it just stuck, until we didnât question it anymore.â
ââŠThey are both stubborn,â Draxum pointed out, and Raphael laughed once.
âYeah, guess they are. But thatâs not what this is.â Raphael shrugged. âThey chose each other back then. Maybe at first it was just to have a thing, but then it became real. And every single year they keep choosing each other. Thatâs why theyâre twins.â
Choosing each other as twins⊠Draxum furrowed his brow. âItâs not normally a choice,â he pointed out finally.
âYeah, well, our family doesnât get a lot of choices, so just let âem have this one, okay?â
ââŠFine,â Draxum finally relented. âAs long as itâs noted that this is purely a social designation, and not a biological one.â
âUh, sure, whatever.â Raphael rolled his eyes. âGlad we got that cleared up, though. Think you can come back to the party and behave?â
Draxum wrinkled his nose at that phrasing, but nodded. âYes. I will not bring it up again.â
âGood!â Raphaelâs smile abruptly transitioned into something much more dangerous. âBecause if you make my little brothers upset on their birthday again, Iâll remind you what it was like when we were enemies.â
Then the smile was back. âNow letâs go in!â
He walked back to the subway station, leaving Draxum to follow on his own. Draxum couldnât help but sigh wistfully.
Raphael would have made a great general for his army.
âââ
The boys had already returned by the time Draxum got back. They were opening more gifts, and he noted they were wearing hoodies now - though they had apparently decided to swap their signature colors. They were smiling and chattering, and any hint of their earlier upset was gone.
Until Draxum stepped into their line of sight, and both of them went rigid, wary of him.
Apparently just talking to the red one was not enough. Draxum would have to do more. What a pain.
But he didnât want the boys to hate him. So he sighed and launched into it.
âI⊠am sorry. I shouldnât have said you arenât twins.â
The boys looked surprised at that; slowly, their posture loosened back up.
âAnd⊠to make up for my present, I will⊠take the two of you wherever you want to go in the Hidden City.â The next words were painful, and he ground them out. âMy treat.â
Leonardo and Donatello shifted their gaze from him to each other. They were silent, but it didnât seem like they needed to talk to have a conversation.
Then they finally looked back at Draxum, slow grins growing over both their faces.
Eerily matching, very evil grins.
âOh,â said Leonardo, happily menacing. âI think we can think of something.â
âI concur,â said Donatello in the exact same tone.
Oh, thought Draxum. Maybe they really are twins.
#dandy fanfiction#rottmnt#rise Leo#rise Donnie#rise raph#baron draxum#rise Mikey#disaster twins#I didnât proofread this haha#I love the twins being twins by choice#Donnie and Leo had a big sappy talk sorry it was off screen
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reader asking forcing. loser!miguel to tell her his desired fantasy and since sheâs feeling a bit nice that day she decides sheâll indulge it for him <3 (i feel like heâd so be into roleplay hehe ><)
nonnie ur brain.. hold on.
cw: fem/dom reader, sub!miguel <3, slight mentions of shoe play, talks of punishment and like SLIGHT exhibitionism, miguel being a simp bit whatâs new, a kiss đ€, on da sweeter side, and as per usual: definitely not proof read lol enjoy đ
a/n: i went tame for this but suggest what role play ideas u have bc miguel is DEFINITELY into that. like imagine him acting as readers maid.. in the maid outfit.. omfg.
âmiguel?â
âah! y-yes?â he answers between a moan. youâre currently sitting on your bed, miguel sitting upright facing you on your floor as you trail your heeled foot up his crotch.
âtell me something,â you start, cocking your head sideways and leaning forward to look at him a little closer. as you lean forwards your breasts spill over the the corset top you have on. you begin to use more friction with your foot, and his moans become more feverish. âwhatâs your fantasy? entertain me, iâm in a good mood tonight.â
and a good mood it was, you stumbled into your dorm at around 2 in the morning, miguel waiting patiently for you outside your door, kneeling in the empty hall just like you asked, when you texted him rather drunkenly from the club that you wanted to play with him.
miguelâs face flushes, his chocolate brown eyes hiding behind his glasses. âi- ah.. f-fuck. i donât know..â he trails off, bucking lightly into your red bottom.
âyou have one more time to lie to me before this turns into a ball busting session, dweeb,â you spit, halting your teasing and looking at him intensely. you can visually see him fold under your stare. âw-well..â
âgo on,â you encourage, slowly starting your teasing with your heel back up.
âiâve always wanted to- ah! to take someone on a dinner, all fancy. a-and in the middle of the restaurant, she starts to..â he halts, his lips tightening and his face going red.
âi said go on, miguel,â you say nonchalantly, but your heel applying pressure to miguelâs crotch. he lets out a sharp shudder and a string of curses under his breath, and then resumes.
âwhat weâre doing now.. tease me all dinner, and th-then punish me in the restroom for getting excited..â he sighs out, the pain and shame sending waves of pleasure to his pulsating clothed cock.
âyeah? punish you how? tell your mistress what you want,â he looks at you and moans, your foot increasing its speed and pressure.
âyou- youâd make me beg to cum. i- iâd beg you to- fuck. to let me touch you. let me ache to please you, to serve you mistress,â he spill out from his lips, his eyes heavy and breathing shallow from your pleasuring.
âyou really are pathetic miguel,â you laugh out. you stop teasing him and stand up, watching him look up at you from his place on the floor. you slowly saunter over to him and step each foot on either side of his legs, lowering yourself down until youâre sat on his lap, directly over his erection. you grab his hair and pull his head back, hovering your lips over his own. âbut you know what?â you whisper, looking at his red face and tousled hair. âi like it.â
you go in for a kiss, your lipstick transferring to miguelâs perfectly shaped lips as you kiss him sensually. you pull apart from the kiss and look at him once more, him sitting there utterly dazed and confused, this being your first kiss. you get up and walk to sit back on your bed, looking straight at him, a small wet patch staining his pants. âget out of my room.â
he doesnât hear from you until the following evening, a text message from you reading:
philemon at 8pm sharp. take a fucking shower and wear something other than hand me downs tonight.
#miguel oâhara drabble#miguel atsv smut#miguel o'hara#miguel oâhara smut#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel oâhara x you#sub miguel o'hara#youâve got mailđ#<nerd!miguel3
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đŁđđ§đąâđŹ đ„đđ° đšđ đđŹđŹđźđŠđ©đđąđšđ§ đ đźđąđđ
this is how to actually apply the law & this is how i personally manifest. it includes main points that i always try to share on all social media platforms. this guide will contain five steps for how to manifest. enjoy!
đ đđđđ„đ đšđ đđšđ§đđđ§đđŹ
đ. know the 3d is neutral
đđ. identify as the inner self
đđđ. be the desired version of you in imagination
đđ. fulfill
đ. its done
đ đĄđšđ° đđš đŠđđ§đąđđđŹđ
once you've decided what it is you want...
đ. know the 3d is neutral: everything in the 3d has no original meaning, it is always you who assigns it meaning; this is why you are the operant power. you always choose what everything means so stop labeling things as âcircumstancesâ when theres nothing against you, until you give it power by assigning it w meaning. everything in the 3d includes circumstances, thoughts, emotions, doubts, time, everything. all of it has no original meaning. knowing this means that theres nothing to fear and absolutely everything is under your control. as the only source of power, why would you worry about âwill this thought manifest?â or âhow can i get over this hard circumstance?â when you decide everythingâs meaning? no circumstance has power over you, no anxiety has power over you, and this can help you feel more free to make it easier to accept that you really do already have what you want. you cannot be a victim in a reality that has no original meaning. its your choice to identify with any thought or feeling, meaning you have control.
đđ. identify as the inner self: yes the human body experiences this 3d. but this human body and five senses are very limited. think about it: if you want to manifest an sp, you cant see your sp's thoughts or if you want to be rich, you cant see money getting transferred into your account, or fat cells burning to give you your desired body. you are also imagination playing the role of this human body and life. so you yourself is limitless, imagining what we label as "limits". imagination = the inner self. you are the inner self who is always present because you are always manifesting and its the inner self (imagination) who manifests. you are always the inner self but when you identify with your human limits you give power to those imaginary limits such as ânegative thoughtsâ and âcircumstancesâ while on the other hand, identifying as the inner self means knowing those limits dont exist. thats why its important to identify as the inner self (you can call it god) who is simply experiencing a human life and has the power to change any aspect of that life. to identify as the inner self, just know you are the inner self and you should never be limited to the human self. if you find yourself searching for shit in the 3d, thats a sign of identifying as the human self. experience what you want as the inner self in imagination to be free. to the inner self everything is instant: when you imagine something it is happening in the now, not past or future. everything is in the present. as the inner self, you remove the idea of a 3d. there is no human self or 3d now, just focus on limitless imagination.
đđđ. be the desired version of you in imagination: now that you know you are the inner self, be the desired version of you in imagination. this means imagine using any techniques you want. if you want to be rich, you visualize, affirm, script. use inner convos or sats (and other techniques) to imagine already being the rich version of you. once you imagine it you have already experienced it so it really is done. you also dont have to use a technique, you can simply decide you already have what you want but i personally recommend using a technique at least once. let me give you an example: nelly wants to manifest being rich so she chooses to visualize a scene where she is taking lots of money from the bank to imply that shes rich.
đđ. fulfill: whatever you imagine doesnt matter. what matters is how it makes you feel. for example, it doesnt matter if nelly visualized the bank scene or if she affirmed shes rich because techniques dont do anything besides bring you to a fulfilled state. so when to fulfill yourself, imagine whatever you want that provides you a feeling of satisfaction by using whatever techniques you are comfortable with. keep repeating the scene or affirmation or technique until you successfully feel satisfied. you may be able to feel this fulfillment while doing it once or multiple times. you may be able to feel fulfillment in a few days or in one hour. the point is to generally feel good about embodying that ideal version of you. fulfillment = the feeling of knowing you are already that desired version. you reach this state of satisfaction therefore accepting that you already have what you want 100%. the more you continue to get into this fulfilled state, the more natural it becomes so its okay if you dont feel completely satisfied the first time. thats why i said repeat that scene or technique.
đ. its done: congratulations, you are what you desired. you are the one with the sp, the one with $100,000, the one living their desired life. continue being/identifying as that person in imagination aka persisting. persisting means continuously choosing to identify with the ideal version of you whenever you think about it. see the world through the eyes of the one who has to their desire already. move thro the 3d knowing it is done in imagination. this means you could continue enjoying your techniques by visualizing or thinking as the desired version of you. but also: thoughts come from your state so if you are in the state of being fulfilled with what you desire then your thoughts should naturally match that. if it doesnt, dont stress, just continue satisfying yourself in imagination. being in the state of the wish fulfilled aka feeling fulfillment helps make it easier to stick with your desired state/assumption. whenever you feel lack, fulfill yourself again and remind yourself that its already done. its already yours. theres literally nothing else to do since you experienced it in imagination, youve fulfilled yourself and feel satisfied in imagination and continue sticking with that regardless of the 3d. regardless of the 3d means you are indifferent to the 3d because you know you are the one in power above the dead 3d. you dont care about what the 3d is showing and you stay true to self because that is how you apply the law.
đ đĄđšđ° đđš đŠđđ§đąđđđŹđ đŹđźđŠđŠđđ«đČ
know the 3d is always neutral so theres no such thing as something working against you, only you give thoughts and circumstances meaning and power. know this because that proves the only source of power that exist is always you so you control everything and nothing in the 3d can tell you no
identify as the inner self, not the human self because the human self is limited while the inner self is forever free and limitless and experiences everything instantly
be the desired version of you in imagination by using any techniques you want
fulfill yourself by satisfying yourself in imagination with whatever techniques or simple decision. return to this fulfilled state / repeat using your techniques to make it natural and give you that knowing feeling
its done meaning theres nothing else to do but persist. no depending on the 3d when everything is already within you. just experience it in imagination and its done instsntly.
đ đđšđŠđŠđšđ§ đȘđźđđŹđđąđšđ§đŹ + đđ§đŹđ°đđ«đŹ
âwhat do i do if there are negative circumstances in the 3d?â
- remember that everything in the 3d is always neutral. you can claim they are negative but dont identify with these âcircumstancesâ by making and dwelling in imaginary negative stories and thoughts. you can say and do whatever you want in the 3d because it never matters (since its all neutral) so theres no need to ignore circumstances. just dont accept them as final. let the discouraged emotions and thoughts out but know you dont have to accept them as true or identify w them. there are negative circumstances. okay and? if circumstances were so hard to get past how is it possible that people still manifest while experiencing the complete opposite of their desire in the 3d? because the 3d and circumstances never matter. you are imagination which always molds the 3d so why worry about the 3d when it will change either way? remember your only job is accepting you have your desire in imagination only. you can accept you dont have shit in the 3d and continue living your normal (shitty) 3d life while still being the version of you who already has your desires in imagination. you can accept the 3d circumstances and move on. im telling you: if you were really fulfilled, you wouldnt care about 'circumstances.' gently get back into the fulfilled state when youre ready. also: you deadass have the choice to identify w the 3d or identify w already having your desire. so its all up to you.
âwhat should i do if i feel anxiety?â
- whenever i feel anxiety i observe it and let the feeling pass because i know it is always neutral therefore anxiety has no power over me. i would do meditation just to calm myself down but i would not try to force myself to feel fulfilled or do techniques. mental health comes first so relax and calm down, then you gently get back into the state of the wish fulfilled. i dont identify w negative emotions and thoughts. and if i find myself dwelling in it and imagining negative stories, i just stop myself and decide it didnt effect me (or my manifestation in any way). returning to the fulfilled state is always the answer.
âive been persisting for a long time but it still hasnt reflectedâ
- stop trying to get shit in the 3d and start being satisfied with already having it. these links might help: 1, 2, 3.
"i feel fulfilled but the next day i fall out the state"
just return to the state whenever your ready. thats all that matters. it doesnt matter what happens but how you react: are you accepting/assuming that you "ruined your manifestation" or do you just move on because you know you are still human who experiences demotivation? read these: 1, 2.
if theres anymore questions, check my masterlists for answers: tumblr, twitter.
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- actually apply the fucking law. a lot of you just ask questions and then âtryâ to apply and when one thing seems wrong, you go back to asking questions and wasting both your time and mine. persist. apply the fucking law and stop looking for outside validation.
- get tf off your phone. this is my favorite tip ever because the internet and people can rly demotivate you. delete social apps like tumblr and twitter and insta etc. you already know about the law after reading this so give up on search for more info. being independent from the media and your phone rly provides freeness and calmness. you know when you tell your mom your sick and she says something like âits that damn phoneâ? well lemme be your mother real quick and tell you âits that damn phoneâ when you complain about âthe law not workingâ. the law is always working. you just arent applying correctly to get what you want. get off the phone and find some other hobbies instead of overconsuming.
- dont use your past âfailuresâ to validate your current experience. you can do it! i know you can! its too easy but you think its hard.
- you always hold all the power so dont identify with negative thoughts and if you do, you can just decide it doesnt affect you (either way it wont unless you identify with the thought/emotion). you always have a say in every second of your life. be the god of your reality.
- remember, your only goal is changing self: you change who you are being in imagination and stick with it. if this post was not clear enough, i have a law of assumption cheat sheet on twitter for clearer info. but after this, its time to delete your apps and actually apply. im not playing.
- for the links that are from twitter: some of them are threads and you could only see it thro the twitter app to see the full thread
thank you so much for reading. i rly hope this helps people and clears things up. now delete your apps and apply! it all comes down to YOU.
kisses, jani â
#etherealkissedđ#etherealkissed#loa blog#manifesting#law of assumption#loassumption#edward art#neville goddard#desired appearance#desired self#desired life#master manifestor#manifesting it#inner man#living in the end#imagination creates reality#imagination#affirm and persist#loastates#loa assumptions#loa tumblr#loablr#manifestation
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Old Man
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary: Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: Age Gap, Cursing (13x), Sexual Innuendos, Dean talking bad about himself, Frat guys giving Y/N the disrespect she doesnât deserve Authors Note: Me and Jensen have a 17-year age gap â whatâs your age gap? | This came out A LOT longer than I expected | I donât know how to write frat guys xD | If you liked this, donât forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome âĄ
You and Dean pulled up in front of a gas station; needing to stop for gas and maybe a few snacks before the two of you continued your almost four-hour long journey back to the Bunker. You and Dean had just spent the weekend in Lawrence, due to the very rare occurrence that there were no cases. You had told Dean that even though youâd been living at the Bunker with him and Sam for the past couple of years, you had never once been to Lawrence even though you could have easily made a day trip out of it. With that being said, Dean was more than happy to take you and show you around, reminiscing about some of the things that he remembered doing all those years ago back when he was four; back before everything. But thatâs not all the trip was, you had done some other things too; like visiting the Biodiversity Institute and Natural History Museum â which was considered to be one of the best museums in the entire state of Kansas, along with Grinter Farms â who prided themselves on their sunflower photo-ops. You enjoyed both places immensely, and were happy that Dean did too, even if he wasnât initially keen on going to either place at first.
âIâm gonna grab us some snacks while you do the pump.â You said, grabbing your wallet from the glove compartment. Once you closed it and before you exited the car, you looked over at Dean, who was currently giving you the most serious look on his face. âWhat?â
âYou already know what Iâm going to say Sweetheart.â His tone sounding just as serious as his facial expression had looked.Â
âPie.â You said in unison.
âCherry or apple?â You asked, the two of you getting out of the car at the same time.
âLike you have to ask.â Dean stated, opening up the fuel cap.
âJust making sure Dean. I mean, I donât want to come out with apple when you really wanted cherry.â Your comment earned a slight chuckle from him.
âIâll be getting some cherry pie later, donât you worry.â He winked.
âI donât think that applies to me anymore.â You smirked.
âWe can always pretend.â He started fueling Baby just then.Â
âNow thatâs a roleplay idea I can get behind.â You winked at him before making your way into the store.
As soon as you walked into the store to grab some snacks for the two of you â one of which needed to be pie; a car pulled up the next pump over with a group of about four men who all appeared to be from the University of Kansas solely based on their Jayhawks apparel. âI donât know dude. Iâm pretty sure that chick was into me.â One of the men said, causing the one that he was talking to, to roll his eyes.
âNo dude. She was into me. She was giving me the old fuck me eyes. Did you not see that? Or were you too busy looking at her ass?â He laughed. It was the other guyâs turn to roll his eyes.
âCan you blame me? You could bounce a quarter off that thing.â The young man replied.
âHell yeah you could!â The other one agreed, giving each other a high five.Â
There was a part of Dean that found their conversation funny because he had remembered when he was like that; but it hadnât been for some time. Yes, there were times when he was still like that, but it was solely reserved for one woman: and that woman was you.
âCheck out that piece of ass in the store there.â Another one of the men who hadnât talked before was talking now. His comment caused Dean to turn in their direction and then back into the store. There was no other person that they could be talking about but you, as you were the only person in there besides the clerk behind the counter; and Dean was pretty sure they werenât talking about the balding clerk.
âBet sheâs a good fuck.â One of the men said. Oh you have no idea. Dean thought to himself.Â
âIâll bet you thirty bucks that I can convince her to have sex with me.â The first guy said, the one that had noticed you in the first place.
âDude, thereâs no fucking way sheâd have sex with you.â The next guy said. âLook at her! Sheâs way out of your league. Plus, even if you could pull her, where are the two of you gonna do it uh? The dirty gas station bathroom?âÂ
âSure why not? I bet she wouldnât mind it at all.â He winked. His comment caused Dean to chuckle a little to himself, knowing how wrong that guy was. You and Dean have had sex in a variety of different places, but never a gas station bathroom. âDean, as much as I love you, Iâm not fucking in a gas station bathroom. Thatâs honestly my only limitation.â You once told him. âSo, Waffle House bathroom is okay then?â He joked back, causing you to give him a playful smack on the arm from his remark.Â
âDude, sheâs not gonna give you the time of day. She needs a real man. And that ainât you.â The man started walking around to the other side of the pump and started making his way toward the store. You ainât a real man dude. Dean thought to himself. None of them were what he would call a man, only boys pretending to be.
âWatch and learn boys!â The guy said using his most charismatic voice. Dean wasnât worried at all; he knew that you would never give the guy the time of day. You two had been together for the last couple of years, and the group of quote on quote men werenât remotely your type in the slightest. Dean had seen pictures of your previous exes or have worked cases with them before. All your previous exes besides about one were all hunters; not varsity jock looking guys, and thatâs what those guys were.
âHey kid, I wouldnât if I were you.â Dean finally chimed in. At first, he wasnât even going to say anything. He had almost wanted to see the boy come back out the store with the look of utter embarrassment on his face when you had rejected him; which he knew was going to happen. But the jealous side of him won in that moment. He knew that you were more than capable of handling yourself â you were one of the best hunters heâd ever seen or worked with. Heâd seen you get hit on plenty of times either when you two went to the bar together or while working a case; but those men never seemed like threats to him. But this time, this time felt different for him.
âIâm sorry?â The guy questioned.
âI said, I wouldnât if I were you.â Dean said, his voice a bit more stern than usual.
âWhatâs it to you?â The guy asked, giving a slight snort.
âSheâs going to reject you buddy. Trust me.â Dean finished filling the car up and put the pump back in its place. âJust trying to save you the embarrassment in front of your buddies here.â
âOh yeah? Why do you say that?â The guy turned to look at you. You were currently standing at the counter laughing, probably at something the clerk had just said with two apple pie containers in your hands. Although Dean couldnât hear your laugh, the sound of it echoed in his brain. God, he loved the sound of your laugh.
âThat piece of assâ Dean began to say, hating using the words that they had used to describe you, âis my girlfriend.â Dean smirked. He had hoped that his usual tactic would work like it had done in the past. In the past, whenever Dean was with a woman; regardless if she was his girlfriend or not, the minute he said the word girlfriend to another guy that was hitting on his girlfriend, date, etc. the guy would usually back off, not wanting to get into any trouble. But his usual tactic didnât work, it had simply just made the guy laugh.
âYour girlfriend?â The man laughed again. âYeah, okay Old Man.âÂ
âOld, Old Man?â Dean was caught off guard. No one had ever really called him an old man before; the only one who ever did it was Claire, but she was the exception, because she was basically family to him.
âYeah. What are you? Like 50?â The guy behind him chimed in.
Dean turned around. â50? You think Iâm 50? Iâm 42 dude.â Yet more laughter from the men.
âClose enough.â The man that was close to the store said. At that moment Dean had saw you wave goodbye to the clerk and started to head out toward the door. The man looked at you, and then eyed his buddies, making his way toward Dean. âListen, tell her that if she wants someone that can keep it up without the use of meds and doesnât go to bed before 6, to give me a call.â The guy said, giving Deanâs shoulder a slight pat before going into the car with his other three buddies.
Dean started to take out his gun just as the guy in the driverâs seat started the engine. Before he could fully take out his gun you were standing next to him, two boxes of pie in your hands and a slight look of worry on your face. âCan I shoot them?â He asked you.Â
âNot in public.â You responded, handing him one of the boxes. âWhat did they say to you?â You were curious, and you had every right to be. Even though you were accustomed to Dean pulling out his gun, you were confused as to why he had wanted to pull it out in that moment, especially since you were pretty sure that the men in the car werenât any kind of monsters.
âNothing.â Dean was quick to respond, but his response sounded angry, almost hurt.
âIt didnât look like nothing. Especially since you asked if you could shoot them.â Dean handed you back the box of pie that you had just given him, causing you to give him an even more worried look.
âCan we just leave?â His voice was panicked now, maybe with a small hint of embarrassment.
âYeah.â Was all you said as the two of you got into Baby.
There was a strong silence between the two of you, and it wasnât the comfortable kind like you were used to. That was one of the things that you had loved most about Dean; that you and him didnât constantly need to fill the silence with talking. It was something that you enjoyed because your past boyfriends always needed to have some kind of conversation going because they hated the silence. âY/N, can I ask you something?â
âAlways.â You turned your attention to Dean.
âAm IâŠAm I old?â He asked. His eyes flicked in your direction and then back onto the road.
âOld?â You asked, not sure if you had heard him right. Him asking if he was old was something that had caught you off guard.
âYeah. Am I old?â He repeated again.
âDid those guys back there say you were old Dean?â This conversation topic was something that Dean would have never brought up, not unless someone had specifically said something to him. The last time he had this conversation with you was because Claire had jokingly called him an Old Man.
âYou didnât answer the question.â Dean stated. You were positive thatâs what it was.
âNo. Youâre not old Dean. I donât even know why you would think that.â You knew why he would think that; you were pretty sure that the men back at the gas station had said something to him about it. But you didnât know why they would have said something to him.
âThose guys back at the gas station called meâŠOld Man.â His voice sounded slightly defeated, like he was embarrassed even though he had no reason to be. âI caught those assholes looking at you, making comments.â He turned to face you for a slight moment before looking back at the road, his knuckles started to turn white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. âThey were trying to make a bet about who would be able to pick you up. When I confronted them about it, telling them that you were my girlfriend, thatâs when they laughed and called me an old man.â
âDean ââ You began to say, but he cut you off before you could finish.
âSweetheart, I know you could have handled that yourself. You have a black belt in three different martial arts and you donât take any kind of shit from anyone. Hell, a part of me had wanted to see you embarrass the guy because I know for a fact that he isnât your type butâŠhe was your age.â He was your age.Â
âWell, youâre not old. Itâs not like youâre 90 Dean. Youâre 42. Thatâs still young.â You stated, putting your hand on his thigh, a small gesture that you knew he loved. You had hoped that your comment would make him feel slightly better.
âIâm not young Sweetheart, you are. I got like 15 years on you.â His response made your face drop.
âThatâs never been a problem for you before. I mean, itâs not like Iâm 17 Dean, Iâm three years shy of 30.â When you first met Dean, it was roughly five years ago when you were 22 and he was 37. Initially when you had first met him, you had figured that the two of you would be nothing more than just friends due to the semi-massive age difference that there was between the two of you, despite the fact that you did find him attractive. For the first couple of years that you knew him, you didnât try to pursue anything; and neither did he, although the two of you had similar feelings. Dean had figured that you wouldnât want to be with someone his age, and you thought that he didnât want to be with someone your age. It wasnât until Cas said something and both of you almost dying on a hunt that caused you two to realize that maybe you should give it a shot â and youâve been together ever since.
âExactly. Youâre three years shy of 30. Iâm far, far past that. You know what I was doing at 30? Trying to stop the Apocalypse. When I was 30, you were still in high school. You werenât even on my radar back then.âÂ
âWould have been pretty good jailbait though.â You joked.
âNot funny.â He responded.
âIâm not laughing.â You said back.
âCan I ask you another question?â His knuckles were still white against the steering wheel.Â
âOf course.â What else could you possibly say?
âWhy me? Why out of all the guys you could possibly be with, that are your own age, that you actively choose to be with me? I mean, I know I drink too much, I have way, way too many screws loose, Iâve been to Hell, Purgatory, been possessed more times than I can count, I have major trust issues, PTSD.â He looked over at you again. âThe list goes on and on. Iâm all kinds of fucked up Sweetheart.â Your heart sank at Deanâs comments. You hated more than anything when he talked bad about himself, because there was no reason for him to do that.Â
âPull over.â Was all you said.
Dean looked at you with a confused expression. âWhat?â
âDid I stutter? I said pull over.â Your voice was stern now, but it made Dean pull over on the side of the road.
âDean, the fact that you even have to ask me why Iâm with you shows me that you donât actually realize or understand the reasons why I love you. Youâre right, I could be with someone my own age. But you know what? I donât want to. Iâve dated people my age, and they honestly suck. Hunters or not, men my age or even a year or two older have no fucking clue what they want in life. The only thing theyâre positive about is wanting to fuck anything that has a pulse and gaslight women.â You let out a frustrated sigh. âMy parents used to tell me, ânot all men,â and I knew that. You may have a slight case of alcoholism ââ
âA slight case?â Dean interrupted, raising an eyebrow. He thought you saying that he only had a slight case of alcoholism was a tad too generous.
You pointed a finger at him. âDonât interrupt me.â Dean put up his hands in defeat. âAs I was saying. You may have a slight case of alcoholism, are insanely prone to nightmares, get angry more often than you probably should, enjoy murder every now and then, have been to Hell and Purgatory and back, but wanna know something? Iâll take all of that, gladly! Because you are honestly the best man I could ever ask for. Yes, you have some flaws, but who doesnât? I mean look at me for example.â You went into your jacket and pulled out your hunting knife. âIâm someone who brings a hunting knife wherever they go like itâs a security blanket. No normal person does that Dean.â
âAs you should. You need to be prepared at a moments notice.â He agreed.
âExactly! No sane person would agree with me.â You said, putting back your hunting knife.
âY/N, are you saying that part of the reason youâre with me is because Iâm not sane?â He raised an eyebrow. Heâs been called crazy or insane more times than he could count, so this wasnât particularly newsworthy for him.
âI was thinking moreâŠcautious.â You shrugged. âI meanâŠNo, cautious isnât the right word. You are cautious butâŠâ You were really trying to come up with the right word to tell Dean, and you could feel it on the tip of your tongue. âWhat Iâm trying to say is, any other guy would be freaked the fuck out if they saw me walking around with a hunting knife in my jacket. You? You couldnât give two fucks. And you wanna know something else? Iâve worked with a lot of hunters over the years before I met up with you and Sam, who just looked at me and laughed because of my age, thinking that I donât know the difference between rock salt and holy water.â You took one of his hands in yours intertwining your fingers. âYou, not including Sam of course, accepted me as someone that actually knows a thing or two about hunting despite my age. You treated me like your equal. Hunter or not.â
You treated me like your equal. Your words rang in Deanâs mind. âOf course I treat you like my equal Sweetheart. What man wouldnât? âSides those other hunters and the Jayhawks spirit squad back there.â He chuckled, and you let out a small laugh too.
âExactly. Youâre a feminist icon.â You smiled.
âA feminist icon uh? Who knew?â Dean finally smiled.
âIn all seriousness, I could give a ratâs ass about your age. You treat me right and my parents love you. What else could I possibly ask for?â You gave his hand a slight squeeze as you shot him another smile, but a softer one this time.
âStill amazed that your parents love me.â He said, starting to lean in closer to you.
âYou treat their daughter right. Thatâs all they care about.â You confessed. When you had first told your parents about Dean, one of the first things they asked is if he was treating you right, they never asked about his age. And when they had met him, they still never commented on that fact, even when he wasnât in the room.
He caressed your face. âI really am lucky to have you.â He smiled and leaned in fully to kiss you. âI love you so much.â
You smiled. âI love you more.â
He let out a slight chuckle. âShow off.â
âAlways.â You responded, leaning in to kiss him again.
#dean Winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean x you#dean x reader#spn imagine#supernatural imagine#spn one shot#supernatural one shot#spn#supernatural#reader insert#female reader
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đđąđ„đ„ đđđđđĄ đđš đźđŹ đ©đđ«đ
-đ«đđđ đđđŠđđ«đšđ§
pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader
genre: smut & angst -> 18+!!
words: ~3k
warnings: dom!rafe & subby reader, prison sex, âpublicâ sex in a sense you can be possibly watched and heard, (slight) daddy kink, (sexual) choking, hair pulling, blackmailing, bribery, mentions of an affair (not r & r), fingering, slight handjob, mentions of violence and tiny teeny bit of soft!rafe
summary: you visit your fiancé in jail after his arrest
note: i want to say big thank you to @rafesthroatbaby for giving me this wonderful idea (i really hope i did it justice) and to @rvfecamerons for beta reading and helping me improving this piece!!! love you guys to pieces!!
The moment you walked through the doors of the Kildare's Detention Center, you had all eyes on you. The way your cute little summer dress hugged your curves and emphasized your tits, combined with the pastel pink heels and the way you were carrying yourself, was just impossible for anyone to miss. You pulled out your phone and opened your camera, using it as a mirror to apply your lipstick. When your gaze met one of the officers, you gave him a genuine but exaggerated smile, before making your way over to him, making sure to swing your hips a little bit more than usual.
âGood afternoon, officer.â You smirked. âIâm here to see Rafe Cameron.â
âMr. Cameron isnât allowed any visitors. Have a nice day.â He bluntly spoke, not interested in any further interaction.
âOh, but he sure is.â You smiled innocently, before leaning over the counter until you were really close to the man in front of you. âAnd youâre gonna let me see him.â
âAnd why is that?â
You smiled devilishly, as leaned towards the man, now only inches away from his face. âBecause Iâm sure you know who my family is and that I am capable of shredding every single one of you and your corrupt and very much incompetent colleagues to pieces if you donât grant me that teeny tiny request to see my man..â You paused, âStarting with you and the little affair you have been going on with the mayor's wife.â
His expression shifted as he listened to your threads, knowing that you were indeed serious. You saw how he was fighting with his thoughts and he knew this was bad but he couldnât risk you exposing the entire department and especially not his affair.
âFine.â He mumbled as he looked from left to right, making sure that nobody was listening in. âWait here.â
He came back around five minutes later and guided you towards what you assumed to be the room, where your fiancé was waiting. He was about to open the door when you stopped him.
âSee, Officer Wilson, my man and I didnât have a lot of privacy recently⊠so I need you to make sure that we will have that.â
âAbsolutely not.â
You gave him a disappointed look before reaching into your bag once again. You pulled out a 100-dollar bill and stuffed it into his pocket, before leaning towards his ear. âSee, if you would be so kind and look awayâŠmight even let you watch.â You smirked, causing him to turn bright red from embarrassment. âKeys?â You smiled, as you opened your hand. He reached onto his collar, removed one single key, and handed it to you. âSee, wasnât so hard, now was it?â You grinned.
You could tell Officer Wilson was beyond pissed that he got screwed by someone as young as you, a female to make it worse but that didnât matter to you. You got what you wanted.
âŠ.
âHello, baby.â You said the second he had closed the door behind you.
â(Y/N).â He chuckled softly. You were still standing next to the door, but you could see the tears building up in his eyes.
Your heart arched at the way he was looking at you, with teary eyes, tousled hair, and a bruised-up face. You were there when Officer Thomas buried his fist in your fiancĂ©âs face, everyone was able to hear your screams and pleads for him to stop. Deputy Plumb had to physically hold you back and stop you from going full-blown crazy on her colleague, which resulted in you throwing violent threats at the whole police force that was there at that moment. Plumb even wanted to lock you into a cell until you calmed down but Shoupe warned her of the aftermath that would have been your father if she had taken action on her plan.
You took the seat in front of him and immediately held out your hands, for him to hold them. His hands were cuffed together with a light violet and blue line around his wrists, where the metal clung to his skin. You immediately went for the key in your fist and tried to open it.
âHow did you convince them to let you in? Alone to give you the key?â He asked surprised but deep down he knew he shouldnât be. He knew how convincing and resourceful you were, it was one of the many things he loved about you.
âYou know I have my ways.â You smirked at the satisfying click of the cuffs. The second his hands were free, you took them into yours and softly caressed his bruised skin. They had them way too tight and you were pretty sure they knew that.
âYou do.â He chuckled. âI miss you.â
âIâm here now.â You whispered softly, trying to suppress the tear that was building up in your eye.
You wanted to say that you wouldnât leave him again but you both knew that wouldâve been a lie. The way he held on to your hands was enough for you to jump up, walk around the table, and climb onto his lap, where you gently pressed his head onto your chest.
âWhat are you doing?â He whispered, âYouâre gonna get yourself in trouble.â
âI wonât, I promise.â You smiled, âI made sure of that. Now come here.â
He leaned his head back onto your chest and buried his face into your dress. It didnât take long until you felt his tears through the thin fabric of your dress, followed by quiet sobs leaving his mouth. It was only with you, that he would ever let himself go like that but he hated it, he hated every single second of it. He knew how much it broke you to be apart from him and he hated to be the cause of your suffering. He never wanted it to go this way, he never wanted anyone to get hurt but most of all, he never wanted for you to get hurt.
After a few minutes, he quickly got himself back together and looked into your eyes. They were soft and kind but had an evil spark in them, which was the perfect reflection of your personality. He saw how much you tried to stay strong for him, he saw how much you fought back your tears and he couldnât have that. He needed to be the strong one, the one who protected you and was there when you needed him, not the other way around. But at this moment, he couldnât and you knew that. His tears had dried by now, just as quickly as you were used to it with Rafe.
You leaned in for a kiss, which started out soft and gentle but the more you both realized how you had missed each other's lips, the more passionate and hungry it became. Your hand was resting on his chest, as his hands were wandering down your back to your ass until they slipped under your dress. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, a feeling that you had missed so much. You felt his hardened bulge between your legs, begging for your touch. You let your hand slide into his pants, the thin material being easy to be pushed aside, and started caressing him. He moaned out quietly at the feeling of your fingers dancing around his tip, trying to not get the attention of the officers. Normally he wouldn't give a single fuck about anyone hearing the two of you, but in a setting like this, he would rather die than have you pulled away from him.
He pushed away the material of your barely existing thong, and slid inside two of his fingers, causing you to let out a loud moan. His other hand quickly flew towards your mouth, making you unable to make another sound.
âQuiet princess, you donât want them to hear us, right?â He breathed into your ear.
You gave him a quick nod, a silent promise for you to try and stay quiet. He started moving his fingers again as you slid your hand up and down his shaft, first slowly but then faster and faster, until it became hard for him to stay quiet. He let out another moan and this time it was you, who put her hand on his lips.
âSeriously?â You whispered, one eyebrow raised.
He then pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, leaving a satisfied grin on his face. âYou have no idea how much I missed your taste on my lips, baby.â
You smirked, before hopping onto the table behind you. The metal was cold on your bare skin, sending goosebumps all over your skin. âI would love to feel your tongue on me baby butâŠâ You started, âBut I need to feel you inside of me becauseâŠâ You stopped, looking up into your fiancĂ©'s eyes.
âBut you donât know when we will be able to do this again.â He finished, a tone of sadness washing over his voice. âI donât want to think about that right now, princess.â He smiled, before reaching into his pants and pulling out his dick. âI love you.â He whispered against her lips, before aligning himself with your entrance.
âRafe?â
âYeah?â
âI need you to promise me something.â
âEverything you want, baby.â
âI want you to know that I will do everything in my power to get you out of this. That I will never give up on you. I want you to know that we will be able to do this again, but right now, I really need you fuck me like we wonât.â You paused, âI need you to fuck me like itâs gonna be the last thing you will ever do. Can you do that for me?â
âTrust me, princess, once Iâm done with you, you will barely be able to walk out of here, leaving my DNA all over the floor of this building.â
Before you could even respond, he had his hand on your neck and pushed himself into you. You wanted to moan out at the feeling but his grip around your throat tightened so much, it was hard for you to get any sounds out. He started off slow and gentle but quickly became faster, as he thrusted into you. He clashed his lips onto yours, as your fingers dug into his shoulders. you didnât realize it, but your hands moved up to his neck where your nails dug deep into his skin. He felt so good inside of you and since you werenât allowed to make any noise, your energy just had to go somewhere.
âJust⊠just like that baby.â You whispered, trying so hard to keep your voice down.
He smirked and thrust into you even harder. With every thrust, he hit that sweet spot of you and you could already sense that familiar feeling in your stomach building up. He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, so he pulled out, causing you to protest.
âWhyâŠâ You pouted, disappointment written all over your face.
âTurn around.â He demanded, without giving you any reasoning.
You did as told, jumped from the table, and turned around. With a swift motion, Rafe had buried himself in your walls once again, without any warning. Your nails dug into the cold metal of the table, and you were sure if you applied just a little bit more pressure, theyâd break.
Your face was directed towards the door and windows now, making everyone who chose to look inside able to look directly into your face. The danger of being walked in by an entire police force, combined with the deep and ruthless thrusts of Rafeâs hips, was enough to almost send you over the edge. Your gaze was fixated on the window, where you could see the back of Officer Wilsonâs head, who was standing guard just like you told him to.
âHarder please!â You moaned out louder than intended.
Your lack of quietness seemed to have caught the attention of the guard, who had now turned around and granted himself a peak through the glass. His eyes met yours and you couldnât help but smirk, as you let your head fall back into Rafeâs neck. He also seemed to have noticed what was going on and he wouldâve lied if he said it didnât turn him on even more. The grin on his face was enough for the now embarrassed Officer to turn around again, desperately trying to hide the blush on his face.
âI thought, I told you to stay quietâŠfucking bratâŠâ He growled, as he took a chunk of your hair and pulled your head back, so he could reach your ear more easily. âYouâre gonna be the death of both of us I swear.â
You were sure he saw how you were smirking at the officer from the reflection of the windows, but that only made it more fun. You loved doing shit like this and he knew that. But you also knew how good he was at punishing you and most definitely could not risk him leaving you dry, not tonight.
âMh sorry.â You cried out.
âWhat was that?â
âSorry, daddy.â You repeated, âGonna be good now, promise.â.
âThatâs what I thought.â He smirked, before ripping off your thong. âJust to be sure.â He added as he stuffed the piece of fabric into your mouth.
You could taste yourself on your thong and if you were being honest, you really were fucking delicious. His thrusts became harder and harder now, hitting your G-spot every time he pounded into you. But it wouldnât be Rafe Cameron if he wouldnât add at least one finger to the party, in order to send you completely over the edge. He placed his index finger on your clit and started massaging it, while his other hand started to taunt your ass relentlessly.
âBeing such a good girl for daddy, doing such a good job.â He cooed into your ear, but you were barely able to hear his words, as your mind had drifted far, far away. âTaking me so perfectly.â He added as he thrust himself even deeper into you, with more force and less mercy.
He knew it was loud but he had long stopped caring. All his sorrows had left his body, the second he could feel your walls around him. His soul might have been broken, as he got ripped off every ounce of control he had over himself and his surroundings, but when he was inside of you, it was like you handed it all right back to him. At this moment, his hand now back on your hip and his other on your clit, he had all the control over not just your body, but also over his own, as he thrust into you deeper and deeper. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and there was no doubt that Officer Wilson heard it too.
The harder and faster he went, the harder he felt not just your walls tighten around him, but also his dick twitching beneath them. He knew the both of you were close so he sped up his pace once again, ramming himself into you with every ounce of strength he had left inside him. Your vision turned blurry as you felt tears stream down your face and your release rushing over your body like a bomb exploding inside of you. Rafe came close behind, shooting his load deep inside of you.
He stayed like that for a second, his arm wrapped around you, as he rested his head on the back of your shoulder. As the two of you tried to catch your breath, reality swamped over your mind like a hurricane. You pulled your thong out of your mouth and wiped away the black tears that had stained the table beneath you. You then set yourself up and turned around, where you found Rafe fixing up his pants. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw the pain that he had been surprising for the last seven minutes and it tore your heart apart once again.
He softly wiped away the tears that had stained your beautiful face, but he wasnât able to get it all. He knew the tears werenât coming from a sad place originally, but he also knew that these very much couldâve been the tears you had been suppressing since the moment you stepped foot into the room.
âHey.â He said softly, as he wrapped his hands around your face, forcing you to look at him. âI love you.â
âI love you.â You smiled, as you took his hand in yours. âDonât worry baby, Iâm gonna get you out of here. I promise.â You added before getting interrupted by a loud knock on the door.
You rolled your eyes at the sign, making the boy in front of you laugh. âItâs okay.â He whispered, âDonât worry about me. Iâm gonna be fine.â He paused, âAll I need is for you to be happy.â
âBaby hell is gonna freeze over before Iâm letting you rot in this cell. Besides, how dare you, believe that I could ever be happy without you by my side.â
He smiled softly, before placing a soft kiss on your lips. He then took the handcuffs from the table and handed them over to you. âRather have you do it than any of those assholes.â
âKinky.â You chuckled, before placing them around his wrist. You made sure to make them loose enough, so he would still be able to move them around, without his wrists bruising up. âHere, keep this, youâre gonna need it.â You said as you got the ripped piece of fabric, that used to be your underwear and stuffed it into his pants, careful so it wouldn't be visible.â Rafe grinned at that gesture of you, knowing this, and the memory of you and the past few minutes would be the one thing keeping him sane for what was about to come.
âTill death do us part?â
âTill death do us part.â
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