#okay there are going to be a lot of names here.

[eunoiathewriter]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 — Choi Su-bong (Thanos)

Sypnosis: Su-bong had always known who she was. For years they had been in the same class. Yet, it's not until now that he has started feeling like this. Like he's being pulled towards her. (Or, part 1 of headcanons about classmate Thanos falling for a girl in his class).

Warnings: Parental neglect, strict parents, mentions of abuse, smoking. Reader is referred to as a girl. Probably OOC, but this is about a part of his life we don't know anything about, so i can make stuff up either way.

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: Since i promised to tag you @ivonhart

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had been in the same class as you since elementary school. Through all the years, he had the same role as class clown and often threw out jokes in the middle of class. Often getting reprimanded by teachers. Yet he was a favourite among his classmates and fellow younger students, though not really by the older ones.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found school often to be something he disliked due to never really understanding the way teachers explained things. But he would look at students like you and your two friends who could understand everything and get in a sour mood.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only had brief interactions with you throughout all your years in the same class but still knew you were the smartest in class.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who absolutely loathed whenever they did peer reviews in class. Usually he never wrote down any comments on his classmates works, knowing they always did a lot better than him anyway. So when he was handed a paper, he sighed heavily.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who overheard that you got his essay to review, and internally he cringed at this. Knowing what he had written and that it probably was not up to par with what such an academic student as you could write. Had anyone else gotten his essay, there would not be many notes, as most of them only verbally said if something was good or okay or even bad. But not you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who forgot all about the essay he should be reading and the whole time kept his eyes trained on you. Watching your eyes move across his paper with a form of calmness, occasionally jotting down small comments on his paper that he wished to see immediately. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who averted his eyes from you when the teacher said to give the essay back to whoever you were reviewing. He grumbled a small "It was fine" to his friend Min-ki while handing his essay back. Just as he handed it over, though, he heard his name get called and turned only to be faced with you.

"Hey, here you go." You held out his essay for him to take, a small smile on your lips. 

"Oh, thanks..." Su-Bong took the paper from your hand with a tight smile, expecting you to walk off. But you didn't.

"I liked your essay, by the way, Su-Bong. I never really knew all of that about rap. There's just a few notes, but overall, it was great." 

"Thank you." He thanked not being able to withstand sitting up a little bit more from his slumped-over position. You gave a little nod and another smile before turning. Ha-eun, who stood behind you, handed yours back.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who frowned and looked through his three-page essay and the few notes you had jotted down for him. They were simple ones, only asking to explain a little further on one thing and a few small grammatical errors. Who knew getting to write an essay about something he liked would make him write a good one?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went home that day to his mess of a family and for once did not feel stupid after a long school day. Fixing the parts in his essay recommended by you so he could turn it in the next day to the teacher. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was surprised when the teacher handed back the essays and patted him on the back for "stepping up". Seeing him get a score higher than he had gotten in a long time, especially in a subject that was not music.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got stopped in the hallway by you after school as you asked him how it went with the essay. When he told how well he'd done and thanked you for the advice you'd given him, all you could do was shrug and say it was nothing. But it was something to Su-Bong.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who asked you then and there if you'd be open to helping him with schoolwork, to tutor him as his friends had said you were good at such things. And because his current one was shit. Getting a bright smile and nod as an answer made him raise his brows.

"You can?" He asked, a bit stunned.

"Of course," you nodded. "I'm more than happy to help."

"Are you free on Thursdays after school?" When he asked that, the way you smiled and your brows furrowed a little almost told him it was a stupid question. You were known to stay late and study.

"Mhm, just meet me in the classroom after school. I stay late often anyway."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who unconsciously then began to watch you more, not in a creepy way, but when he saw you, his eyes would linger on you for a moment. If you were in the classroom with friends and he walked past, his eyes would stay on you till he could no longer see you. When he heard your voice, his head would turn in the direction it came from, trying to locate where you were.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who enjoyed being tutored by you more than his old one. Unlike them, you adjusted the way you explained subjects to him. At first he had not understood a word you said, but after a bit of readjusting in your way of explaining, he slowly got the hang of it.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, whose eyes would flicker from the paper or book you were pointing to while explaining and back to you. His eyes would stay focused on you every time you checked his progress, the way you would mouth things that he could not hear and the way you would furrow your brows in concentration.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, despite getting to spend an hour or two extra with you every Thursday afternoon, could not find it in himself to strike up conversation outside of tutoring. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would come to the classroom after school, having said his goodbyes to Min-ki and Dong-hyun as they left to get home, only to find you already in the classroom with your books out and earbuds in that connected to your MP3. He had no idea how you could do such long days in school.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found himself actually improving after only three weeks of help from you, even earning himself more claps on the back from teachers. Even his parents took notice, getting to hear directly from his homeroom teacher of the change in his grades and quality of work as of late. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who never claimed to Min-ki and Dong-hyun that he had suddenly become an academic weapon when they pointed out their grades on the exam were still better than his. He had only said that "Shit’s easier to understand. It's weird." Which made his friends only shrug their shoulders because grades never really mattered anyway for Su-bong. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had been bored out of his mind while wandering the school halls, waiting for you to come to tutor him, had become a drag after ten minutes passed. But the sound that came from the gymnasium quickly caught his attention as he moved closer and creaked the door open slightly before sneaking in behind the equipment to investigate the sound. Much to his surprise, it had been you. Playing your violin. All alone in the gymnasium. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who accidentally made some gym equipment fall as he tried to get a better look, which caused him to curse a bit loudly. Looking up from his fallen-over position with a sheepish smile as you had whipped around and faced him, letting out a sigh at the realisation it was just him. 

"What the— Su-bong?" Your voice came out confused when you saw him.

He sat up and rubbed his neck. "Uhm... surprise?" 

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Didn't know you were a musician. Are you hiding a band in here too?" He dodged the question while standing himself up, watching as you put the violin down.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"Well, I was waiting for you to tutor me, but you ditched me. So, technically, this is all your fault."

"I didn't ditch you," you shook your head. "I told you yesterday that I would be fifteen minutes late."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me why." He watched as you snapped the buckles to your case shut. "Had I known, I'd have been here much sooner."

"Why?" You could not help but ask with a slight laugh. When your eyes met his with an expectant look, he averted them and tried acting nonchalant.

"Obviously to listen." He shrugged, turning away slightly before speaking again. "You're really good, by the way."

"Oh, I—thank you. But you can't just come spying on me."

"I wasn't spying. I was... appreciating. There's a difference. You're smart, so you should know that."

You chuckled at him, also not missing the flattery that he surely thought would get him out of tutoring. "You're not getting out of tutoring, you know."

"Man, seriously?”

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was relieved that summer had come and that he would finally get a well-deserved break from school. While walking out of school with his friends, spotting you with your friends. Nodding his head at you when you shot him a smile, a way to tell you to have a good summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had in the beginning hoped that his summer break would at least not include sitting at home. Yet, it did. Neither of his mother or father being able to stay home or take him anywhere during the long break. He could not even hang out with Min-ki and Dong-hyun, who were out of Seoul for the entire summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent the first week of summer break lounging on his couch, watching TV, and eating whatever junk he wanted. Only getting minimal texts from the guys who were busy spending time with their families.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after spending a whole week inside, decided he would go out and see if anything would inspire him. But it ended up only being him walking outside in the summer heat with earbuds in as they blasted his newly downloaded music. Rap, to be specific.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who weaved his way between people in the market, giving nasty glares towards guys younger than him who bumped his shoulder. Trying to find where that place that sold his favourite food was now again turned out to be a bigger hassle with so many people lingering around the marketplace.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who stopped in his tracks and had to backtrack a few steps with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows at spotting your familiar face among the crowd. Standing by your bicycle while paying for some groceries. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who could not help but make his way over, hands in his pockets, as he called your name and got your attention. Your face displayed surprise upon seeing him, having thought he would have been with Min-ki and Dong-hyun all summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who were surprised, although he did not let it show, to find out your friends Soo-min and Ha-eun were also gone for the whole summer. This has left both of you all alone and without friends to hang out with.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who asks to join in on your shopping round, claiming he has nothing better to do. Which he really didn't. Occasionally, he would poke fun at your seriousness when it came to choosing the right fruits. His joking around would only bring a small smile onto your lips as the two of you walked through the market stand by stand. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who insisted on walking with you to your neighbourhood, stealing glances at you every now and then. For some strange reason, he also felt strangely at ease with you, enjoying that you were so easy to crack a joke to. Every time, he earned either a small laugh or a small smile pulling at your lips.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only reached the edge of your neighbourhood before you stopped him, saying that you could take it all from here. He watched you almost get onto the bike to cycle the last bit but was able to stop you before you were off.

"You know, we should hang out sometime." He said it as casually as he could, hands in his pockets while shrugging.

"Hang out?" You echoed, brows raised a bit. 

"Yeah. I mean, we get along, right? And besides, neither of us really has anything to do either way. So why not keep each other company?"

"I—uh. Hmm." You did not really know what to say.

"Beats sitting inside, bored, all summer." 

"I don't know, Su-bong. My parents are sort of strict about who I meet outside of school. Soo-min and Ha-eun are really the only ones they agree to."

Su-bong clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Come on, (Name). You're smart—I'm sure you can come up with a simple lie."

"If my parents find out, I will be grounded till I'm married." 

"I'm sure you can bat your lashes and come up with something to cover our asses. Or what, do you want to spend all summer alone and doing nothing?"

You sighed and thought about it before answering. "Fine. But my parents really cannot know about this."

"That's the spirit!" Su-bong nudged your arm slightly. "You got my number?"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who walked home that day with your number in his mobile phone. Part of him began to wonder what lies you would tell your parents to be allowed to leave the house without having them hunting you down.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later that night messaged you and asked if you would be free the next day. Only minutes later did he get an answer that you had nothing planned and a question of where to meet. Quickly, he sent back a place, a bit further from your home as he now understood you not wanting him in your neighbourhood, and a time that would at least let him sleep in.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who met up with you the next day five minutes late and could not help but poke fun at your obvious nervousness. Commenting on how you really had to relax a little, also pointing out that the only reason your parents would ever find out about this all was if you ever slipped up with whatever lies you made up. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got surprised an hour or so into the two of you going around town, seeing how you began to loosen up. You were no longer looking around like a child hiding while eating sweets they weren't allowed. The tension in your shoulders left, and instead of just rolling your eyes at his remarks, you shot some back.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went home after hanging out that first day, found himself having enjoyed it a lot more than he originally thought. It was different from when he hung out with Min-ki and Dong-hyun. Sure, they knew him well and had been friends with him since kindergarten, but still.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after three days of hanging out, asked you if the two of you could please take your bike instead of walking. Because of his insistence, you said yes, much to his delight, but that also meant he had to sit on your bike carrier. This led to some arguing as you wobbled a little in the beginning, but when you sternly told him to just sit still and shut up, Su-bong was in no way about to test you and only answered with a slight smirk, "Yes, ma'am."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would fill the silence between the two of you with anything rap-related. You had always known he liked rap and did it himself; he was not shy to ever announce it to the whole class. Surprisingly enough, you ended up learning a lot about the genre you had never indulged in.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who gets pulled along to your favourite bookshop one day and just trails behind you as you point out ones that you desperately wanted to read. He did not understand your love for words on pages, but he did not exactly complain because at least he had someone to spend the summer with. But he would furrow his brows questioningly when you left the bookshop without even buying a single one of the twenty-something books you had pointed out.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who realised you were not just an incredibly study-focused person, but actually someone who had never really gotten to do just whatever.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after a whole week of hanging out, found himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who dragged you along to the best arcade in town where he spent the majority of his money insisting he could win a prize from the claw machine. Finally, you stepped in and won the prize on your first try, leaving the boy to gape at you before jokingly calling you a "witch."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who focused on beating his own record at his favourite game while you stand off to the side, almost yelling at him to listen to your advice. When he does as you suggest and he wins, both of you high-five at the win.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you pulled along to a part of the city where there was a whole neighbourhood with abandoned buildings filled with graffiti. The two of you find one that gives the best view of the city skyline, and from then on, when neither of you knew what to do, that was your place to go. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who did not call or message with Min-ki and Dong-hyun as much only three and a half weeks into summer break. The majority of his calls were instead to you, sometimes even calling when your parents were home. 

"Come on, ditch violin practice and come keep me company. I'm dying over here." His comment made you roll your eyes, as if he could see from the other side of the phone.

"Hm, no thank you. I don't feel like being strung up by my toes today!" You shot back at him, causing him to groan.

"And here I was thinking we were making progress." 

"Who is it you're talking to, (Name)?" Your mother suddenly glanced into your room as you sat on the bed.

"Just Ha-eun." You answered smoothly. The choked sounds on the other side of the phone and snickering made you want to smack him in the head.

"Oh, well, tell her I said hi!" Your mother smiled a little before retracting down the hallway.

"Dude," Su-bong lost it, laughter a bit muffled. "You didn't even hesitate. That was so smooth—look at you becoming a pro at lying!" 

You sighed and rubbed your face, but the smile still pulled at your lips. "Shut up." 

"No, I'm like actually impressed. Should I be worried?"

"For me to hang up? Yes."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found himself thinking about you more often than he liked. His mind often went to think about what he had said, your reaction to it, what you would be doing the next day, and anything that had to do with you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after almost four weeks of hanging out, slung an arm over your shoulder to prepare for his proposition. Dragging out a "So..." while you gave him a side glance, awaiting whatever dumb idea he had now gotten to come out. When you told him to just tell you, he did as he was told.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who awaited your big blow-up, as you for the moment just stood and stared at him, blinking occasionally, as if he had just suggested the two of you go and steal from the local bank. Especially when all he had suggested was for you to sneak out one night. "Everything's more fun at night," he had claimed.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, instead of getting a full-on lecture, got a question of what the two of you would even do. This made a sly grin spread on his face as it sounded like you were not completely opposed to the whole idea. Was he a bad influence on you?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made out an intricate plan on how you were to sneak out. Both of you came to the conclusion that the upcoming Friday night would be perfect because your parents went to bed slightly earlier. Hours before your parents would come home, you for once showed Su-bong exactly where your apartment was and painted out your window (that was on the first floor, only two meters above the ground). 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who that Friday, at your decided time, waited on the grass below your window as you opened your window and tossed down your jacket for him to catch. Once you had jumped down and stood up, he could not help but make a single comment.

"Not bad for a first escape." Su-bong said with a smirk while handing you your jacket.

"Yeah, you're such a bad influence." You shot back sarcastically, already moving towards your bike by the bike stand and unlocking it. 

"I'm honoured you think so!" 

You shook your head, pulling out your bike and getting ready to go. But you could not help the growing smile, having grown quite fond of the boy's antics. "Just get on, idiot." 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had directed you to a 24-hour convenience store. He jumped off before you parked your bike off to the side and locked it. When you gave him a raised brow, he told you that he was "paying back" for all the free rides you had given him.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who followed you inside and had a hard time keeping up with your speed as you went from shelf to shelf and grabbed your favourite things. It ended up being more than he thought, but at the same time, you had been pedalling around with him on the back of your bike for four weeks, so it was really nothing.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat on the curb of the convenience store with you, looking at all the people going in and out and watching the star-filled sky. When a group of drunk university students walked past and two ended up toppling over each other, you and Su-bong could not keep from laughing.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later that night, when the two of you were quietly sitting on the roof of the abandoned building, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one and placing it between his lips, out the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him. Without saying a word, he held out the pack to you, not expecting you to take one, but you did.

"Something wrong?" You asked while taking the lighter from Su-bong's hand, fingers brushing against his as he took an inhale.

"Since when do you smoke?" Smoke left his mouth as he asked that question.

"I don't do it often if that's what you think." You let out a breathy laugh, lighting the cigarette.

All you got was a dumbfounded face in response, like this was the biggest revelation in his whole life. So you explained further. "My dad smokes; I've taken some of his every now and then. He doesn't notice."

"For real?" Su-bong asked and earned a nod in response. Then it was as if he deflated a bit. "Damn. And I thought I would be a bad influence."

"Sorry to burst your bubble. My dad has a bit more influence than you."

"Wait a moment..." He sat up, exhaling the smoke in his mouth while looking at you with narrowed eyes. "Do Soo-min and Ha-eun know their angel of a friend smokes?"

"First of all, no, they don't. And second of all, angel?"

"What? It fits you, angel."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who that night helped you back up into your room through the window, having to give you a little extra push. Once you were inside and leaned out the window to wave bye to him, he could not help but notice the rather large smile on your face.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who learnt that you were not just smiles, politeness, and intelligence in the form of a human, but you had attitude and humour. It was a huge contrast to the polite and respectful girl who would sit in class and do her work. You did not shy away from a witty comment.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later the next week after spending the day at the arcade, casually mentioned doing something later that same night. He had fully been expecting you to say it had been a one-time thing, but instead, as you grabbed your bike, he got an "I'm in" from you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had not in the beginning of the summer expected to hang out with you every day, and now, also, some nights. It was almost as if he had forgotten about Dong-hyun and Min-ki.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you would run around town with any time of the day, as long as your parents had no idea what you were doing. The adventures consisted of frequent visits to the 24-hour convenience store, urban exploration, bike rides around the closer neighbourhoods, sharing a cigarette or two, or even going around stores in town along with everyone else participating in Seoul's nightlife.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would sit outside your violin lessons in the summer and listen to you replaying the same passage over and over till it would be perfect. He had no idea why the old woman who was your teacher had to be so loud about your mistakes, like screaming about it would help you in any way. It made him pull a face of disdain for the woman he had never met.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would sometimes sneak inside the big theatre when you had lessons just to hide behind the chairs to listen to you better. The few times you had caught him out of the corner of your eye, he would give you a thumbs up as a silent way to say you were doing great. His goofy face and thumbs up would make you have to hold back a laugh while playing, causing your teacher to stop to ask what was so funny.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you would laugh with after your lesson about the old woman's overdramatic reaction to a single smile. This would then lead to you complaining about the woman as Su-bong sat at the back of your bike and made comments that furthered your laughter.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who for some reason, after that first successful sneak out, began calling you angel. It would often leave you rolling your eyes at him, telling him to quit it, but the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise. Su-bong could not understand the issue, just shrugging and enjoying the reactions out of you while continuing to call you angel. Instead of your name, angel was what he called you.

"Oi, angel! Over here!" 

"Yo, slow down! The hell? Are you trying to ditch me, angel?"

"Where you at? You're still at home? Hurry up, angel, I'm bored as hell out here!"

"What? You want me to start calling you '(Name)' like some stranger? No way, angel."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found your reactions priceless, either the roll of your eyes with a small smile or a swift smack to the back of his head. No matter what, he loved them all. Because at least you were paying attention to him in some way. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you noticed had almost no sense of personal space. It was nothing weird; it was just as though you, after only a few weeks, had reached the same level of friendship he had with Dong-hyun and Min-ki. There would be an arm around your shoulder at random times when walking, when you played an arcade game he would be looming right by your shoulder while poking you whenever you were close to winning, his hands would land on your shoulders whenever you agreed to yet another late-night hangout, and he would find himself grabbing the back of your shirt when the two of you navigated through crowds.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sometimes in crowds just had his brain go blank, which made you tell him to just hold onto your bag's shoulder strap. It had once or twice happened that he just walked into a pole in the middle of the street, so you were just being cautious.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who still watched you closely, whenever he said something, was awaiting a reaction from you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one day suggested you both spend the day at his house. When you walked inside, you could not help but let your eyes go wide at the scale of everything; it was so much bigger than your family's apartment. They even had those fancy fridges with ice and water dispensers. The Choi family was truly rich.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who shrugged about his home, because for him it was a cold and boring one. There was no life, no baby photos of him or old photos of his parents, just two pictures of him and his parents. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who let you roam about his room and find whatever you wanted to entertain yourself, and in your case that had been his Nintendo. He was seated by his computer, downloading music onto his newest MP3. You had found yourself comfy at the foot of his bed while you played the game that had been in his Nintendo.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who immediately sat up from his relaxed position at the slam of the front door. You jumped at the loud sound, not used to such things. Glancing over at the boy, he was already on his feet, cursing under his breath.

"Fuck," Su-bong muttered as he heard the clattering of keys against wood. "My dad's home. Fuck. Come on, angel." 

He ushered you to get up, and you did so, not even arguing about the nickname. "What? What's going on?"

At first he did not answer and only grabbed your wrist lightly, cursing under his breath while trying to gently guide you towards his closet. When you put a hand on top of his on your wrist was when he turned to you, meeting your eyes. "Su-bong."

He stared at you for a second, hearing the steps that seemed to move towards the stairs. Su-bong then sighed. 

"My dad is not like your parents. He doesn't give a single shit about boundaries. If he sees you here, even if he doesn’t know you, he'll start talking shit to you and about you—" He cut himself off with a sigh, hearing the footsteps moving up the stairs. "Look, you don't need to experience him. Just hide—please."

Without another word, you just nodded. Su-bong quickly opened his closet for you to get inside before closing it. With ease he moved and dropped down onto his bed, just as the footsteps up the stairs moved towards his room. He grabbed the Nintendo on his bed and began fiddling with it.

No knock or form of signal that his father was going to come inside was given, the door only opening and revealing him. Su-bong glanced up at him before speaking. "You're home early,"

"And you're still wasting your time here." His father spoke with a grunt. “Did you do anything besides sit here like a bum all day?”

Su-bong stared at his dad for a minute before looking down at the Nintendo in his hands, shaking his head. “Nope. Pretty much perfected the art of breathing, though.”

“You know what, forget it.” His dad let out a sharp breath, waving his hand while pushing the door to Su-bong's room closed again. 

The boy sat for a moment, listening intently to the sound of footsteps descending downstairs once again. Letting out a sigh, he turned towards the closet. “Coast's clear, angel.”

Cracking the closet door open and easily slipping out, your eyes flickered towards the door before moving back to Su-bong on the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, eyes moving all over the place until he looked at her and stood up. “Come on, let's go out instead.”

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had expected you to ask so many more questions after that day, but instead it was as though you had a silent understanding for his situation.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one late night suddenly placed his hands on your waist while you were pedalling towards the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of Seoul. The sudden feeling made only your eyes glance down, as to not alert the boy behind you in any way. After a moment, you looked up as you shrugged it all off and let his hands stay there. It is a better way to keep himself stable and make your work easier either way.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had only felt how you tensed up a bit at the sudden contact, but as quickly as it had happened, you relaxed and focused back on the directions. He could not help the growing smirk on his face. If you had seen it, you would have asked what was funny or even smacked the back of his head for being "weird." But you could not see it.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who always knew you had a small digital camera with you wherever you went. Upon seeing something you deemed beautiful, you would click a photo of it. As of late, you had taken quite a few photos with your camera and sometimes made Su-bong wonder if there was something you did not label as beautiful.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who once stole your camera from where it was lying on the ground and turned it so the lens was turned towards him and snapped about seven or eight photos of himself. Swiftly, he then put the camera down as if it had always lain there untouched. You did not end up finding out until three days later when you went to print out some photos for your wall. You had to cover your mouth to not attract attention in the small store as you looked at the photos, also a bit surprised he got himself somewhat in frame. Su-bong did hear from you later that day about it, but he did not know you had actually not been able to resist printing three of them.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had never been in your family's apartment during the whole summer. As you put it, your neighbours, an elderly couple who had known you and your parents for many years, would more than likely tell your parents that a boy had been with you. But he did not blame you; this whole hanging-out idea was his to begin with.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one night found himself wandering around your neighbourhood alone, escaping the hellhole of home his parents made it when they both were home at once. Glancing down the familiar road, he pulled out his phone, starting to type a quick message while walking down it. Once he spotted the window he was looking for, he saw a lamp had to be on even if the light curtains were drawn. With that, he sent the message. "Look outside."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only seconds later watched as the curtains were opened and you looked out your window. A minute later your window was open, and you looked down at him.

"What the hell are you doing here? It's past midnight!" You whispered harshly down to the boy. He could not keep from smirking.

"I missed you, angel. Can I come up?" 

You shook your head but leaned out a little further in the window, gently clapping your hands as a signal for him to throw up his backpack. Su-bong did so, and you caught it with ease, pulling it through the window and placing it on your floor. "You're insane." 

When you pulled back into your room, swiftly moving to lock your door, it did not take more than two minutes before Su-bong's head peeked inside your window. You walked over, holding out a hand to help him inside with as little noise as possible. 

Climbing in through your window, he took a quick glance around your room. It was small but in a cosy way. Quietly he stepped down into your room, stumbling a little, from the window, and felt you loosen your grip on his hand, so he let go.

"You're lucky my parents are sleeping. They will kill me if they hear you." You said in a low voice while closing the window and drawing your curtains again. 

"Relax. I'm like a ninja." Su-bong joked, but the usual edge to it was missing. 

"You're a walking disaster." You turned around and faced him. "Seriously though, Su-bong, what are you doing here?"

There was nothing accusatory in your tone, so he shrugged while looking around, eyeing the music sheet on your desk. He then shrugged before answering. "Just didn't feel like being home. Can I stay?"

"I—..." You cut yourself off, your face turning with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'll just hang out here; you can do whatever you were doing." 

You just stared at him. 

"I'll be quiet. Promise."

A small smile pulled on your lips as you watched him look over the books on your bookshelf. "Sure. But if my parents hear you, I'll tell them you broke in.”

"Fair game, angel." Su-bong nodded and gave a light chuckle at your comment; his teasing smirk then returned. "So, this is where the magic happens.

"Oh, shut up!"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made himself comfortable on your bed with his Nintendo and MP3 player as you continued to look over some things for your next violin lesson. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who in a quiet voice made a comment about Soo-min and Ha-eun really having a whole wall that was almost explicitly containing photos of them and you. For the fun of it, he teasingly asked what he needed to do to end up on that wall. In response, all he got from you was "To stop annoying me." That would be impossible.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you sternly told he should not sleep on the floor, but that he also had to keep to his own side of the bed if he did not want to get kicked out. Little did either of you know that both of you experienced an increase in heartbeats.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who a few days later repaid you for risking getting caught and allowing him to stay over with the typical convenience store snacks you liked. But you seemingly made no big deal out of it all.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who noticed you no longer just took photos of the landscape but had caught you snapping a few of him too. At times he would grab it from you and insist on taking one together, to which you did not say no. While these photos could not make their way on your wall without your parents questioning it, you still printed them and kept them in your desk. They laid with your favourite photos of you, Soo-min, and Ha-eun. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who noticed that you no longer would have a reaction whenever he called you angel. You went from telling him to stop it to not even blinking at the use of the nickname. At times, though, you would smile a little at the use of it, which Su-bong could not help but notice.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was completely and utterly baffled to learn that you had never really listened to rap before, even if you would let him ramble on about it as if you understood. When you admitted this to him, he went wide-eyed, yelling out a loud "What?" while staring at you. This led to a long interrogation by Su-bong to figure out how you had never listened to the genre.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made it his own mission to indoctrinate you into rap. It began with playing music from his MP3 player, watching you like a hawk for any sign that you liked the songs. When he would see your head moving the slightest to the beats, slowly bobbing your head along, he would nudge your shoulder while saying that you were finally listening to "real" music. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who started to, without your knowledge, download rap on a new MP3 player he'd bought. It was songs he considered the standard, basic but still good songs. All so you could somehow get into the genre even more on your own. When he was done for the night, he sat back and answered a message from Min-ki, only to then completely question his actions.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who felt like he was going through an existential crisis when it finally hit him that all he had been doing as of late was not something he'd even do for Min-ki or Dong-hyun. It all hit him like bricks being thrown in his face.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who now could explain why he felt like he gained something from hearing you laugh at his jokes. He now has his explanation as to why he wants you to listen to this music so much. He had to sit down on his bed and put his head in his hands, saying a single thing to himself, "Oh, fuck me." 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went to sleep that night still in complete shock at this new revelation. How did he, of all people, find himself having feelings for a girl who less than a year ago he would not even know a single thing about?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day had the MP3 player in his back pocket the whole time you and he hung out. He was acting the same as always, jokes flying out left and right and endless teasing that made you simply shake your head. Whenever there was a silence that stretched for longer than a minute, he contemplated just handing you the MP3 player. He could just say it was one of his old ones and claim it was since you seemingly liked rap so much. But he put it off.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had just jumped off your bike as you slowed down to get off when you said you and your parents were going away the last five days of summer break, which was next week.

"Angel... no." He spoke as if you had just betrayed him in the worst way possible. You could not help but crack a sheepish smile at his antics.

"It's just for five days—" You went to explain, but his mouth went wider and immediately interrupted you.

"Five days? First Min-ki, then Dong-hyun, and now you? You're all ditching me. Do you want me to go crazy and start talking to myself?" He walked closer to you, trying to stay serious, but when you began laughing lightly, he could not help but crack a smile. 

He was playing around; of course he would not die without you for five days. But he had taken notice that you, unlike many others, did not find his overdramatic joking annoying but endearing. 

"You already talk to yourself." You pointed out to him with a small smile.

"That's besides the point,"

"I will have my phone. We'll still be able to talk."

"Hm," Su-bong hummed, agreeing that did work. His hands slipped inside his pockets, his right hand gracing the MP3 player still in his pockets. 

You shook your head, grabbing the handles of your bikes and beginning to walk the short way to your home. He quickly caught up, an arm finding its way over your shoulder. He could not help but like that you did not pull away from him, letting him hook his arm around you.

"Alright, angel. Since you're ditching me, you owe me—we hang out every day until you leave. No excuses."

"Sure." You shook your head at him. "Damn drama queen."

"Hey!"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later the next week, after having hung out every day without any excuses like you agreed to, still had the MP3 player in his back pocket. He found himself taking it out of his pocket when getting home every day and fiddling with it, like trying to think of when the perfect time to give it to you would be.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the night before you were going away insisted the two of you go to the abandoned rooftop. Once there, he lit himself a cigarette as the two of you talked and joked about anything you could think about.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who raised his brows when you got a call from Soo-min as the two of you were talking. You answered without hesitation, and from how you were talking, he could tell you had not told her either about the two of you hanging out. A mischievous expression took over his face as he stepped on the cigarette.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who out of nowhere grabbed your wrist and yanked the phone towards himself so he could yell out a hello to Soo-min on the other line. You swiftly smacked him in the head with your hand as he laughed when hearing Soo-min's confused voice. You had rushed out a goodbye before turning and, while laughing, telling him it was not funny. But still, the thought of how Soo-min's face must have looked kept you both laughing for longer than it should have.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later, when you were both walking back home, pulled out the MP3 player and handed it to you. At your confused face, he explained it had some good songs on it, just to get you started on rap. Jokingly he said you would now have something good to listen to during your almost three-hour car ride the next day.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made up the excuse that the MP3 player was one of his old ones that he no longer used when you thanked him but said you could not take it. He turned away, hands in his pockets after so you could not see his face, all while shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing special. You did not say that you knew he was lying; the MP3 player looked way too new. But it made your heart swell.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day, for once during the whole summer, could not simply shoot you a text or even call to ask what you were up to because he already knew. You were in a car on your way to your grandparents. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent that first day more bored than he remembered himself being that first week of summer break. The majority of the time he spent in his room, playing games and only walking downstairs once that night when his parents were home to take up some food for himself.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day went out on his own, having talked to Dong-hyun, who were going to come back the next day, late, when it was only two days until school started again. He found himself visiting all the places that you and he would go to.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who headed for the convenience store around 11 pm, the same one you and he visited, picking out some snacks and a drink for himself. When paying, the same guy that usually worked was there. The worker glanced around the aisles while scanning everything Su-bong had picked up. 

"Where's that girlfriend of yours?" The worker, a twenty-something old guy, spoke suddenly and with a hint of curiosity. 

Su-bong, who had his earbuds in and music from his MP3 player loudly playing in his ears, did not fully hear what the guy had said. He pulled the earbuds from his ears by the cable and furrowed his brows in confusion. "Huh?"

"The girl you're always here with." The worker cleared up, then let out a slight laugh before speaking again. "What, she finally ditched you?"

"She didn't ditch me, man. She's out of town." Su-bong spoke with a hint of annoyance, having hoped it would've been a quick in-and-out of the store.

"So, she is your girlfriend."

"Mind your own business."

"Damn, touchy." The worker smirked. "Thought you'd just say no."

Su-bong grabbed the cash from his pocket and unceremoniously slammed it onto the counter, startling the guy a little. He then snatched back his soda and snacks.

"Maybe I just don't like nosy cashiers who talk too much."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, once he was outside, sat himself down on the curb and popped open the bag of snacks just as his phone began buzzing. While chewing on a chip, he picked it up with furrowed brows, but when seeing your name on the small screen, he did not hesitate to answer it. 

"Well, well, would you look at that—one might actually think you are missing me, angel."

There was a pause before you scoffed lightly on the other side of the phone. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Too late," he answered. "You've been gone less than two days, and now you are calling me first? I'm basically a priority at this point."

"You are so full of yourself."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who talked with you for almost an hour that night, getting to know all you'd done while away. He liked it, sitting and listening to you explain the things you had done with your family ever since getting to your grandparents. While talking to you, he slowly began making his way home, occasionally taking a sip or two of his soda. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent the whole day after all on his own. But he at least figured out what to do besides being outside. The majority of it consisted of him playing games and listening to music, going out to have a cigarette once. But later that night, he not only got a call from you but also a message from Dong-hyun that he was back and wanted to meet up the next day.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who even if Dong-hyun came back and they hung out the last two days of summer break, got a few texts here and there from you, as if updating him on the strangest things you could think of. But he still appreciated that you still wanted to talk, seemingly having not grown tired of him yet.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only shrugged and told Dong-hyun that his summer had been pretty uneventful. Su-bong vaguely told him that he kept himself busy while he and Min-ki were away. When Dong-hyun questioned this, saying that many of his calls had not been answered until late and that Min-ki had told him the same, as many of their mails had gone unannounced, all Su-bong did was shrug and repeat he had kept himself busy.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had to withstand Dong-hyun asking him repeatedly to actually tell him what he had been up to all summer. It was like he had become a walking headache to Su-bong; whenever he thought his friend was done asking, a new try at getting information from him was tried. Of course, Su-bong would not tell Dong-hyun and Min-ki—he respected you and did not want to have them running off and telling everyone in school on the first day, especially if you didn't want that.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who actually felt a bit bothered thinking about what would happen when school started again. He heavily disliked the thought of having to act like the two of you were not friends in school, too. With your parents, he understood, and he respected it heavily. Maybe if he did not feel the way he did for you, maybe if you were only a friend to him, it would not be such a bother. But you were not just a friend. No matter how he wanted to feel.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who were hanging out with Dong-hyun and Min-ki, who had just returned, the day before school started, felt his phone vibrate a little. When he picked it up and saw you had written that you were on your way home, he could not help but smile at knowing you would be back. It did not go unnoticed by his two friends; Dong-hyun immediately accused him of having a secret girlfriend, which made Min-ki raise his eyebrows in confusion.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went to school the next day, was immediately swept up by Dong-hyun and Min-ki, along with some of the other guys in the same class. All of them were catching up outside before even walking inside school, seeing as there was a long time till they had to actually be in class.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was deep in conversation with four other guys from your class when he spotted your familiar face. You were smiling as you slowed down your bike to park it, along with Soo-min and Ha-eun, who went to do the same. His eyes followed you as you hooked arms with Soo-min as Ha-eun was clearly telling the two of you something.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got nudged by one of your classmates, Woo-jin, asking if he was even listening. He turned his eyes to the group of boys staring back at him, saying he zoned out, and they all shrugged, but the conversation continued nonetheless.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who caught your eye as you walked past the group of boys. Upon seeing him again, you shot him a smile and a small wave with your free hand that had not been hooked with Soo-min. When Su-bong noticed, he gave a slight smile and nod of acknowledgement. A part of him warmed upon seeing you again.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had to hear Dong-hyun, Min-ki, Woo-jin, and Ji-ho ask who that nod was for, as neither of them had seen your smile. Woo-jin and Ji-ho, both confused, got caught up by Min-ki and Dong-hyun about their speculation that Su-bong had spent the summer with someone.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, once they reached their classroom, felt like he had hit the jackpot. This year he sat one row behind you, diagonally to your right, from what he saw on the seating chart drawn upon the board. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat down at his desk quietly at first, decided to sit and not speak with you if that was what you wanted, but his spirits were lifted when you spoke to him first. You had turned to him, mid-conversation with Hye-ran, smiling and saying hey.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you struck up a conversation with immediately, ignoring the confused looks on Soo-min's and Ha-eun's faces. You and Su-bong had never spoken like this before the summer. Sure, they knew you had tutored him last semester, but the two of you did not talk like this. This was new. The way you leaned closer and told about what you did those five days away.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had his conversation with you interrupted by Ha-eun, who finally asked since when you two were friends. Su-bong, who revelled in your slightly flustered expression, asked you to explain to your friends. He found it funny how when away from prying eyes, you were extremely calm, yet under the eyes of your best friends, you got flustered.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat back and listened as you, without much detail, explained how the two of you bumped into each other during the summer and hung out a few times. He wanted to laugh out loud—a few times was an understatement. It also amused him how you left out certain details, as if Soo-min and Ha-eun would lecture you about it. Dong-hyun and Min-ki both sat beside him and whispered about how this explained everything. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got asked by Ha-eun and Soo-min if your parents knew the two of you had hung out, to which silence followed. The two girls had turned to you as if you had committed a crime for not telling them this. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who out of what had now become a habit, called you "angel" in front of both your and his friends. Your eyes had widened slightly while staring straight at Su-bong, who realised, but he could not help but pull an amused smile at your flustered face. The wide eyes from your friends that followed were as far as their shock could get, however, because just as they went to loudly ask their questions, the teacher entered the classroom.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who shrugged his shoulders at you when Ha-eun and Soo-min went to sit down, your eyes still on him. For the fun of it, before the teacher could speak, he whispered a quiet "Sorry, angel" to you. The people in front and behind the two of you heard, and your face heated up even more. Before turning to focus on the teacher, you shot Su-bong a pointed look, which earned a quiet laugh.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who prepared himself for you to lecture him after school, but did not expect what you did during lunch instead.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who barely had stood up to join Min-ki and Dong-hyun before you had stood up and grabbed his arm, effectively pulling him out of the classroom before your friends could get their hands on you. Dong-hyun and Min-ki whistled at the two of you before laughing along with some other boy in the class who had overheard. Soo-min and Ha-eun tried to catch up to the two of you but failed.

"Where are we—" He had barely any chance to process where you had dragged him off to before a hand hit him over the head. "Ow!"

"What the hell were you thinking calling me that in front of everyone? The whole class, at that!" You asked as Su-bong rubbed the back of his head. He took a glance at you before giving a slight grin to you.

"What? It's not like I said anything bad. Didn't you say you didn't care about that anymore?" 

You stared at him for a moment, your face still hot from the embarrassment that had hit you when some of the boys whistled as you dragged Su-bong off. His grin made you narrow your eyes before swiftly giving him another whack.

"Ow! Calm down, woman!"

"I don't care. But you could have just let me tell Soo-min and Ha-eun properly before." You ignored his dramatics and crossed your arms. Still, your eyes softened when looking at him, but it went unnoticed by Su-bong, who started to speak.

"Well, you can’t blame me for being honest. It's not my fault you're—" Before he could get any further, he felt you gently wrap your arms over his shoulders in a quick but tight hug. 

"It's good to see you again." You said softly to him, causing his heart to beat a little faster. Then, as quickly as you had hugged him, you pulled away. The boy quickly recovered.

"Five days and you miss me that much, huh?" He speaks with a teasing tone, nudging you lightly.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't push your luck."

"You know, you could have just said you missed me without hitting me first."

"Hm, that's boring, and you deserved it."

His grin softened into something more genuine. "It's good seeing you too, angel.”

— If you guys want a part 2, please tell me; I have even more ideas for this. Also, if you have an idea that I could add in that part, I'm always open to suggestions!

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

I hope it’s okay to take a related but different turn on this. I have this happen sometimes, but I have a fun D.I.D. experience with it that I want to share.

I (Nico) write a lot of stories. It’s my primary coping mechanism for stress & trauma. That means a lot of OCs, a lot of AUs, a lot of outlines or plans for stories.

(acronyms here: Dissociative Identity Disorder (D.I.D.); Original Character (OC); Alternate Universe (AU))

However, we also have D.I.D., and because I find the most comfort in fictional stories & in characters I relate to, I often split my own OCs.

Sometimes they take over their story. I’m leaving Nightwalker’s Dream to Harley & Azure; it’s their (love) story. (Harley & Azure are fully taking over; it’s out of my hands now (/not upset).)

Sometimes people front to add something & then let me continue. Sometimes they add notes in my document/notebook of where they want the plot to go.

But sometimes, something even funnier happens. (Or something really sweet.)

I start writing a new piece, and they pop into co-con to make commentary on what I’m writing. They critique, they laugh (/supportive, positive), they smile at the sweet parts.

(co-con = co-conscious, AKA they’re awake/able to communicate but not in control of the body; co-front/front = taking over the body)

It would probably be startling to anyone without D.I.D. if your characters started talking to you / literally writing their own story. But it’s quickly becoming my favourite part of writing LucKai.

LucKai is a ship name, like in fanfic, but they’re both my OCs - Luciano (he/him) & Kairo (he/they).

Sometimes Luciano takes over. He usually adds a line or corrects phrasing (I automatically write in first person, & sometimes he’s like ‘I understand what you mean, but I’d say it like this’). Honestly that’s rather in character (he tends to be very logical, in part to hide from/avoid emotional vulnerability), so it makes sense.

But usually it’s Kai, and he’s a sap (/affectionate). He takes over to gush about his partner*. He’s a poet and his emotions spill all over the pages (/metaphor, positive). On occasion he’ll contribute something factual, especially something on trauma-informed psychology that he remembers researching for us**. But usually he’s here to brag about Luc. (That’s also in character.)

(* using partner because whether they’re mutually-crushing-in-denial, dating, or fiancés varies by story, & they’re married in our system 🤷‍♂️)

(** Kai & Spirit do most of that research so I forget the specifics 😅)

Their (Kai’s) rambles are my favourite part now. I got a whole paragraph out of him when I wrote a confession scene for one of my pieces (I can share if people wanna see). They’re the sweetest lover (/sincere, positive).

(And of course now LucKai are in the background grinning sheepishly (/amused, affectionate). They love to gush/brag about one another, but get shy if it’s acknowledged. (Not in a please-don’t way but in a yeah-I-do-that-but-now-I’m-extra-aware-of-it kind of way (/affectionate, supportive).)

But yeah, this is a thing. I get to witness my OCs write (or chime in to critique) their stories in real time. ☺💜

~Nico (he/they)

the best part of writing is when your characters start ignoring your outline and you realize they’re better at this than you.

[blubunz]

JUST TONIGHT

— bodyguard! leon s. kennedy x f! model! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: porn with plot, maybe slowburn? slight slowburn, pet names, fingering, masturbation.

A/N: a real sucker for this AU i just want myself a man like this tbh. anyways I write this when I can't sleep even though I clearly have to wake up early tomorrow. (Okay it's afternoon now um WHY IS THIS SO LONG😭 I DID NOT EXPECT IT TO BE LONG)

Throughout your career, you weren't in need for a strong, brooding figure to protect yourself, you weren't fond of having anyone watching over you — it made you feel like you're just a weak girl, a damsel in distress who always needs a knight by her side.

And you are, you need someone to be by your side and protecting you from harm. Sometimes you do reckless things, and not to mention those times where you made stupid decisions that almost cost you your life if not for Lady Luck. But Lady Luck can't stay with you forever, and you don't want to be living on edge so constantly. It makes you look like a madman and, most of all, losing sleep, bad schedule and then it escalated to affecting your career and hard work.

And that's why he's here.

You've heard of him before, not on the news, but through whispers and rumors. Of all the things you've heard from them, you're surprised how Leon isn't on the news as much, maybe he's laying low, or maybe he's working for the government, all private and redacted matters.

So then, how exactly did you manage to hire him?

For one, you're curious enough to search him up. His name isn't hard to find, and you admit he looks good, perfect for modeling. The problem is that he hardly uses social media. If he does, then maybe he goes by some other names, or he doesn't post a lot. You found out about Claire Redfield though, at first, she doesn't leave much impression to you, but the pictures she posted have that same familiar face, albeit Leon is looking like a grumpy uncle who would give bad advice to his nieces in each photo.

Once you've decided that it was enough to go stalking people's profiles, you go and make a call using your fame and broad connections in and out of your industry. You got his number in your contact within two days, and your hands are shaking as you try to call him.

It's not that you're scared of socializing, it's just that you're hesitant of making this decision, of finally have someone to protect your life, of admitting that you seek help and reassurance.

But, the possibilities of death and dark thoughts fill your mind quickly enough, and you convince yourself you need this, for your own sake.

“Hello?”

“Is this... Leon Kennedy?”

It's been a month since Leon's been here. Truth be told, he doesn't care much about how people are falling in love with you, mainly just your looks and charisma. He's heard of you many times, so many times, you keep appearing on magazines, billboards, the news, advertisements and more. God, there was this one prime time of your life where your face was practically everywhere! Not that you're no longer famous, but that was the time where your life was endangered the most by how crazy your fans were — another reason why Leon is here.

Upon interacting with you during your own time, Leon found out you're not like how the media portrays you to be. He isn't a stranger to it, seeing famous people and important figures always having to smile and maintain a certain persona for the sake of the community. Sure, you have that bit of yourself in it, but when he escorts you hone, it's when he sees your fatigue.

Your shoulders slump as you sigh, putting your bag on the coffee table as the TV is playing some shows for white noise, you're scared of the quietness — having thoughts that might hurt yourself. Leon closes the door and locks it safely, carrying your bag up to your room.

He doesn't need to do that, Leon's aware his job is to protect your life, not servicing you like a maid ir servant, but he keeps doing so, helping you with the small things like carrying your belonging, to making meals for you.

“You can't sleep now.” Leon sighs, seeing you lying on the couch, eyes closing. He doesn't want to startle you, so he picks you up and carries you into your bedroom, seating you by the make up table.

This is a change of pace for Leon, everything he does has to be careful for you. No longer picking up guns to shoot bio organism weapons or anything of the sort, instead he's now attending to a young model. Two different lives, and Leon finds himself hard to adjust, remembering the times you joke about him acting awkward sometimes when you tried to talk to him normally.

Your name comes out of his lips, sounding sweet and calm. And your eyes open, lazily rubbing off your make up while Leon prepares the bath for you.

“You don't have to do that.” You say once he steps out again, smelling a bit of the bath bomb he put in.

“I know. But, protecting your life is my job, and caring for your bare minimum needs is included.” He explains, and you just nod, not quite sure if they're connected in your mind.

Still, you let him undress you. Your cheeks flush at the way his fingers hook under your top to remove it, oh the slight contact when his hand brushes over your tits or ass. And sometimes you find it crazy how it's you that's the one being attracted to someone, and not Leon, who never advances himself on you, he doesn't even react when seeing your body, you find it weird, but intriguing too when your looks being the most important aspect of your industry, you've gotten used to the attention and the reactions.

In reality, Leon is still human, he admits your body is attractive, he wishes to lay his hands on your body with a more intimate intent, with more sensuality rather than just helping you with undressing or carrying you, his eyes linger on your skin, seeing that your body isn't that perfect as they claim to be, and he imagines himself kissing your flaws, to be the only one seeing your most intimate areas. But he's worked long enough not to let his feelings get involved, he can't bare it not after—

“You can... let me go.” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and Leon lets you go, he didn't even notice he was holding you still, zoning out and staring at the back of your neck.

“Right, sorry.” He clears his voice a little, sitting by your bed to wait for you to finish shower. He brushes a hand through his hair, finding himself longing for some alcohol to drown out this feeling. And that's also a problem. You've said you don't like the smell that lingers when he drinks, making excuses on how it affects your own scent, and people won't find you as attractive. He just stops drinking when he knows he'd have to see you later, not quitting for good, just pausing to prioritize his job — and in within case, his job means you.

Stepping in the shower, you can't help but fantasize about Leon, you can't believe that you fell for him first, and now you're imagining his hand cupping your mound, squeezing you and rubbing your clit. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed with clear displeasure on your face — your fingers aren't enough, you need a hand big like Leon's, to feel those rough pads of skin trailing down your body.

Grumbling in frustration, you go ahead and finish showering.

Leon finishes checking over the securities and ensuring that no one was lurking near your home, he get back to the living room only to see you in your robe, making some tea for yourself.

“Tea?” You ask, passing him the cup before he could say anything.

“Thanks.” He swallows, eyes flickering to your form hidden under the thin silk robe painted by your favorite color, somehow seeing your body like this is much more arousing than when you strip down naked, it teases his desire, and it leaves him chasing that tantalizing image. You catch his lingering gaze, and your eyes twinkle with a hopeful glea. Maybe he likes you too? Even if he's attracted to your looks, you can work your way with making him love you fully. After all, he's the only one who sees you in your most vulnerable moments. He's special, and you let him know of that privilege.

You head off to your room, with him following behind. Leon helps you with closing the curtains and removing your robe, palms firmly rubbing your shoulders. You shiver, letting the garment pool at your feet before seating on your bed in just your lingerie.

Leon tucks you in, and every time he does things like this, he gives you that flutter in your stomach, god, it's always the little things that get to you.

“Goodnight—”

“Leon, wait.” You reach up, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, and he looks at you with an unchanged expression.

“Yes?”

“Um...” You hesitate, will Leon find this weird? No, no, maybe you can make an excuse, saying that you're too paranoid. “Can you... stay in my room? Just tonight?”

Leon nods without hesitation or any questions. He sits by the chair near your makeup table and plans to just read something to pass the time.

“No, not there.” You say, your voice sounding abrupt as you try your best not to appear so needy. But you can't. You're just naturally so. “In my bed, please?”

Leon bites the inside of his cheeks to hold back his smile, you sound so cute with the little "please" as a cherry on top. He complies, sitting at the edge of your bed, a hand on your ankle.

“Is this good enough for you, princess?” He smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Or do you want me to hold you close, hm? Protect you from the monsters, yeah?”

“That... That wouldn't be a bother.” You murmur, and Leon takes it to heart, taking off his jacket and crawling up to your side. Leon gets you on his lap, pushing your head against his shoulder.

“Better?” He asks, voice muffled from his lips pressed against your hair, smelling your shampoo.

You nod, hiding your flustered face in Leon's shoulder, that elicits a laugh from him and he brushes your hair. He rubs your back soothingly, feeling your body relaxes under his grip.

Leon traces his hand down to your lower back, kneeding your soft buttocks. You take a sharp inhale, subtly pushing up against his palm.

His eyebrow raises, smirking against your hair before rubbing your thighs, and you spread your legs open for him. Leon doesn't say anything and just watches your reaction. He can feel you breathing down his neck. Your heart picks up its pace in excitement.

“Do you like this?” He keeps the pace slow, rubbing up to the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm...” You nod.

“Want more?”

“Mhm.” You nod again.

He hooks his finger under the band, and pulls the garment down, enough to let his hand slide in, brushing just over the top near your aching clit.

The moment his middle finger presses against your bud, you moan, hips twitching against his palm.

“Have you been dreaming about this?” Leon asks, and you only whimper in response. His finger moves down, collecting your juices and pulling out, tasting your essence on his finger.

“Me too.” Leon admits, and he shoves his hand back to your cunt, pushing a finger through your entrance.

“I've been wanting this too. Even more, wanna feel this tight cunt around my dick instead.” He groans, the way your walls tighten around his finger is enough to make his cock leaking pre-cum. “Fuck— you're so tight already, hm? I bet you cum with just my fingers.”

You mewl, hips rutting against his palm, and Leon pushes another finger in, spreading your pussy open so that you can fit his cock.

“Oh, god, Leonnnnn!” Your eyes roll up as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt, juices drooling down his hand. “Mngh, f-fuck—”

“Good girl.” Leon whispers, kissing down your neck whilst your body trembles, shaking high in pleasure. “That's it.”

His thumb rubbing harshly against your clit, making your whines higher and higher, you sound so needy and desperate, an side of you that you don't want anyone to see — anyone but Leon.

Leon grunts, feeling your juices dampening his pants, right against his bulge. His cock throbbing in his pants, just aching to pound that tight pussy of yours. But he puts you first, making you cum and high in ecstasy.

“Mm, gonna cum, baby?” He coos, feeling your cunt clamping down his fingers. “Cum, baby, be a good girl and cum f' me.” He increases the pace and intensity of his thrusts, dreaming of them being his cock instead.

You moan loudly as you squirt against his palm, and your knees buckle, legs shaking and body trembling as you collapse on his body.

“Gooood girl.” Leon kisses your forehead, rubbing your back with a free hand while he sucks off your juices from his fingers. “Now, ready for the main event?”

You feel his cock twitches under you, and you can feel yourself heating up again. You gulp, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against his bulge.

“Yeah.”

[voyter]

STAGED FOR THE SEASON ! ... christmas special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

going back home for the holidays meant facing his ex — the one he still couldn’t let go of. determined to win her back and spark a little jealousy, he brought you along… as his fake girlfriend.

word count. 18.3k warnings. fake dating au. angst. friends to lovers. jk not over his ex. FLIRTING !! TENSION !! jungkook comes to his senses a lot in this. angst. lots of teasing. smut. unprotected sex. oral (both!receiving). quiet sex hehe. munch jk again sorry i love an eater. a little male masturbation. he looks at her while he strokes it bites lip. dom!jk (still a sub enthusiast tho). oh did i mention angst ?

ana's notes. merry christmas in february !! im crying THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING. i swear this was originally supposed to be posted in december, but i ended scrapping after scrapping. that led to the writing taking much longer than i thought it would and i actually still hate this LMFAO but i did not spend all that time on this just to not post it. so here it is. just .. here JUST TAKE IT. next fic will make up for this mess, i promise x

Jungkook was a wild individual, his life practically a highlight reel of impulsive decisions and stories that somehow always ended with him escaping a war. From his childhood to his teenage years and everything in between, you’d heard your fair share of them — events so absurd that you sometimes questioned if they were even real.

But as wild and ridiculous as those stories were, nothing could have prepared you for what he was saying right now.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for Christmas.”

You froze, staring at him in pure bewilderment. It was so random — like, literally, what the fuck?

The two of you had been lounging comfortably on your couch, a shared blanket draped across your laps as you caught up on each other's lives. The conversation had been perfectly ordinary. He’d just asked about your holiday plans, and you’d told him you were spending your holiday break from work in your apartment.  

And then he said this, like it was nothing.  

Now, judging by the way you were looking at him — eyes wide, utterly dumbfounded — Jungkook couldn’t tell if there was a ghost standing behind him or if his question was genuinely out of pocket.

Jungkook shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Well?”  

You blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his words. Is he okay? ���I’m sorry?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but just hear me out,” he said, sitting upright in one swift motion, his previously slouched posture disappearing as if the words themselves had straightened his spine. “I’m going home for the holidays, and you know how my mom is close friends with my ex's mom, right?”  

“Mhm…” you hum slowly, even though you already know where this is headed.

“Well, my mom invited her over on Christmas… and Misa’s gonna be there,” he says, the words spilling out like a reluctant confession. His gaze shifts to the floor, as though the hardwood could offer him some kind of solace or escape from your reaction. There’s a slight edge to his voice, like he’s bracing himself for your judgment, and his fingers tug at the thread on his jeans.  

“Kook…” Your voice drops to a quieter tone, heavy with exasperation, before a sigh escapes your lips.  

Now, you’ve heard that name a few times. And each time you did, it felt like an unwanted stone hurled into calm waters, rippling outward until it disrupted everything.  

You didn’t dislike Misa herself — how could you, when you’d never even met her? What you couldn’t stand was the effect her name had on Jungkook. It wasn’t just sadness or nostalgia that overtook him; it was something deeper, something heavier. Like a wound that had never fully healed, her name had the power to knock the air out of him, leaving him raw and vulnerable every time.

The first time you heard of Misa was through Jimin and Taehyung. According to them, Jungkook and Misa had been childhood friends who started dating in high school. But that love didn’t survive graduation. They were heading to different universities — she to Ulsan, and him in Seoul — and while Jungkook had begged her to make it work, she never wanted to do long distance. It was practical, maybe even logical, but it had wrecked him.

Jungkook never pursued relationships after her; he didn’t see the point. Love, in his eyes, was a gamble he wasn’t willing to take again. Instead, he sought out fleeting connections with girls he found attractive, indulging in temporary pleasures without the weight of commitment. It wasn’t fair, and deep down, he knew it. But as messed up as it was, he couldn’t stop himself.  

Because he didn’t want to love anyone else.  

Love had burned him once — left him raw, scarred, and reluctant to open that part of himself again. It was easier this way, safer. No expectations, no vulnerability, no chance of heartbreak. Just meaningless hookups that kept the loneliness at bay for a little while.  

“You already know what I’m going to say,” he says quietly, his voice subdued yet heavy with expectation.  

“Yeah, I do,” you snap back, unable to hide the sharp edge in your tone. There’s a bite of attitude behind your words, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

And of course, you do. He wanted you to come with him, to play the part, to make her jealous. Everything Jungkook did seemed to circle back to her. Every action, every thought, every breath — it all revolved around Misa. She was an unshakable presence in his life, even in her absence, consuming his every waking second.  

And that’s what stung. Not for yourself, but for him. Because she wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place if she thought about him the way he still thought about her. If she cared even a fraction as much as he still does.  

You could only stare at him, your expression a mixture of pity and quiet disappointment. He had so much to give, so much love that could be directed toward someone who might actually deserve it. Yet here he was, stuck in a loop, still thinking about someone who chose to let him go.  

“I know,” he says softly. And the worst part? He really does know. He knows exactly what you’re thinking because he’s heard it all before. And it frustrates you to no end because knowing and doing are two very different things.

You’ve never held back from telling him exactly how you feel. As one of his best friends, you had every right to be upset about it. Watching him go through girls like they’re disposable wasn’t just reckless; it was self destructive. You’d made it painfully clear how detrimental it was for him to still be hung up on his ex, and even more so to avoid meaningful connections altogether. But despite your blunt honesty, Jungkook has never made an effort to truly change.

He never takes the time to get to know the women he hooks up with — it’s always a simple fuck and go. It’s a vicious cycle that leaves no room for growth or healing. But Jungkook’s stubbornness is both his armor and his downfall.

Before you could scold him, you catch yourself. You take a breath, reminding yourself that emotions, especially Jungkook’s, aren’t something he can just flip on and off. Instead of letting your frustration bubble over, you pause, choosing empathy. You let yourself step into his shoes, imagining the weight he must carry, the way old memories cling like cobwebs in the corners of his mind.

Jungkook has always been there for you, through thick and thin.

Now, it was your turn to return the favor.

“I’ll do it,” you said, finally breaking the heavy silence.

His head snapped up so fast you flinched, half expecting him to pull a muscle. His hair bounced with the sudden movement, and his eyes were wide, shining with a mix of disbelief and cautious hope. “Really?”

“This is very stupid, Jungkook,” you replied, your tone firm but tinged with a resigned gentleness.  

“It is,” he agreed without hesitation, nodding like a chastised child. Because he knew you were right — it was stupid, immature even. The two of you were grown adults for crying out loud, and here he was asking you to fake being his girlfriend just to get under his ex’s skin.

You only sighed, the weight of your decision settling over you. “Then I guess we should lay down some boundaries,” you said, your voice steady, though your stomach churned with unease.  

His face lit up with a bright, almost childlike smile, his eyes sparkling with hope. He still couldn’t believe you were agreeing to this. “Right-”

“I’m not kissing you,” you interrupted, your tone firm.

The joy drained from his face in an instant, replaced by pure, unfiltered horror. “What? No one is going to believe us if you don’t let me kiss you!”  

“Then we’ll just say we aren’t comfortable with PDA,” you countered with a shrug, as if it were the simplest solution in the world.  

“I always kissed Misa in front of our parents!” he argued, a faint whine creeping into his voice.

“Then we’ll say I’m not comfortable with PDA,” you shot back, emphasizing your words. “Kook, I just don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly nodded. As much as he hated the idea of limiting the act, he understood where you were coming from. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. “Fine. Can I at least kiss you on the cheek?”  

“Yeah,” you said, offering a small smile.  

“Great,” he replied, perking up slightly. “We must be touching at all times. I was always very clingy with Misa, so it needs to look natural…”  

You almost grimaced at the thought. You let out a long sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. Touching at all times. But keep your hands where I can see them.”  

“Relax,” Jungkook said with a grin, leaning back smugly. “I’m not a perv. Maybe we should practice-”

“If you touch me, I will hit you,” you cut him off, glaring.

Days after your little agreement with Jungkook, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, the heater humming softly as it worked to fight the cold winter air that seeped through the windows. The trunk was packed tightly with your bags, a visible reminder of the journey ahead, and the winding highway stretched endlessly before you under the dull gray sky.  

Initially, the plan was simple: head to Busan on Christmas day, just in time for dinner. But Jungkook’s mom insisted that you both arrive a day earlier to rest after the long drive. The suggestion didn’t bother you — in fact, it seemed practical. Yet, it also meant one extra day to brace yourself for the moment you’d stand beside Jungkook as he faced the girl who broke his heart.

With an acrylic nail caught between your teeth, you stared out the window, taking in the scenery as it changed around you. It didn’t snow here; the air was crisp, the breeze carried faint traces of salt from the sea. The bustling cityscape of Seoul was a stark contrast to the quieter, more laid back atmosphere of Busan. You found yourself admiring the differences, marveling at how a different part of Korea could feel so distinct yet familiar.

The person beside you was lost in thought, grappling with something entirely different.

In just about a day, Jungkook would come face to face with the girl he once swore was the love of his life — the one who had ruined love for him. Nine years ago. Almost an entire era of his existence had passed since they last saw each other, back when he was just a seventeen year old kid. She had been the center of his world once, and even after she broke up with him, she still lingered in his mind.

During the midst of the long drive, you’d fallen asleep. The steady hum of the car and the rhythm of the road had cradled you into a peaceful slumber. But as the journey came to an end, so did your nap, when you felt a gentle pressure on your arm.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the soft glow of the garage door in front of the driveway. You blinked a few times, your vision adjusting to the new surroundings, before pulling your headphones off your head.

“Sleep well?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze of sleep, his smirk evident even before you looked at him.

“Mmm, sitting up and with my neck bent? Slept so good,” you tease, a sarcastic smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you stretch your stiff limbs.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful edge to his response. He presses the button to turn off the car. “Let’s go inside. I’m fucking beat,” he says, his voice casual, but the tiredness in his tone betrays how much he’s ready to be done with the drive.

You stretch one more time, a satisfying crack running down your spine as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You glance out the window, your eyes falling on Jungkook’s childhood home. It’s a beautiful house, its exterior glowing warmly under the lights, casting long shadows. 

It’s a home that likely holds countless memories for him. You can almost imagine the sound of laughter, of family dinners and the warmth of his parents’ love. The kind of place where so many moments, both small and monumental, are tucked away in corners.

“Coming?” Jungkook calls, his voice carrying a teasing edge. You snap your head toward him, catching the sight of him leaning down, his head poking just enough from the car door so he can see you clearly. His mischievous grin matches the playful tone in his voice. “Or you gonna sleep in here some more?”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Keep fucking with me, and I’ll drive your car back home and leave you here,” you warn, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He clicks his tongue in mock frustration, rolling his eyes dramatically, clearly amused by your threat. “Girl, hurry up,” he retorts, the playful irritation in his tone betraying how little he actually means it.

You chuckle before you grab your purse and swing the door open. The cold air rushes in, sharp and biting against your skin, but you barely notice as the playful tension between the two of you lingers in the space between the car and the house.

You shut the car door with a soft thud before making your way to the back of the car. Jungkook is already there, pulling out the suitcases like it’s second nature — his sleek black one in one hand and your unmistakeable pink one in the other.

“I could’ve got it myself, you know,” you say, reaching out to press the button that automatically closes the trunk.

“Sure you could’ve,” he quips without missing a beat, effortlessly balancing both suitcases as if they weigh nothing. “But I can’t have my girlfriend going around carrying her stuff. That’s what I’m here for.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, though the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrays your true feelings. You two weren’t even inside yet and he was already playing boyfriend. “You’re annoying.”

Jungkook merely smirks, adjusting his grip on the luggage with practiced ease. "Yet, here you are," he teases, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. Without waiting for a reply, he strides past you, carrying both suitcases as if they weighed nothing. Of course, he wasn't just dragging them by the wheels; Jungkook wouldn't dare let them get scratched up. He doesn't even glance back as he says over his shoulder, "And you can't say that to me. I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

You let out a soft laugh, biting back a retort, and simply trail after him, the cold breeze nips at your cheeks as the warmth of his playful energy draws you closer.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon not long before you woke up. The neighborhood was peaceful, a stark contrast to the buzz of the city you were used to. It felt like time moved slower here, as if everyone respected the rhythm of each other's lives. The only sound came from the faint crunch of pavement beneath your Uggs, a small echo that followed you as you walked behind Jungkook toward the front door.

Jungkook reached the door first, the suitcases set down on each side of him as he pressed the doorbell. The sound of the melodic chime was faint but clear, cutting through the stillness of the night. You barely had a second to process it before the door swung open.

The first thing that hit you wasn't the warmth of the house or the inviting scent of cinnamon, pumpkin spice candles, or the faint pine from the Christmas tree you could see in the distance.

No, it was her.

The woman who opened the door was stunning. She stood there, framed by the doorway, dressed elegantly in a red blouse that complemented her bold, perfectly applied red lipstick. Her silky, dark hair fell in long waves around her shoulders, each strand catching the soft glow of the porch light. Her skin was radiant, practically glowing, free of any signs of age or stress — you just knew her husband didn’t stress her out.

"Ah, finally! I was wondering when you'd be here," she exclaims, her voice warm and inviting as she immediately pulls Jungkook into a hug.

"Hi, Ma," he chuckles softly, his tone affectionate and familiar.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to plant a kiss on his cheek, her smile widening as she takes a moment to admire her youngest son. Her eyes then shift to you, and her expression brightens even more. It's as if she already knows you, her warmth extending effortlessly as she steps forward and wraps you in a hug without hesitation.

You glance up at Jungkook over her shoulder, and he's already mouthing a quick, sheepish apology behind her back. Caught off guard, you freeze for a moment, but the comforting scent of her home wafting from her brings you ease. You lean into the hug, letting her warmth envelop you.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, finding your hands and holding them. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says softly, saying your name in a tone that feels so sweet, so genuine, that it tugs at your chest. Her gaze is filled with awe, as if she’s seeing someone she’s already heard so much about, and the kindness in her eyes makes you smile despite yourself.

"It's nice to meet you, too," you chuckle softly, your voice warm and genuine. Her kindness is infectious, and you can't help but feel at ease. "Thank you for having me over," you add, meaning every word.

"Oh, of course!" she exclaims, her excitement bubbling over as she grabs your hands tighter. "I'm so glad you could make it. It's been far too long since I've seen this one with someone."

"Mom," Jungkook says, his tone edged with a mixture of embarrassment and impatience, ready for her to end her swooning.

"Alright, alright," she relents, though the affectionate smile on her face doesn't waver. Releasing your hands, she gestures toward the doorway with a gentle nudge at your shoulder.

"You two must be tired. Let's get you inside."

You step forward as she guides you in, the warmth of her gesture matching the atmosphere inside. Jungkook stays a step behind, standing at the side of the doorway to let you and his mom enter first.

The moment you step inside, the welcoming heat of the house envelops you, melting away the lingering cold that clings stubbornly to your layers of sweaters. With a quiet sigh of relief, you slip off your shoes, letting the warmth of the carpet floors guide you further in. Each step feels like an invitation, the comforting atmosphere drawing you deeper into its embrace.

The living room greets you with a cozy glow, the Christmas tree taking center stage. It's adorned with ornaments, from handmade crafts to glimmering baubles, all illuminated by warm string lights that cast soft reflections onto the nearby walls.

The kitchen's dim lighting spills softly into the space, complementing the golden ambiance. Picture frames hang on the walls, each one a memory.

Mrs. Jeon dismisses you both, urging you two to go upstairs and wind down before dinner. You and Jungkook hum in acknowledgment before he starts up the stairs, his hands gripping the handles of the luggage. You follow closely behind, your pace matching his slower one as he hauls the bags up. The steps creak softly beneath your weight, and your eyes wander to the walls, taking in the baby pictures framed and lined up with care.  

“You were such a cute kid,” you tease, a fond smile curling your lips. “What happened?”  

Jungkook glances back at you, feigning offense. “Don’t act like I’m ugly now.”  

“I didn’t say you were,” you reply sweetly, trailing just behind him.

“So, I’m not ugly?” Jungkook asks, setting his suitcase on the ground before turning the knob and pushing open the door to his bedroom.  

“That’s also not what I said,” you reply, a hint of amusement in your tone.  

He picks up his suitcase again, carrying it into the room and placing it neatly beside your pink one. “Kind of is,” he teases, his words drawn out as if savoring the moment. “Keep it up, and I might start thinking you have a crush on me.”  

“Ugh,” you groan dramatically, scrunching your nose. “You wish.”  

He chuckles, the sound light and carefree, as he strides over to his nightstand and flicks on the lamp.  

The warm glow washes over the room, casting a nostalgic ambiance. Your eyes sweep across his childhood bedroom, taking in the details. Posters of anime characters and superheroes still cling to the blue-painted walls, a testament to the boy he once was. Shelves crammed with trophies, medals, and action figures line one side of the room, proudly showcasing his accomplishments and hobbies. In the corner by the window sits a desk, cluttered yet organized, as if it had been left untouched since his teenage years. It’s clear Jungkook’s mom hadn’t touched his room all these years, preserving it like a time capsule of his youth.  

"I guess one of us is taking the floor," you remark, breaking the silence as you shut the door behind you.

Your eyes flick to the bed in the center of the room, the blue-and-white striped comforter tucked neatly over the mattress. It's spacious — easily big enough for two.

Jungkook turns toward you, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I'll take the floor," he says, his tone light but certain, as if he's already resigned himself to the discomfort.

Despite all the teasing and playful banter you two always fall into, moments like this remind you of who Jungkook truly is: thoughtful, selfless, and entirely too earnest for his own good.  

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter now, tinged with hesitation.  

He nods firmly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

You return his smile, stepping closer to the bed and carefully placing your purse on the neatly made comforter. Sharing a bed with Jungkook wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world, but it still felt like a line — one you weren’t entirely sure either of you wanted to cross.

The brief tension in the room dissolves as Jungkook clears his throat, shifting the atmosphere back to something more neutral. He moves to unpack his suitcase, crouching to place it on the floor, his hands working through the neatly folded clothes inside. You lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight.  

Grabbing your own suitcase, you busy yourself as well, the sound of zippers and rustling fabric filling the space. The simplicity of it feels grounding, a quiet prelude to the whirlwind you both know is coming.  

The rest of the evening unfolds seamlessly.

After unpacking, you and Jungkook join his parents for dinner, the warm glow of the dining room making everything feel cozy and intimate. The food is delicious — homemade and hearty — and the conversation flows easily. You find yourself genuinely enjoying their company, feeling more at home than you expected.  

After dinner, you help clear the table despite Jungkook’s insistence that you relax, and his mother beams at you in gratitude. By the time you and Jungkook finally head upstairs, your stomach is full, your cheeks are sore from smiling, and a comfortable warmth lingers in your chest.  

While Jungkook was in the bathroom, unwinding for the night, you stood in his bedroom, slipping into something more comfortable for sleep.

Reaching behind your neck, you unclasped the last of your accessories, your fingers brushing over the familiar chain. And that's when you felt it — the delicate metal snapping apart in your hands.

Your breath hitched as you stared down at the broken necklace, your heart sinking. The piece that had been passed down to you, the one that meant so much, now lay in two fragile halves in your palm.

“No!” you exclaim, your voice sharp and panicked.

Jungkook appears in the doorway within seconds, his brows furrowed with concern, his hair falling into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks, scanning the room as if preparing for the worst. 

“Oh, nothing, sorry,” you pout, holding up the broken chain in your hand, the delicate locket dangling from your fingertips. “My necklace just broke.” Your tone is softer now, but the frustration and sadness are evident. 

Jungkook steps closer, his expression softening as his eyes fall on the piece of jewelry. “Let me see,” he says, his voice calm and steady. 

You hand him the chain, its links split cleanly apart, and the locket, small and aged, but clearly well-loved. His fingers brush yours as he takes it, inspecting the damage with a gentle touch. 

“I’ll get you a new one,” he offers without hesitation, his voice firm with intent. 

You shake your head, though you can’t help but smile at his kindness. “Thanks, but it’s okay,” you say, your voice carrying a bittersweet note. “It was my grandma’s. She gave it to me before she passed.”  

His gaze shifts from the broken chain to your face, his expression softening further. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low and apologetic. 

“Don’t be,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s a feeble attempt to deflect, and you know it. So does Jungkook. He’s perceptive like that — always has been. But instead of pressing the matter, he lets it slide, his silence a quiet mercy.

You walk toward your toiletry bag sitting on the dresser, rummaging through it in search of your lotion. Behind you, Jungkook sneakily pockets the broken necklace without a word.

Without hesitation, he heads for the closet, his movements fluid and unhurried as he retrieves a couple of comforters, draping them over his arm.  

He drops the bundle onto the floor beside the bed and crouches down, carefully arranging his makeshift sleeping area. The soft rustle of fabric fills the room as he spreads one comforter out as a base, smoothing over the creases with practiced ease.  

“You really don’t have to do that,” you murmur, your voice gentle as you settle onto the bed, watching him.  

Jungkook glances up at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “It’s fine,” he replies, the simplicity of his words carrying an unspoken certainty.  

You observe him as he finishes setting up, his movements unbothered, almost second nature. When he finally stretches out on the floor, arms folded behind his head, he looks far too relaxed for someone who willingly chose the hardwood over the comfort of the bed.  

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising a brow, your tone laced with amusement.

“As comfortable as the floor can get,” he jokes, running a hand through his hair with an easy grin.  

You shake your head, chuckling softly, but the warmth spreading through your chest lingers — a quiet appreciation for his effort.  

The room settles into a comfortable silence, the muffled hum of the night pressing in through the walls. The faint scent of fresh linens mingles with the soft sweetness of your lotion, wrapping around you like a gentle cocoon. You tug the covers higher, the warmth seeping into your skin as your gaze drifts downward.  

Jungkook lies sprawled out on the makeshift bed, his face partially illuminated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The golden light casts soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, highlighting the quiet ease in his features. There’s something unreadable in his expression, but the calmness about him is infectious, settling over you like a lull.  

“Mom told me she likes you a lot,” he says suddenly, his voice low and steady, breaking the stillness.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “Oh, really?” you ask, aiming for a casual tone, though the slight waver in your voice betrays your curiosity.  

He nods, resting his head on one hand, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice soft yet laced with amusement. "She said I should treat you well… so I don’t lose a good thing."  

His words linger between you, unexpected yet undeniably warm. A surprised smile tugs at your lips as heat creeps up your neck, spreading faster than you’d like. You glance away, attempting to play it cool. "That’s really sweet of her," you say, keeping your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "But how exactly are we going to break it to her that your beautiful, amazing, perfect girlfriend… isn’t actually your girlfriend?"  

Jungkook huffs a small, disbelieving laugh, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We’ll figure that out soon,” he says, voice low and certain. “For now… don’t worry about it.”

You wake up abruptly, blinking against the morning light streaming through the curtains. Your mind feels hazy, and you can’t quite piece together the moments before you fell asleep. Sitting up, you glance toward the floor, only to find Jungkook’s makeshift bed empty and disheveled.

Right on cue, the door creaks open, and in walks Jungkook. Your breath catches in your throat. His hair is damp, droplets clinging to the strands and dripping onto his broad shoulders. A towel hangs precariously low on his hips, barely covering enough. His tattooed arm, ink running from his shoulder down to his fingers, flexes as he pushes the door shut behind him. Your gaze betrays you, trailing down the contours of his chest, his toned abs glistening with water droplets, and further down to the deep V-line teasing just above the towel’s edge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice casual as if he isn’t standing there half-naked and looking like a walking thirst trap.

“You’re naked,” you mock.

He glances down at himself, running a hand lazily down his abs, a motion that only emphasizes his physique. “Nope, I’ve got a towel on.” His lips curl into a smirk as he meets your gaze. “Why? You tryna see more?”

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your face as you yank the blanket over your head, effectively shielding yourself from the sight.

“I’m kidding!” he laughs, his voice rich with amusement, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

After a moment of muffled indignation, you peek out from the safety of your blanket. Jungkook has turned to his dresser, his back muscles shifting and flexing with every movement as he searches for clothes. You hesitate, your gaze lingering longer than it should, admiring the way the morning light outlines the definition of his shoulders and back.  

“Are you done staring, or should I pose for a picture?” he teases without turning around, his voice laced with playful smugness.

You groan, throwing yourself back against the pillows. “Unbelievable.”  

He chuckles again, pulling out a sweater and jeans. “Relax. I’ll get dressed in the bathroom.” He tosses a wink over his shoulder before heading back out, leaving you alone to cool down your burning cheeks and racing heart.  

The room feels quieter once he’s gone, but his presence lingers in the charged air, heavy and undeniable. You throw the blanket off with a sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in your mind. His teasing smirk, the droplets of water trailing down his skin, the way he stood there so casually — it was all too much.  

You stand abruptly, the need to escape the confined space overwhelming. The cool floor beneath your feet grounds you slightly as you make your way to the door. Heading downstairs feels like the only option, the only way to clear your head and put some distance between yourself and the overwhelming presence of Jungkook.  

The staircase creaks softly under your weight as you descend, the faint hum of morning activity filtering up from the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifts through the air, warm and inviting, a contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you.  

The open space of the living room feels like a relief, but the image of him lingers in your mind, unshakable. You take a deep breath, your steps slower now as you reach the kitchen, hoping the steady rhythm of the house will settle the tension knotting in your chest.  

But even as you move through the familiar space, you can’t help the way your thoughts betray you, replaying the moments upstairs. The sight of him, so effortless, so... distracting. You shake your head, trying to push it all away, determined to focus on anything else as the morning unfolds.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of someone moving around greets you. Mrs. Jeon is already up, a warm smile on her face as she spots you. "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I did. Thank you."

Her smile widens, and she hands you a steaming mug of coffee. "Good. Jungkook's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Not yet."

Oh, he definitely already was. But she didn’t need to know that.

She chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you take a sip of the coffee she brewed for you. You savor the drink, the warmth spreading through your chest, and just as you’re about to compliment her coffee making skills, Mrs. Jeon speaks first, her voice breaking the silence.  

"So, I assume you know who's coming over tonight?" she asks. Her gaze meets yours briefly, a knowing look flickering in her eyes.

The question catches you mid-sip, and you lower your mug slowly, nodding in quiet acknowledgment. You haven't fully unpacked the weight of what's to come tonight, but denying it feels pointless now.

Mrs. Jeon's expression softens, the corners of her lips curving into a kind, almost maternal smile. "I'm sorry, honey," she says, her tone gentle but sincere.

“No, there’s no need to apologize,” you reply, doing your best to sound steady, even as a flicker of unease gnaws at the edges of your composure. “It’s… really okay.”  

“Surely it isn’t,” she says softly. “If circumstances were different, I wouldn’t have put you in this situation in a heartbeat.”  

Her words hit you harder than you expect, stirring emotions you weren't prepared to confront. It's like a sudden weight pressing down on your chest, an ache that you can't quite place. You swallow hard, the once comforting warmth of your coffee now tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft and measured. Your gaze falls to your mug, fingers curling tighter around it, as though its warmth might quiet the unease swirling in your chest. After a pause, you add, "I really appreciate it, but as long as Jungkook’s okay, I’ll be okay."

Mrs. Jeon hums, the sound warm and heartfelt, a quiet acknowledgment of your sincerity. “You’re a good one,” she says, breaking the silence. “Jungkook’s been through a lot over the years. Seeing him happy like this... it makes me happy, too. So, thank you — for being there for him.”

The words strike a chord, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of guilt twist in your stomach. You glance up at her, her kind eyes meeting yours, and it takes everything in you to keep your composure. She believes you’re the reason for Jungkook’s happiness, that your relationship with him is real, and the weight of that misunderstanding feels heavier than ever.

“It’s nothing, really,” you say, though your voice wavers ever so slightly. “I care about him a lot and he’s always been there for me, too.”  

She offers a genuine smile, her expression warm and inviting, but before she can say anything more, the soft creak of footsteps descending the stairs catches both your attention. You glance toward the staircase just as Jungkook comes into view, his presence commanding.  

He’s dressed casually yet somehow manages to look effortlessly put together in a beige knitted cardigan layered over a plain white tee, paired with light-washed baggy jeans that hang perfectly on his frame. His hair, still damp from his recent shower, clings to his forehead in soft strands.

The morning light streaming through the windows catches the subtle sheen of water in his hair, making him look... warm, almost domestic in a way that feels oddly intimate. He steps forward, sock-covered feet brushing against the floor, and suddenly, it feels like the air in the room has shifted.

"Speaking of the devil," Mrs. Jeon teases, her playful smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow in your direction.

You let out a soft giggle, as you lift the mug to your lips. The warmth of the coffee spreads through you, rich and comforting, a small distraction from the nervous flutter in your chest. It's delicious, just like everything else she's prepared since you arrived, a subtle testament to her care and hospitality.

"Oh, talking about me already?" Jungkook's voice pulls your attention as he strolls into the kitchen.

"Only the good things," Mrs. Jeon replies warmly, turning to grab a mug from the cabinet. She reaches for the coffee pot and fills the mug, steam curling into the air. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Morning, Ma," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

Then, without warning, Jungkook steps closer, wrapping his arm casually around your shoulders. Before you can react, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, the soft warmth of his lips lingering far longer in your mind than on your skin.

If Mrs. Jeon weren't standing right there, you would've shoved him away playfully. Instead, you do the only thing you can — lean into the moment, letting the weight of his arm anchor you in this charade.

Mrs. Jeon's smile doesn't falter as she watches the two of you, her gaze warm and affectionate. She hands the coffee to Jungkook, who mutters a soft thank you before taking a sip, his arm still comfortably draped around your shoulders.

He’s good at this — too good. The way his smile comes so effortlessly, the way his body instinctively leans into yours as though it’s second nature, makes it almost impossible to remember that this is all just an act, a carefully crafted part of the plan.  

You thought this would be easy. After all, Jungkook had always been just Jungkook to you — a friend, a constant presence, someone familiar and safe. But now, with the memory of his bare torso lingering stubbornly in your mind, your cheeks flush at the worst moments, and your thighs press together involuntarily when the thought sneaks back in.  

Mrs. Jeon moves gracefully around the kitchen, her voice warm and full of life as she talks about plans for the day. You nod and hum in agreement, but your mind is far away. Guilt churns like a storm in your chest, heavy and unrelenting, rising anew every time Mrs. Jeon sends a kind, approving smile your way.  

When she looks at you, it’s with such pride, as though she’s thrilled her son has found someone like you. And for a fleeting second, you almost wish it were true. You wish you could live up to the image of the person she clearly thinks you are. But you’re not. You’re just playing a part in a story she doesn’t know is fake.  

Jungkook’s hand rests casually on the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your shoulder lightly, as if to remind you that he’s there. The touch should be comforting — it is comforting — but it also sets your nerves on fire. The warmth of him, so close, so steady, only makes the tightness in your chest worse.

The room is suffocating despite its cozy charm. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling breakfast mingles in the air, but it’s not enough to drown out the heaviness in your heart. Still, you press forward, past the discomfort and the guilt. If nothing else, you remind yourself, you’re doing this for him.

What was once a quiet, serene home now buzzes with warmth, laughter, and conversation. The lively energy catches you off guard, and before you can fully take it in, a high-pitched voice squeals through the air.

"Kookie!"

Your attention snaps to the source just as Jungkook's face lights up, his entire demeanor shifting into something softer, more playful.

"Jihyun!" he calls back, crouching slightly and stretching his arms wide open in anticipation.

A little girl, no older than four, comes bounding into view. She's dressed in an adorable red blouse and a denim skirt, her two space buns bouncing as she sprints toward him. Without hesitation, she flings herself into his waiting arms, colliding with him in a way that makes him stumble back a step with a playful groan.

He lifts her effortlessly, holding her securely against him as she giggles wildly. "I missed you so much," he murmurs into her shoulder, his voice tender and full of adoration.

"Me too!" she replies, her small arms wrapping tightly around his neck. The pure joy in her voice makes your chest ache in the sweetest way.

You can't help but smile as you watch the interaction, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of Jungkook so effortlessly in his element. The way he holds her, talks to her, and grins from ear to ear — it's a side of him you don't get to see often, and it's undeniably endearing.

She pulls back slightly, her tiny hands still gripping Jungkook's shoulders as she admires his face with a bright smile. You can't help but admire her in return — her big, glossy boba eyes are so reminiscent of Jungkook's that it makes your heart squeeze. She's adorable, with a lively sparkle in her gaze and a face that's impossible not to love.

Jungkook glances at you, catching your gaze as he tilts his head slightly, silently beckoning you closer. You step forward, your hand naturally resting on his bicep as you meet his gentle smile.

"Nini, say hi," Jungkook coaxes softly, bouncing her in his arms just enough to make her giggle.

The little girl turns her attention to you, her eyes wide and curious as they meet yours. For a moment, you're captivated by the way they seem to shine, full of wonder and mischief.

You give her a warm smile and a small wave. “Hi," you say softly, your tone as gentle as the moment feels.

Her lips curl into a shy grin, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she mimics your wave and chirps, "Hi." Her voice is small and sweet, and you feel your heart melt instantly.

"This is my Nini," Jungkook says, his tone affectionate as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. He then introduces you by name, emphasizing it just enough for her to catch on.

She tilts her head slightly, testing the sound of your name on her lips. Her tiny voice repeats it, and the way she says it with a soft lilt makes you smile even wider.

"Good job," you say gently, your voice full of encouragement. "You said it perfectly."

She beams at the praise, her little giggle filling the space as she snuggles into Jungkook's chest. He scrunches his nose, fingers lightly tickling her sides, drawing more laughter from her tiny frame. The sight is endearing — so much so that it disarms you completely. This isn't the Jungkook you're used to seeing. It's a domestic, almost paternal side of him that pulls at something deep within you, leaving your thoughts to wander places they shouldn't.

You know better, but your mind betrays you. There's something about the way he holds her so effortlessly, the way his smile reaches his eyes, that stirs a warmth low in your tummy. Whatever the reason, the thought of Jungkook as a father, with kids of his own — and worse, the intrusive idea of them being your kids — leaves your face getting all hot.

Still, the thought lingers in the back of your mind, unwanted and insistent. You try to focus on anything else — the hum of conversation in the other room, the clinking of plates — but all you can see is the way Jungkook glances down at her, his love for her so visible it practically glows.

"What's up, bro!" a man exclaims, striding up to Jungkook with an easy grin, pulling him into a tight hug. Jihyun squeals, sandwiched between the two of them.

"Hey," Jungkook greets, patting the man's back with a grin of his own.  

The man’s focus shifts to you, his demeanor softening into something more formal but equally welcoming. His eyes light up with a polite curiosity, and he steps forward, extending a hand. "Hi, I’m Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother."  

You take his hand, matching his smile with one of your own as you introduce yourself. His handshake is firm yet warm, the kind that immediately puts you at ease. There’s a quiet confidence in his manner, one that seems to run in the family.  

“It’s really nice to meet you,” he says, his smile lingering as if he’s sizing you up in the most good-natured way possible.  

“Likewise,” you reply, your voice steady, though there’s a faint flutter of nerves in your chest — meeting Jungkook’s family feels like crossing an invisible threshold.  

Jihyun squirms free from Jungkook's arms, her little body wriggling with determination until she finally escapes his grasp. The moment her feet hit the floor, she reaches for you, her tiny fingers slipping into yours. She tugs at your hand — gently at first, then more insistently — as if she has something very important to show you in the living room.

"Thief!" Jungkook calls after her, feigning offense.

Jihyun only giggles, her mischievous little laugh filling the room like music. She glances back at him with a playful grin before tightening her grip on you and pulling you forward, eager and excited.

She leads you to a cozy spot on the carpet where a toy tea set is laid out, its bright colors inviting. She sits, pointing to the space across from her. As you settle down, your gaze flickers to the woman seated near you. She cradles a baby in her arms, her beauty striking but softened by the warm smile she sends your way.  

“Would you like some tea?” Jihyun asks, her voice carrying the kind of serious charm only a child could muster. She holds up the tiny porcelain teapot with both hands, her expression adorably earnest.  

You play along, grabbing the delicate toy teacup and its matching saucer, holding them forward. “Why yes, I would love some,” you reply, your tone as playful as hers.  

Jihyun’s giggle is pure delight as she mimics pouring tea, her little hands moving with exaggerated precision. You both lift your cups and take pretend sips, the air between you filled with laughter and the sweetness of a make-believe moment.  

The woman beside you watches the scene unfold with a soft chuckle, her baby gurgling quietly in her arms, adding its own tiny contribution to the cheerful atmosphere.

“You’re really great with kids,” she says, her tone sincere and appreciative.  

You glance over, returning her smile with one of your own. “Thank you. I’ve had my fair share of babysitting over the years.” Your gaze flicks to Jihyun, who’s now meticulously arranging plastic pastries on the carpet. “She’s absolutely adorable.”  

“She is,” the woman agrees, a soft laugh escaping her. “Though she can definitely be a handful when she wants to be. But she gets away with it because she’s cute.”  

You chuckle at her playful tone, shifting your gaze to the little one nestled in her arms. “And what about this one?” you ask, nodding toward the baby.  

“Much calmer,” she replies, glancing down at the tiny bundle in her arms with obvious affection. “At least for now. Ask me again when he starts walking — then I might have a different answer.”  

You chuckle, the warmth of the moment settling around you like a cozy blanket. Your gaze drifts to Jihyun, who carefully lifts her teacup to her teddy bear's snout, her tiny hands steady with concentration. The sight tugs at your heart, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"I'm Yeona, Junghyun's wife," the woman says warmly, her smile reaching her eyes as she shifts the baby slightly in her arms.

You return her smile, introducing yourself as Jungkook's girlfriend. The words feel foreign on your tongue, but not entirely unnatural.

"I've known Jungkook since he was a teenager, and I haven't seen him with someone in a long time. I know you're probably tired of hearing this by now, but we're genuinely so happy to have you here."

You tilt your head slightly, a soft warmth spreading through your chest at her sincerity. "Thank you, I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine.

The baby in her arms suddenly coos, little arms flailing as his tiny face scrunches up with curiosity. Yeona glances down at him and then back at you. "Do you wanna hold him?"

You blink in surprise. "If it's alright?"

"Of course!" she says, carefully moving to hand him over.

You extend your arms, palms open, as she passes the baby to you. His tiny weight settles against you, warm and soft. He doesn't cry or fuss, his wide, innocent eyes locking onto yours. Instead, he lets out another coo, his small hands curling in the air as if reaching for something unseen.

“Do you want kids?” Yeona asks, her tone casual but curious.  

The question catches you off guard with its directness, especially since you’ve only just met her. Yet, there’s no malice or prying in her voice — just genuine curiosity. It’s a question you realize no one has ever bothered to ask you before. Oddly enough, you appreciate her candor.  

“I do,” you admit, your voice soft but certain.  

“Good,” she replies with a knowing smile. “Because I know he does too.”  

Before you can form a response — before you can explain that you and Jungkook aren’t quite what she thinks you are — Yeona rises gracefully from her spot on the carpet, heading toward the kitchen.  

You exhale, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. That’s when you feel it: a familiar warmth pressing against your back, a weight that immediately grounds you. A chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and a hand — adorned with tattoos you’d recognize anywhere — reaches forward to gently touch the baby’s nose.  

Just then, the baby in your arms fusses, his tiny hands swatting at Jungkook’s fingers as if to protest the playful intrusion. Jungkook chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. You glance back at him, a playful glare in your eyes.  

“Stop it,” you whisper with mock sternness, shifting the baby slightly to soothe him. But Jungkook only grins, clearly enjoying the little moment.  

The thought of leaving this — leaving them — in a few months presses heavy on your chest. This family dynamic, this love and connection, feels so genuine. And yet, deep down, you know your place here isn’t meant to last.

But the warmth of Jungkook’s presence, the ease of the laughter surrounding you, makes it harder to remember that this is all an act. A role you’re playing, despite how genuine it feels. Despite how often they tell you how happy they are to have you here.

The sun goes down, and the Christmas lights strung all around the house cast a soft, warm glow that dances across the walls. Their gentle twinkle feels almost magical, a comforting contrast to the slight edge of tension creeping into the evening. The dinner hour is drawing near, and with it, Misa’s arrival looms closer.  

But despite the weight of anticipation in the air, Jungkook feels a surprising calmness wash over him — much calmer than he had been just days before. Maybe it’s his niece laughing her lungs away, a sweet distraction that tugs his focus away from the knot of worry in his chest. Or maybe it’s watching you, seamlessly blending into his family like you’ve belonged here all along. The sight of you laughing with his sister-in-law in the kitchen stirs something in him he hasn’t felt in a while — something warm, soft, and a little dizzying.  

His gaze follows you as you make your way toward him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. You settle onto the couch next to him, your closeness becomes all too apparent. Your knees are bent, legs resting lightly on his thigh. His arm stretches out along the back of the couch, hovering just behind your shoulders.  

The space between you is minimal — comfortable in a way that feels almost... intimate. It’s the kind of closeness that real couples share, a moment so effortlessly tender it catches him off guard.  

But he isn’t uncomfortable. Far from it. There’s a quiet ease in how natural this feels, and for a moment, he lets himself savor it. This — whatever this is — doesn’t feel like an act at all.

“Warming up quickly, aren’t you?” Jungkook teases, his big, round eyes glinting with amusement, the soft glow of the lights catching on his lip piercings.  

“Well, I’m considered family here, so I kind of have to,” you joke, giggling softly at the way his eyes widen in mock surprise. “No, but seriously,” you continue, your voice lighter now, “everyone is very nice and welcoming.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it here,” he says, his tone softer, sincerity threading through the words.  

“Me too,” you reply with a gentle smile, a warmth blooming in your chest that you try not to overthink.

Your gaze drops to Jihyun, who is engrossed in her dolls on the living room floor. Toys are scattered all around her, but she's focused on the one in her hand, turning it this way and that. You can't help but smile softly, your attention anchored to her every movement.

Jungkook doesn't look away. His eyes remain on you, not the child or the cluttered mess around her, but you. He watches the way your expression softens, the way a small, unspoken tenderness lights up your features as you watch Jihyun.

And for him, that's all there is. The conversations buzzing faintly in the kitchen, the faint tick of the clock on the wall, even the weight of the evening ahead — it all fades away.

But then your focus shifted. Your gaze lifted from Jihyun to the new arrivals at the door, and instinctively, his followed.  

And there she was.  

Misa.  

Her hair is different now. Gone is the bold cherry red that once defined her vibrant, carefree spirit, the color she wore like a crown in high school. Instead, her hair is sleek and black, the deep shade a striking contrast to the one he remembered so well. It gives her an air of elegance, of maturity, but there’s still something undeniably familiar about her — the subtle tilt of her head, the curve of her lips when she smiles.

She looks older, more refined, yet still unmistakably herself, as if time had simply smoothed out the edges of the girl he once knew so intimately. It’s like flipping through the pages of an old, beloved book, only to find that some of the words have changed. There’s nostalgia, yes, but also an overwhelming sense of uncertainty that settles in his chest, heavy and persistent.

That smile. The same one he loved for years. Those eyes, the ones that once held his world in their gaze. Her politeness, her grace — they’re all still there, but it’s as though everything else is different now. The way she moves, the way she carries herself. It’s familiar, yes, but also strangely foreign, like he’s looking at someone he used to know but hasn’t seen in far too long.

It confuses him. He should be excited. But he’s not. Because this isn’t the Misa he remembers. This is someone else entirely — someone he doesn’t know how to reach.

When she approaches, he stands from the couch, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. You take it, the gesture both reassuring and strange, and stand beside him as she makes her way toward them.

"Hi," she says, her voice soft, but with that unmistakable warmth he’s always known.

It’s a simple greeting, but it hits him like a wave. For a moment, he freezes. The words don’t come as easily as they once did. She’s standing there in front of him, and yet, it feels as if there’s an entire ocean between them.

"Hi," he responds, his voice a little breathless, as if his mind has been running a marathon trying to find the right words to say.

“It’s been a while,” she says, her smile warm, genuine.

He chuckles awkwardly, the sound forced but heartfelt. "It has. How’ve you been?"

“I’m doing good,” she replies, nodding slightly, her expression soft but sincere. There's a certain calmness about her now, an ease that shows in her eyes, and it hits him all at once — she’s doing well. Without him. Without ever needing him. "And you?"

He nods, but the smile doesn’t come. It’s a stiff, practiced motion, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Me too."

Her smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something in her gaze, something he can’t quite place. It’s fleeting, gone before he can analyze it. Her attention shifts to you then, and for the briefest of moments, he’s left to stand there, caught between the past and the present, unsure of which direction to take.

"Hi, I’m Misa," she says, her tone warmer now as she extends a hand towards you.

You take her hand with your free one, your smile genuine but soft, offering your name as you introduce yourself. Misa’s grip is firm but warm, and she smiles, the edges of her eyes crinkling in a way that reminds you of someone who’s seen the world and learned how to navigate it with grace.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she says sincerely, her voice calm but warm, like a gentle breeze that carries a subtle weight.

“You too,” you smile, matching her warmth.

You take a moment to observe Misa as she stands before you, and it’s hard not to admit she’s undeniably beautiful. The way her features seem to fall into place so effortlessly, how her smile is radiant but reserved, just enough to pull you in without revealing everything. It’s easy to see why Jungkook was so captivated by her in the past.

Now, seeing her in person, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. The woman behind the stories, behind the name that always seemed to linger in his conversations, now standing right in front of you.

It’s almost surreal, meeting her. There’s a strange satisfaction in finally putting a face to the name that you’ve heard so much about. The realization settles over you like a quiet understanding. She’s beautiful, yes, but there’s something else too — a softness, a strength, an elegance that feels like it has been built over years of lived experience.

“Well, I won’t keep you two,” she says with a smile, her voice warm but carrying a certain finality. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you and Jungkook reply in unison, the words almost automatic, yet carrying their own weight as she turns to greet the others. Her presence lingers in the air, the faint scent of her perfume still hanging in the space where she stood.

Jungkook’s eyes follow Misa as she greets the others with that same effortless charm. But it’s different now. The girl he once knew, the one who filled his thoughts with reckless dreams and laughter, isn’t here anymore. The girl in front of him is someone else — someone more polished, more refined, and maybe a little bit distant. 

He feels it, that ache in his chest, a tug of something he can’t quite name. It’s like he’s mourning the loss of someone, of a version of Misa that only existed in the past. The way she used to laugh, how she would look at him with eyes full of mischief and warmth. That’s the girl he remembers, the one he never thought he’d lose touch with.

But now, the girl who used to be his best friend, the one he could confide in, is standing just a few feet away from him, and he doesn’t know her anymore. Not really. The way she’s carrying herself, the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes when she looks at him — he’s lost that closeness, that ease they once shared. It’s like she's become a stranger wrapped in familiarity.

And it hurts more than he thought it would. He feels it deep in his bones, this shift, this subtle but undeniable change. He thought he was ready for this moment, ready to see her again. But nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching someone you once knew inside and out transform into someone unrecognizable.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightens involuntarily, his eyes following Misa as she moves through the room, laughing with the others, her attention elsewhere. His chest feels tight, and the weight of the years spent apart suddenly hits him like a wave. He’s standing here, surrounded by people, but it’s like he’s alone in his own thoughts, trapped in the past he can’t quite shake off.

“You okay?” he hears your voice, soft and gentle. You’re looking at him with concern, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only thing grounding him in the present.

He swallows, trying to push the tightness in his chest away, but it lingers. “Yeah, just…” He trails off, not sure how to explain it. How do you tell someone that seeing her again feels like losing her all over again? That the version of Misa he’s been holding onto for all these years is gone, and he doesn’t know how to navigate the space between them anymore?

“Just feels… different,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying the words out loud will make them too real. And maybe they already are.

The house grows livelier, the comforting scent of homemade food filling every corner.

Mrs. Jeon and Misa’s mom work side by side in the kitchen, their movements fluid and practiced. They bustle around, chopping, stirring, and laughing at the small jokes they share, not letting anyone near their territory. You, eager to lend a hand, tried multiple times to help, but Mrs. Jeon shooed you away with a gentle but firm hand, her eyes twinkling as she insisted you relax and enjoy yourself. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook, his brother, and their father are deep in conversation. Their voices rise and fall in a rhythm that feels so familiar, punctuated by bursts of laughter that echo through the house. Their father’s laughter is loud and boisterous, full of life, as he catches up with his grown sons — talking about everything from their childhood to what they’d been up to since the last time they’d all been together. It’s a rare moment, one that makes the room feel warm and full of love.

You, in contrast, are seated on the floor, a small toy in one hand as you help Jihyun build an impressive block tower. The little one giggles each time you manage to stack another piece, her tiny hands eager to mimic your movements.

Yeona and Misa sit across the room, talking softly between themselves, their conversation a quiet hum against the liveliness of the house. It’s clear they’re speaking about things you don’t fully understand — topics that feel far more mature than anything you’d normally discuss.

They carry themselves with a kind of quiet confidence, a level of poise you’ve always associated with people who’ve been through more than their fair share of life’s ups and downs. There’s a grace to how they both interact, almost as if they’ve mastered this whole adult thing without breaking a sweat.

You can’t help but feel a little out of place. There’s a maturity about them that you can’t quite match, one that makes you feel like you’re not quite there yet — like you’re still fumbling through things they’ve long since figured out. Their conversation, so natural and poised, makes you wonder how much you have yet to experience, how much you still have to learn before you can carry yourself with the same ease.

It’s not that you think they’re better, but there’s something undeniably different about how they present themselves. You wonder if you’ll ever feel as sure of yourself, as poised as they seem to be, or if you’re just going to keep stumbling along, trying to keep up.

"Auntie," Jihyun calls out, her small voice cutting through the noise in the room. You snap your head around, eyes wide, trying to process what you just heard. Did she really just call you that? The word lingers in the air like it doesn’t belong to you, like it's some unfamiliar title you’re not quite sure you deserve.

You stare at her for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Her innocent gaze is fixed on you, her small hand outstretched in an inviting gesture, as though it’s perfectly natural for her to call you that. She tilts her head slightly, her brown eyes full of trust, as she says it again, "Come with me."

A flicker of surprise crosses your face, but there's a warmth growing in your chest that you can’t ignore. Jihyun’s eager smile tugs at your heartstrings, the innocent way she looks at you, as if you’re exactly who she wanted.

You blink a few times, shaking off the surprise, and let a soft smile slip onto your lips. “Did you just call me Auntie?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She nods enthusiastically, oblivious to the impact of the word, her small face lighting up with joy. “Yes! Come with me, Auntie.”

For a moment, you just stand there, processing her innocent certainty. It’s unexpected, yet there’s something so pure about it. You can’t help but feel a twinge of warmth spreading through you, a connection forming in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Maybe it’s the way she looks at you, or how she’s trusting you in this simple, childlike way.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. You glance around the room, half-expecting someone to laugh or correct her, but when nothing comes, you realize that, for Jihyun, this just makes sense. 

With a fond smile, you step forward, your heart lighter. “Okay,” you say, taking her small hand in yours, letting her lead you to whatever adventure she has planned.

Her tiny hands wrap around a few of your fingers, tugging you along with her insistent little grip. You let her lead, smiling softly at her enthusiasm as she weaves through the crowd in the living room and drags you toward the kitchen. When you reach the archway that frames the transition between the two spaces, she halts abruptly, turning to you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Stay here," she commands with all the authority a child her size can muster before darting off again.

Confused but amused, you lean against the archway, watching her scurry away. Moments later, she reappears, this time with Jungkook. He's laughing softly, his brow furrowed as he follows her like he doesn't have a choice.

"Nini, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice tinged with playful exasperation.

She doesn't answer, not until she's positioned him squarely in front of you. Then, she takes a step back, clapping her little hands together as though presenting her masterpiece.

"Mistletoe!" she exclaims triumphantly, pointing above you.

Your jaw drops, eyes immediately darting upward. Sure enough, hanging from the archway is a small sprig of mistletoe, placed there at some point in the evening's festivities.

Jungkook chuckles, his laughter low and rumbling. "You sneaky little-" He reaches out to grab her, but she squeals and darts away, her giggles echoing through the house. She runs straight to her grandfather, climbing onto his lap.

Jungkook's dad grins, his hand resting protectively on her head as she peeks out. "It's tradition, guys," he says with a laugh, his tone light and teasing.

"Come on, this isn't appropriate," Jungkook protests, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are slightly pink, though he keeps his composure.

"Since when were you so shy?" Junghyun teases, his tone light and playful as he watches the scene unfold. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly amused by his daughter's antics and Jungkook's uncharacteristic hesitation.

"Hyung," Jungkook mutters, his jaw tightening as he throws his brother a sharp look. But it only fuels Junghyun's grin.

"She's just trying to spread some Christmas spirit," Junghyun continues, feigning innocence but failing to hide his amusement.

Jungkook is respecting your boundary, you know he is. He remembers what you said — no kissing.

But standing here, with his eyes flickering to yours, the laughter of his family around you, and the weight of his presence so close, the rule you set suddenly feels... unnecessary.

Your gaze drops to his lips, just for a second, and you realize the thought doesn't terrify you like it did before. Kissing him wouldn't be bad. In fact, it feels like the only thing that would make sense in this moment.

Jungkook clears his throat, his voice quieter when he speaks. "We don't have to-"

But before he can finish, you take a step closer, your arms instinctively finding their way around his neck. His words falter, replaced by a breath caught in his throat, as your lips press softly against his.

The living room erupts instantly — dramatic whoops and cheers filling the air. Jihyun squeals in delight, clapping her hands as if she's just orchestrated the most important moment of the year. Her giggles echo above the noise, the proud little culprit reveling in her success.

Jungkook freezes for the briefest of moments, his body tensing under your touch, as if unsure whether to let himself lean into this. But then, slowly, he softens, melting into the kiss. His lips are soft, warmer than you expected, and there's a gentle hesitance in the way he responds — like he's carefully toeing the line, wary of your boundaries but still allowing himself to savor the moment.

The world seems to narrow to just the two of you, the noise of the room fading into a distant hum. His hand slides to your waist, a light but steady anchor, as if he's holding himself back just a little.

You're the first to pull away, a sudden awareness creeping in as the cheers and playful jeers of the room remind you just how many people witnessed that moment. A kiss like that, even if innocent enough, feels a little too bold in front of his entire family. No one really wants to see their son or brother making out with their significant other.

Jungkook looks at you, his lips pink and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed with heat, and his dark eyes still locked on you like you'd just turned his entire world upside down. The intensity of his gaze sends a wave of warmth through you, but you brush it off with a soft laugh, breaking the tension as you glance toward Jihyun.

"You're a little drama starter, aren't you?" you tease, scrunching your nose playfully at her.

Jihyun, as proud of herself as ever, lets out a delighted squeal and climbs off her grandfather's lap, running away from you before you can reach her. You laugh, chasing after her for a moment, her giggles filling the room as she darts behind her dad for safety.

Jungkook stays where he is, still rooted in place, dazed and a little shell-shocked. He watches as you effortlessly transition from teasing his niece to chatting easily with his family, your warmth radiating in a way that fills the room. You blend in so naturally, as though you've been a part of his world forever.

And that's when it hits him — how easily you've warmed up to everyone, how seamlessly you've become a part of his family's dynamic. He can't help the soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you, his heart full but uneasy, knowing moments like these are only temporary.

Then his eyes flicker to the reason why you're here. Misa sits quietly on the couch, her posture relaxed as she watches the scene unfold with a faint smile on her lips. Her gaze follows you as you playfully chase after Jihyun, your laughter filling the room. The sight of you, so at ease, so vibrant, draws everyone's attention — even hers.

For a moment, Jungkook feels a twinge of something familiar, something that once drove him to the edges of heartbreak. Seeing Misa here, so poised and serene, was supposed to reignite the ache, the longing for what he once had.

But it doesn’t. And he’s beginning to realize why.

The rest of the night flowed smoothly, a seamless blend of good food, warm laughter, and light-hearted conversations that filled the Jeon household.

Dinner was amazing, every dish perfectly cooked thanks to Mrs. Jeon and Misa’s mom. You sat next to Jungkook at the table, his arm brushing against yours occasionally, a quiet reassurance of his presence. Jihyun had insisted on sitting on your other side, her boundless energy keeping you entertained throughout the meal as she chattered away about everything and nothing.  

But like all good things, the evening eventually wound down. Plates were cleared, leftovers were packed, and the gentle hum of conversation turned into goodbyes. Tomorrow, you and Jungkook would be leaving, heading back to your lives where the pretense of being a couple wouldn’t follow.  

You crouched down to hug Jihyun for as long as you could, her small arms clutching you tightly. The thought of this being the only family event you’d attend, knowing you wouldn’t see her anymore, stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated. She burrowed into your embrace, her sleepy form warm and soft against you.  

Her dad gently took her from your arms, whispering for her to give you one last goodbye. Jihyun’s tiny voice murmured a goodbye before she rested her head on her father’s shoulder, her eyes already fluttering shut.  

You watched as their car pulled out of the driveway, the taillights fading into the darkness. A frown crept onto your face as a quiet sigh escaped your lips. Jungkook’s hand moved to your back, his touch steady and comforting, rubbing slow circles to ease the weight of your thoughts.  

A familiar voice broke the moment. “It was nice meeting you again, truly,” Misa said, stepping closer.  

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “You too.”  

Her gaze shifted to Jungkook, a subtle hesitation flickering in her expression before she spoke. “Can I talk to you for a second?”  

Jungkook’s eyes immediately darted to you, as if seeking your approval or reassurance.  

“Take him,” you said lightly, flashing a small smile in Misa’s direction before meeting his gaze. “I’ll be upstairs.”  

As you disappeared into the house, the door clicked shut behind you, leaving Jungkook and Misa alone on the porch.  

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Jungkook shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his breath clouding in the chilly night air. Across from him, Misa crossed her arms, pulling her coat tighter around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.  

“I knew this would be awkward, but I feel like… I owe you a conversation. After everything,” Misa starts, her voice tentative, as if she’s unsure whether she’s even allowed to say this.

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh, his breath fogging in the cold air. “You didn’t think to do this… oh, I don’t know – nine years ago?”  

His tone is laced with sarcasm, but the hurt cuts through it unmistakably. Misa flinches at his words, and for a fleeting moment, guilt flashes across her face, making her look smaller than she usually does.  

“I loved you, Jungkook…” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we were so young. It was bound to happen.”  

“No, it wouldn’t have!” Jungkook snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “If you really loved me, you would’ve made it work!”  

Misa’s eyes glisten under the porch light, and her voice trembles as she responds, “You think I wanted to leave you? I couldn’t stop crying for years, Jungkook! But I was seventeen, and I was terrified! Walking away was the best thing for both of us!”  

“It destroyed me, Misa!” he fires back, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “You didn’t do what was best for us. You were just selfish.”  

“Selfish?” she retorts, her voice rising as she takes a step closer. “Jungkook… we were kids! We lived miles apart. How would that have worked? You think it was easy for me to make that choice? It wasn’t ideal for me either, but it was what would’ve made the most sense.”  

Jungkook shakes his head, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. He lowers his gaze to his shoes, his voice softening into a near whisper. “We could’ve made it work…”  

“I’m sorry,” Misa says, her tone laden with sincerity. “I really am.”  

For a moment, silence falls between them, the kind that feels both heavy and oddly freeing. Jungkook finally lifts his eyes to meet hers, searching her face for something he isn’t sure he’ll find.  

“Are you happy?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.  

Misa's lips curve into a small smile, one tinged with both pride and nostalgia. "I am. I recently finished my last year of med school," she says, her voice soft but steady. "It was... tough, but I did it." She pauses, as if letting herself truly feel the weight of her accomplishment before adding, "And... I'm engaged now, so yeah, I am really happy."

Jungkook smiles — a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes, yet beneath it lingers something else, something quieter. A twinge of jealousy, not because he believes it should have been him, but because she has moved on while he remains tethered to the past. But despite it all, he is truly happy for her.

"That's amazing," he says, his voice genuine, though slightly hushed. "I'm... I'm proud of you."

“Thank you,” she says, her tone soft. “How about you?”  

His mind races through everything he’s endured since Misa left — the heartbreak, the years of questioning, and now, the realization that he’s no longer the person who once pined for her. “I don’t know…” he finally mutters, his voice distant.  

Misa tilts her head slightly, studying him. “Is she not making you happy?” she asks softly, referring to you.  

There’s no point in lying anymore.

His response is immediate, but it comes with a shake of his head. “We aren’t together.”  

Misa’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. “Really?” She crosses her arms, the disbelief clear in her voice. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

Jungkook exhales sharply, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. "I brought her here because I knew you would be here."

The weight of his confession lingers in the cold night air, his words a reluctant admission of vulnerability. Misa tilts her head slightly, her expression softening as the meaning behind his actions clicks into place.

"Well," she says, pulling her hand from her coat pocket with a subtle flourish, revealing the diamond ring on her finger, "I hate to break it to you, but it didn't work."

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at himself, at the situation, at how ridiculous it all feels now. Misa laughs with him, the tension breaking like the first crack of sunlight after a long storm.  

“She did warn me. I guess I should’ve known better,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  

“Yeah, probably,” she teases lightly, her smile softening as she looks at him. “But hey… at least you tried.”  

Jungkook nods slowly, his gaze lingering on the door as a faint smile graces his lips. “Yeah… being with her didn’t seem all that bad, though,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Misa.  

Misa smiles knowingly, crossing her arms as she tilts her head. “Go for it,” she says softly. “You deserve happiness too, Jungkook.”  

He lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I just… I don’t want to ruin things between us. What if it’s too much, too fast? What if it’s not what she wants?”  

Misa raises an eyebrow, her tone light but firm. “Well, if rejection is what you’re scared of, I’ll tell you right now — that kiss was anything but friendly.”  

Jungkook chuckles nervously, his cheeks warming as he shakes his head. “You think so?”  

“I know so,” she replies confidently, her smile turning teasing. “Trust me, Jungkook. If you’re even half as obvious with her as you were with me, she knows. And honestly? She probably feels the same.”  

Her words hang in the air, filling him with equal parts hope and doubt. Jungkook glances at her, taking in the sincerity in her expression. For a moment, neither of them says anything, the quiet sounds of the night settling around them. Then, Misa steps forward and wraps her arms around him.  

He returns the embrace, his hands resting lightly on her back. “Thanks, Misa,” he says, his voice muffled against her shoulder.  

She pulls back just enough to look at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t need my thanks,” she replies softly, her tone carrying the warmth of an old friend. Then, with a playful smirk, she adds, “Just don’t mess it up.”  

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’ll try not to.”  

And then, with one last glance at him, Misa steps away. The sound of her heels clicking against the pavement echoes softly in the quiet night as she climbs into her car. The engine hums to life, and within moments, she's driving off into the darkness, her taillights disappearing down the street.

Jungkook exhales, watching as his breath dissipates into the cold night air. The weight he had carried for so long — the lingering feelings of the past, the questions left unanswered — fades, piece by piece. Misa's departure isn't a loss; it's a quiet closing of a door that had been left ajar for far too long.  

He turns back toward the house, the warm glow from the windows beckoning him inside. Jungkook steps through the door, closing it behind him, ready to run toward whatever comes next.

You were upstairs, unwinding from the day. Just as you were about to head to the shower, Jungkook makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

"How was it?" you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, your gaze flicking toward him as he closes the door behind him.

"Good," he says simply, but his tone is distant, as though his mind is somewhere else.

Your brows knit together. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer immediately, his jaw working as if he's chewing over his next words. Finally, he speaks, but it's not what you expected. "Why did you do it?"

You blink, confused. "Do what?"

"Kiss me," he says, his voice steady.

You chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Everyone was watching us, Kook. And Misa. It would've been obvious if we didn't kiss."

He shakes his head, taking a step closer. "You didn't do it because of Misa, did you?" he says, his tone firm.

You tilt your head, looking up at him, and a small smile curves on your lips. It's playful, teasing, and it's enough to make his heart stutter. That smile tells him everything he needs to know, but still, you say it anyway. "It was just a kiss."

He narrows his eyes slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You said no kissing," he reminds you, leaning in just enough to make the air between you crackle with tension.

"Well, I changed my mind," you reply, your voice light, though there's a hint of something more in it.

"Because?" he presses, tilting his head slightly, his smirk widening as he waits for your answer.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Because it was easier than explaining why we weren't kissing under the mistletoe."

"Hmm," he hums, unconvinced, taking a step closer. He's so close now that you have to tilt your head further to meet his gaze. "That's the story you're going with?"

"That's the truth," you say, holding his gaze, though your lips betray you with a small, mischievous smile.

His tongue runs across his bottom lip as he chuckles softly. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"I've nothing to lie about," you say, your voice steady, though the spark in your eyes betrays your composure.

"Yeah?" he asks, his tone low, challenging, as he steps even closer.

You nod, humming softly, your confidence unwavering.

And then, without warning, he crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is sudden, stealing the breath right out of your lungs, catching you completely off guard. His hand rests behind your neck, pulling you into him.

For a moment, you freeze, your mind racing to process what just happened, but then instinct takes over. Your hands find his chest, gripping his shirt to steady yourself as you melt into the kiss. His lips are warm, insistent but not rough, like he's been waiting for this moment and isn't about to let it slip away.

When he finally pulls back, he's slightly breathless, his dark eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging at the corners of his swollen lips. "There's no mistletoe. What's your excuse this time, huh?"

You narrow your eyes at him, your breath uneven as you glare at his teasing grin. "Just shut the fuck up already," you snap, grabbing his face with both hands and crashing your lips onto his again.

He barely has time to react, but when he does, his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer. He smiles into the kiss, that cocky, boyish grin you've come to know so well. It only spurs you on, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepens, all the tension, teasing, and unspoken words melting away into something neither of you could deny anymore.

"God, you're bossy," he mumbles, his tone playful but laced with something much deeper.

"And you talk too much," you retort, your voice muffled as you kiss him again, determined to shut him up properly this time.

“Do I?” he asks, his voice a low, husky almost-moan against your lips.  

You hum in response, your breath hitching as his fingers trace a featherlight path down your spine. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, searching, teasing.  

“Yeah?” he asks again, tilting his head, that signature smirk tugging at his lips — the kind that tells you he’s up to no good.  

“Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, the impatience laced in your voice only making his smirk widen.  

His fingers move to the buckle of your belt, unlooping the strap with agonizing slowness, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of your stomach as he works the metal free. The sound of it sliding through the loops is deliberate, a slow tease, a promise.  

“I should really stop talking then, shouldn’t I?” he murmurs, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your parted lips.  

“Yeah, you should,” you say with a knowing smile, rolling your hips forward slightly, urging him on.  

His fingers move with purpose now, popping open the button of your jeans before dragging the zipper down. His hands, warm and firm, press against your hips as he kneels slightly, hooking his fingers into the waistband and peeling the denim down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in your underwear, the cool air against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. 

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you effortlessly to the edge of the bed. A soft giggle escapes you, a playful attempt at resistance as you nudge him with your foot, but he catches your ankle with ease. His thumb traces over your skin, a slow, deliberate motion before he dips his head, pressing a featherlight kiss to your ankle.  

The warmth of his lips trails up your calf, each kiss slower than the last. His hands glide along your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs as he moves higher, his breath hot against your skin. A shiver runs through you, anticipation building with every unhurried touch.  

Pausing at the inside of your thigh, he lets his lips linger, the heat of his breath sending a ripple of want through your body. His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down inch by inch, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The room feels smaller, the space between you charged, heavy with something unspoken but undeniably felt.  

He takes his time, savoring every inch of exposed skin, as if committing the moment to memory. Your body hums under his touch, muscles tensing in expectation. His hands, his lips — every movement feels intentional, like he’s unraveling you piece by piece, without a single word spoken between you.

He leans back in, his lips grazing your skin as he presses another lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath ghosting over you and making your muscles tense in anticipation. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his mouth finally descends, lips parting to taste you without hesitation. 

The first brush of his lips against your clit is teasing, and when he seals them around the sensitive bundle of nerves, the contrast of heat and the chill of his lip piercings sends a sharp jolt through you. A strangled gasp escapes, your back arching instinctively as pleasure pulses through you.

Your fingers weave into his hair, brushing the strands back to get a better view of him. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, like a man savoring his favorite meal, every movement of his tongue precise, every suck deliberate. His grip on your thighs tightens as if he’s anchoring himself to you, determined to keep you right where he wants you.  

Your thumb traces over the scar on his cheek, a gentle contrast to the heat pooling in your core. “Much better,” you tease, your voice barely above a breath, though the playful lilt doesn’t go unnoticed.  

At that, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, dark and laced with something dangerous. His eyes lower in a silent warning — one you barely have time to process before he hums deeply against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure straight through you. Your body jolts, fingers tightening in his hair, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, he redoubles his efforts, dragging you even deeper into the fire.

You push your hips further into his face, desperation guiding your movements, and he welcomes it — welcomes you. His mouth works you over with relentless hunger, tongue flicking and curling, lips sealing around your clit with dizzying precision. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement, and you know he probably can't breathe.

But Jungkook doesn't give a fuck.

If anything, he buries himself deeper, groaning as he drowns in you, hands gripping your thighs like he never wants to leave. He's proud, eager, insatiable — wholly unbothered by the thought of suffocating between your legs. If this is how he dies, he'll do it happily.

You throw your head back, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans threatening to spill from your mouth. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath his relentless tongue, but you can't risk being loud — not with Jungkook's parents somewhere in the house.

The walls are thin, far too thin, and the last thing you need is for them to hear what's happening behind this closed door. Your gasps come out shaky, uneven, each one catching in your throat as you fight to stay quiet. But Jungkook isn't making it easy. He hums against you again, the vibrations shooting through your core, and when your fingers tighten in his hair, he only doubles down, eating you like he doesn't care if you get caught.

Despite Jungkook's reckless determination to die between your thighs, his body betrays him. He suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gulps in deep, heavy breaths. His face glistens with your slick, flushed from the lack of air and the heat of the moment. His ears burn red, lips swollen and glossy, eyes dark with raw hunger. But he doesn't waste a second — he leans back in, stealing one more kiss from your throbbing core before standing.

His hands go straight to his belt, fumbling in his urgency, fingers nearly trembling as he rips it off. His pants and boxers are shoved down in one swift motion, and his cock springs free — thick, flushed, the pretty pink tip leaking evidence of his arousal. It stands tall, curved slightly, twitching as he wraps a firm hand around the base.

A groan of relief slips from his lips as he strokes himself, his head tipping back for a moment before his gaze locks onto you again, hungry and unashamed.

"That hard from eating some pussy?" you tease, smirking as you watch him.

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around his cock. "You should be honored. I nearly nutted in my fucking pants doing that." He steps closer, lips curling into a smirk of his own. "Take your shirt off."

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "You first."

Jungkook huffs out a playful scoff, rolling his eyes, but he listens. With one swift motion, he reaches behind his back, gripping the fabric of his sweater before yanking it over his head and tossing it aside. His toned chest and arms flex with the movement, muscles rippling beneath his inked skin. The sight alone makes your stomach clench with anticipation.

But what really gets you is the way he immediately wraps his hand around his cock again, resuming his slow, deliberate strokes. He's getting harder, impossibly so, the veins along his shaft becoming more pronounced. His eyes stay locked on you, dark and hooded, drinking in every inch of your body like he's imagining all the ways he's about to ruin you.

"Your turn," he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

You take your time, dragging out the moment as you lift your sweater over your head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air prickles against your skin, your bare shoulders exposed, but your bra still remains, teasing him just enough.

Jungkook's jaw flexes. His thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, spreading the precum leaking from his slit, but his patience is thinning.

"All of it," he commands, voice firm. There's no room for argument.

You reach behind your back, fingers deftly working the clasp of your bra. The moment it unhooks, the straps slip from your shoulders, the fabric going slack against your skin. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pull it off completely and let it drop to the floor, joining the rest of your discarded clothes.

Jungkook's breath stutters. His strokes slow for a moment as his eyes drink you in, dark and full of heat, pupils blown wide with unfiltered desire. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, jaw tightening as he exhales sharply through his nose.

Feeling like a third wheel between Jungkook and his cock, you slip off the bed and onto your knees before him. His brows furrow slightly when you wrap your fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand away from his aching length. His cock twitches in the cool air, glistening with precum, and you don’t hesitate — leaning in, you drag your tongue slowly from the thick base of his shaft up to his flushed, leaking tip.  

A sharp breath escapes him, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. He lets you take control for a moment, but then, instead of letting you simply pull his wrist away, his fingers slide down to lace with yours, gripping your hand in a silent, desperate plea. Your lips part, taking him in, your tongue swirling over the sensitive head before pressing flat against the underside. 

“Fuck… gonna- make me fucking cum already, baby,” he groans, voice thick with pleasure, his grip tightening around your hand.  

But just as he teeters on the edge, you pull off with a wet pop, a teasing glint in your eyes as you look up at him. His cock twitches in protest, a string of spit connecting your lips to his flushed tip.  

“Want you to fuck me,” you murmur, voice laced with need.  

Jungkook exhales a shaky breath, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?”  

You nod, biting your lip, heat simmering between you.  

His jaw flexes as his eyes darken. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you.” His grip on your hand tightens briefly before he lets go. “Get on the bed, baby.”  

Your heart pounds as you stand, climbing onto the mattress, anticipation thrumming through your veins. He doesn’t waste a second — his lips crash against yours, the force of his kiss sending you toppling onto the bed. His body presses flush against yours, a delicious heat radiating between you as he deepens the kiss.

Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, breathless, his forehead nearly touching yours as he looks down between your bodies. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself slowly, teasingly, as if grounding himself in the moment. But then, he stills.  

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom, baby,” he murmurs, voice tight with frustration.  

You reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over the flushed heat of his skin. “It’s fine,”  

His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching. “You still sure?”  

You groan, your patience hanging by a thread. “Jungkook, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m never talking to you again.”  

He chuckles, before finally giving in. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open as he guides himself forward, the thick, swollen head of his cock pressing against your sopping entrance. He teases you first, dragging the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A sharp gasp rips from your throat as he stretches you open, inch by inch, your walls clenching around him as they struggle to accommodate his sheer size. The delicious burn of fullness has your back arching, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper. Your nails bite into the inked skin of his shoulder, desperate for something to ground you.  

“Gosh, you’re so big,” you moan, voice breaking as pleasure swirls in your stomach.  

Jungkook groans, his head dropping for a moment before he lifts it, watching the way your body takes him in. His jaw clenches, restraint evident in the way his fingers tighten on your thighs.  

“You can take it,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I know you can.”  

He presses in further, inch by inch, until he bottoms out, the head of his cock nudging deep inside you. A deep, guttural moan escapes him as he stills, giving you a moment to adjust, his thumbs stroking over your skin in a silent praise.

"Okay, you can move," you whisper, your breath shaky with anticipation, giving him the green light.  

Without hesitation, Jungkook pulls back, the thick head of his cock dragging slowly out of you, the wetness between your bodies creating a squelchy sound that fills the room. He pauses for a breath, then pushes back in, the pressure of his thick shaft sliding into you with a deep, satisfying thrust.  

Your body trembles with each movement, the slickness between you amplifying the sound of him sinking into you, the heat building in your core as his rhythm deepens. His hands grip your thighs tighter, the tension in his muscles visible as he focuses on every inch of you, filling you completely with each stroke.  

He leans down, capturing your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours as his fingers dig into your hips. His lips trail lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, along the sensitive column of your throat, until he reaches your collarbone. He latches on, sucking at the delicate skin, leaving a mark that he knows will be there in the morning.

His thrusts grow quicker, rougher, his grip on your waist tightening as he pounds into you. The bedframe slams against the wall with each movement, the rhythmic banging growing louder, impossible to ignore.

"Fuck," Jungkook grits out, a mix of pleasure and panic flickering across his face. You feel too good — too warm, too tight, too perfect — but reality crashes in. His parents are near, and the thought of them hearing what's happening in the bed he used to sleep in as a kid sends a chill down his spine. Without hesitation, he pulls out, breathing heavily as he grabs your hand. His dark eyes flicker with urgency as he tugs you up. "Get up,"

Confused, you obey nonetheless, your legs still shaky as Jungkook leads you across the room. He drops down onto the chair by his desk, spreading his legs slightly, his dark, impatient gaze locking onto yours. He holds his hands out, palms open, a silent command.

"Come here," he murmurs, guiding you with a tilt of his head.

You hesitate, glancing between him and the chair. "You serious?"

Jungkook huffs, his jaw ticking. "You want my parents to know we're fucking in here?" His fingers flex, beckoning you closer. "Hurry up, babe. A few more bounces, and I got you."

You sigh, but the heat in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. Stepping between his legs, you plant your hands on his broad shoulders for support before straddling him.

His hands immediately find your lower back, one strong arm keeping you steady while the other wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself against your entrance.

A shudder runs through you as you sink down onto him, inch by inch, until you're seated fully in his lap, his cock buried deep inside you. His grip tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he takes control, lifting you slightly before helping you bounce on him.

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach, overriding everything else — the growing cramp in your leg, the sharp pressure of your knees pressing into the hard wooden chair. None of it matters. All you can focus on is chasing your high, the way his cock fills you so perfectly, the delicious friction driving you closer and closer to the edge.

But Jungkook's attention is elsewhere. His eyes are locked on your tits, mesmerized by the way they bounce with every movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. A sharp gasp escapes you as he sucks greedily, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. His hands slide up your back, pressing you closer, desperate to feel as much of you as possible.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the dark strands, while your other hand grips his shoulder for support. His groan vibrates against your skin, sending a shiver straight through you. The heat between you is unbearable, all — consuming, and you know neither of you will last much longer.

Jungkook's hands roam lower, squeezing your ass before delivering a sharp slap that makes you jolt. He grips both cheeks, spreading them apart as he helps you move, guiding you up and down on his cock with a firm, steady hold.

His own breaths are ragged, his restraint hanging by a thread as he watches you unravel above him.

"Fuck- M'gonna cum!" you whine, your voice breaking, the desperation in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, and you can't contain your volume.

Jungkook reacts instantly, his mouth leaving your tit as his hand flies up to cover your mouth, muffling your cries before they can slip past the walls. You moan helplessly against his palm as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around his cock in tight, pulsing waves. Jungkook groans, his brows furrowing as he feels you squeeze around him, the sensation almost pushing him over the edge.

"Keep going for me, yeah?" he rasps, his voice thick with need as his fingers dig into the fat of your ass. He thrusts up to meet your movements, the rhythm growing more desperate, more frantic.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as you hum against his palm, your muffled moans vibrating against his skin. The way he fills you, stretches you, has your entire body trembling.

"Yeah, make me cum, baby," he groans, his head falling back against the chair, jaw clenched tight as he teeters on the edge.

His hand slides from your mouth to your hip, his grip tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he takes control. He guides you faster, his thrusts growing more desperate, more erratic, chasing that final, dizzying high.

Your walls flutter around him, the sensation pushing him closer, pulling him under. His breathing turns ragged, his muscles tensing beneath you as pleasure coils tight in his core.

"Fuck- just like that," he grits out, his hips snapping up to meet yours in a final, desperate push.

A few more bounces, and he breaks, a deep but quiet groan spilling from his lips as he comes, his release shooting hot and deep inside you. His hands squeeze your waist, holding you down against him as he rides out his high, every pulse of pleasure leaving him breathless.

You push his damp hair back from his sweaty forehead, your fingers combing through the strands with gentle care. His chest rises and falls beneath you, still heaving from the intensity of it all.

Leaning down, you press a soft kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, a big difference to the desperation from moments ago. Jungkook hums against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, holding you close as he melts into the kiss.

When you pull away, his eyes flutter open, laced with exhaustion and something softer — something tender. A lazy smile tugs at his lips as he exhales a satisfied sigh.

"All this over some mistletoe," he teases, his voice still slightly breathless.

"The drama," you drawl, rolling your eyes playfully as you tease him back.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep and warm, vibrating against your skin. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His lips brush against your damp skin, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss there.

His cock softens inside you, but neither of you move just yet. The heat of the moment has faded, replaced by something quieter, something softer. 

“Oh!” Jungkook suddenly exclaims, his eyes lighting up as if he’s just remembered something. “I got you something.”  

You shift off of him, settling on the edge of the bed as he moves to one of the drawers. His movements are purposeful but unhurried, fingers sifting through its contents before he retrieves a long, slender gift box. He turns, extending it toward you with an expectant look.  

“You didn’t have to,” you murmur, meeting his gaze as you hesitantly take the box from his hands.  

“Just open it,” he insists, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  

With a soft breath, you lift the lid, and your heart stutters. There, nestled inside, is your necklace — whole again. The delicate chain, once broken, gleams under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, looking as flawless as the day it was first given to you.  

Your breath catches, fingers hovering over the pendant before carefully picking it up. “Kook…” you whisper, eyes lifting to his.

“I know how much it meant to you, so I got it fixed this morning,” Jungkook says softly, his voice laced with warmth. “Merry Christmas, baby.”  

Your chest tightens, emotion welling up as you blink back the tears threatening to spill. His thoughtfulness, the effort he put into something so personal to you — it means more than words can express.  

A watery smile spreads across your lips as you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kiss him, a soft press of your lips against his. Then again. And once more, lingering just a little longer this time.  

You were glad you came. Even if the initial plan to make Misa jealous had failed, it didn’t matter anymore. Because, in this moment, with Jungkook, this might just be the best Christmas of your life.

© voyter 2025, all rights reserved.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part one)

part two (soon)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, very indirect subtle mention of sexual themes (no actual scenes), mention of drug usage (no actual scene)

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him.

word count: 2.1k+

a/n: i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt like it now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any smut in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. and kelce's last name is statter bc apparently it was never mentioned in the show. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be little freaks) <3

*****

Fuck my life.

That was the only thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week art project. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him. You didn’t even know why he'd chosen this class. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA. Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe Cameron made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/N, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice. You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, like he was waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Okay, then let’s meet after the fifth period." Before you could ask where you should meet him, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach.

You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant—he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statton was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that was what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him. But he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems at right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

----

The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe Cameron? Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out—only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The dining hall would've been the most obvious meeting place, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong, freshly showered—boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining why you were standing there if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t. Great.

When Rafe saw you, something flickered in his gaze that you didn’t want to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you—with Kelce and Topper right behind him.

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Hey," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "I didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

Blushing, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Right," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the dining hall."

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment. G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though. The faster we get this project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/N Y/L/N, right? Your mom owns Y/L/N Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just laughed.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t blush. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a pretty model."

Your cheeks warmed, and either he didn’t notice, or he chose not to comment on it.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You allowed yourself a small smirk.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a tired smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate? It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The cafeteria has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny? Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who… uh…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„No, no, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave. You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, warm, which somehow made it worse because it only made you more nervous.

„No, no, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „I guess I need to work out more if I’m giving off ‘fries guy’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the dining hall. „Come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming—in the best way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

[mujingsi]

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

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

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

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

⤷ this is so fucking hot of him. ok sorry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤷ THE TENSION IS SO FUCKJNN HGOODOFFDDJFKROWOWA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤷ HES COMPARING HER TO MUSIC

⤷ EVERYOEN FUCKING STAY CALM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤷ HES FALLING HARDDDDDD AAAAAAAAJKFDGHJDFKHGFJKGHDFKJG

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⤷ I’m fucjfjnggnot on the floor hali

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

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

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

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

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

⤷ my live reaction to this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

TLDR:

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

Storm Breaker (l.jh)

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

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

Word Count: 23,373

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

Type: Smut, Angst

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

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

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

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

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

Main Masterlist | Ask | Read Next: Cherry Bomb

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

Just add it to his list of inconveniences.  

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

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

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

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

“Ranger-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you guess?” 

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

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

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

“Nope.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Privacy is important to him. 

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

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

Drift compatibility. 

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

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

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

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

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

He has nowhere else to go anyway. 

-

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

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

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

You pause. “Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.” 

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

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

Her smile is firm. “I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“No promises.” 

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

Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

“Don’t care.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes you think that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dino and Wylie.” 

“Good pilots?” 

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

“Ambidextrous.”

“Good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

So you deviate. 

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“That isn’t how that works.” 

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

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

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

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

And you’re still on top of him. 

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

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

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

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

“We’re too different in principle.” 

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

“You deviate.” 

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

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

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

He pauses. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

-

You are vexing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the suspension look like?”

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

“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”

He nods. “Since my first drop.”

“She’s beautifully built.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”

“Why Dino?” 

“I step on everyone.” 

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

“How was your drop?” 

“Easy,” they say in unison. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I - what?” 

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

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

“The trade off?”

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

“Look - “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he hates you for it.

-

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

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

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

“What do you know about music?”

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

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”

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

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

“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

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

“Wherever I want, got it.” 

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

Cozy. 

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

You doubt it’s the latter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.” 

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

“Close your eyes.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great.” 

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

“What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look at the TV.”

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

“Ji, it is five in the morning.”

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

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

As expected, you get no response. 

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

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

“Then use the sink.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t.”

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

“Thank god for that,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go. We have sparring.” 

-

Jihoon doesn’t like you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She wanted to protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll come.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, man.”

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

“Wylie is one of my best friends.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to engage.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes. 

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pursue.” 

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

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

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

“Engage at your discretion.”

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

“Heard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

“Ugh.”

He smirks. “Cardio day.”

“Ji, no.”

He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it. Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes until surface breach.” 

“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp. 

“Sup?”

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

Vernon groans. “Mood.” 

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

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

“So it’s Ji now, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Engage at your discretion.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way.”

“Come onnnn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... out of alignment!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s chasing the rabbit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!” 

Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder. 

Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.

You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes. 

Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”

-

Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry. 

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

“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”

“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”

He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think. 

Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.

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

He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine. 

“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”

“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”

“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”

He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.” 

Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot. 

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”

His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.” 

Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry. 

You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.

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

One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat. 

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.” 

“So crumble.” 

“Fuck.”

Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you. 

Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs. 

Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head. 

He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.

“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.

“Mmmf - difficult.”

This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.

Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest. 

“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.” 

Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.” 

So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there. 

“Having a hard time?”

“Jihoon.”

One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue. 

“Jihoon.” 

He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently. 

Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest. 

“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.” 

He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again. 

“Try now,” he pants. 

His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking. 

You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug. 

A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.

He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear. 

“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.” 

His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real. 

The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace. 

When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically. 

You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.

Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm. 

He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”

It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.

Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.

Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy. 

“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.” 

“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.” 

“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.” 

“How stupid of you.”

Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in. 

His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt. 

Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight. 

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”

Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.” 

Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you. 

His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.

“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless. 

Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong. 

His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy. 

“Oh shit,” you wheeze. 

He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath. 

His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”

“So come again.” 

You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips. 

Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard. 

He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.

With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.

Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders. 

“Thank you.” 

You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”

“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I hope so. I want to be.” 

With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.

“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?” 

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.” 

“Come on, we’re showering.” 

“No way, I am not moving right now.”

“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”

“Ji,” you whine. 

He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.” 

TAG LIST:

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[omid-1]

BETTER THAN PHYSICS⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ —SJY

Pairing: tutor!Jake x fem!student!reader

Summary: You have always hated physics. You've tried to learn it but it doesn't work out. Will that change when you go for tutoring to the hottest and most handsome man you've ever seen?

Genre:smuttttt

Warnings: 18+, age gap( reader is 19 and Jake is 30), mdni, unprotected sex (don’t do it) , soft dom jake, fingering, oral ( fem receiving), eating out, dirty talks, swearing, fingering, squirting, hickeys,begging, nipple play, kissing, pet names (baby, princess etc.), mutual desire, missionary, big dick!Jake, multiple orgasms (sorry if I missed sth)

Word count: 3,5 k

Author note: ahhh, my first fanfic has so many likes and reblogs!!! Thank you so much!!! I’m very glad that you liked it ㅤ♡ ^^ ! I hope you will like this one too ♡

English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

Physics has never been your favorite subject. You’ve always passed this subject with luck. No matter how much time you spent studying it, it was always bad. When you graduated from school you went to college. You didn’t expect that there will be also physics.

You are in your first year of study and you are doing very well in your studies. Unfortunately, you are only stopped by unfortunate physics. You're writing exams in a few weeks and that includes this subject.

You studied at night, took notes and even concentrated a lot during the lectures but it didn't do anything. You just think and know that you don’t have the talent for it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

One evening you called your mom. You do it often because you are living now in a dormitory with your friend.

Your university is far from your home so you had to move away. Due to your studies, you don’t have much time to visit your family, so you often call them.

You talked with your mom. She knows very well about your troubles with physics. She told you that she knows someone who could tutor you.

At first you weren't too convinced by her idea, but nevertheless you knew that she wants good for you, and you guess this will be your last hope.

You found out from her that your tutor was to be a man who teaches physics at the school, and his name is Jaeyun. According to your mom, he taught her friend's son and he passed his exams 100%. She gave you his phone number and you wrote down.

Later in the evening after studying you were laying in bed. You mindlessly scrolled through social media on your phone. You were reminded that you need to call or text to this tutor.

You were wondering if this is a good idea. What if it's just a waste of time and money for you and you don't learn anything? Or worse it will be some old man who God knows what he will do to you?

But on the other hand, he was recommended by your mom so you trust her.

You chose his number. You didn’t want to call him so you wrote a short message:

YN: Hi, I’m YN! My mom gave me your number because you supposedly tutor physics

You were surprised how quickly he texted back:

Jaeyun: Hey! Yes, I tutor! if you want, we can arrange when to meet :)

You read his message and immediately wrote back:

YN: okay, we can even meet tomorrow if it suits you

Jaeyun: what about 6 pm?

YN: of course, it suit me!

You didn't know it would go so easily. You agreed on where to meet and decided to meet at his house. It turned out that he lives near your dormitory so you had a good commute to his place. With thoughts of tomorrow's tutoring, you fell asleep.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

You enter the apartment building where he lives. You have to admit that it’s very luxurious here and these apartments must have been very expensive. You ride the elevator and you are stressed.

It occurred to you that you have never really seen him. What if he turns out to be some kind of weirdos and you never leave his apartment again?

You walk unsteadily down the corridor and your brain is filled with thoughts. You stand in front of his apartment and softly knock on the door.

He opens the door. And my God before your eyes appeared the most handsome man you have ever seen.

He is wearing a black shirt that has two buttons unbuttoned and through this you can see that he is wearing a silver necklace, glasses in which he looks like a nerd and has lovely black slightly disheveled hair

And his face?? Goddamn,he looks like he’s some kind of Greek goddess. For all you know he's about 30 years old but he looks younger.

You know in advance that you won't learn much from his tutoring, and you won’t be able to focus since he looks too good.

You stand for a moment literally staring at him until you are shaken by his voice and he says calmly with a slight smile "Hi, are you YN?"

And when you heard his Australian accent? You literally went wild. He has the hottest voice you've ever heard.

You look at him and nod ,, yes, it’s me”

Jaeyun lets you in and you leave your shoes in the hallway. You have to admit that his apartment looks very expensive. Everything is very modern and looks new. You honestly like it a lot. It was clear that he lives alone, but this surprised you because how can such a handsome man be single?

You sat side by side in the living room at the table. You pulled out a physics book when Jaeyun said ,,so I haven't switched to you yet. I'm Sim Jaeyun but just can call me Jake”

You look at him the whole time and smile softly. Then you show him all the topics you were struggling with in physics.

,,okay, let’s start from the beginning. I will try to explain you as simply as possible”

Jake looks through your physics book and when you look at his big, veiny hands. You are getting wet. You wonder how you would feel if he choked or fingered you with them.

He starts to explain the subject to you. For the first half hour you listen and even start to understand something because he explains to you in a very simple and interesting way.

But then you are more and more distracted. You rest your elbow on the table and put your head on your hand. you look or rather stare at him.

He is so damn attractive. And also the fact that he is so smart makes you more and more horny for him. You really want to fuck with him.

,,is everything okay?” You hear his voice, which wakes you up from your fantasies about him. Probably he noticed that you’re not focused. You quickly straighten up and you say perplexed

,, yes..”

Jake smirks slightly and your heart beats faster. He starts dictating a note to you and you write it down. When he finish speaking he lean toward you. You immediately smell his perfume. He smells so good.

He is so close that you can practically hear his breath.Your heart beats even faster if it’s possible. Out of the corner of his eye he looks at you

Something tells you that he did it on purpose. You can sense it in the tension between you.

He leans back but you have the impression that the chairs you are sitting on are getting closer to each other.

After the tutoring, you leave his house. And damn, you already know that you may not learn much physics, but Jake is the most handsome and charming man you've ever seen and you need to do something about it.

On the other hand, Jake thinks about you the same. When he saw first saw you he thought that you are the prettiest girl he has ever seen. He is not stupid he noticed how you look at him. But for now he will tease you and see what comes out of it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

It's been two weeks since your first meeting and Jake is tutoring you several times a week.

Through each meeting you became closer and closer to each other . Often you dont talk only about physics but about normal topics and got to know each other.

You found out a lot of things about him. For example, he born and when he was younger he lived in Australia or that he graduated with two degrees. You have to admit that he’s really interesting and smart (plus very sexy hehe)

The other thing that is not hard to miss is the huge sexual tension between you two. Small and seemingly random touches light a fire in your body.

For example, Jake just happened to want to turn a page in a book at the time you did, and then your hands would touch, or he would claim he couldn't hear you and move your chair closer to his even though you were sitting very close.

On purpose when you go to him you put on more and more skimpy clothes. You see his gaze linger a little too long on your figure, or how he look at your lips instead of your eyes when he explains something to you.

You both know very well that you want each other. however, neither Jake nor you have made any concrete move yet. You are exhausted by this and you are thinking of doing something about it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

You sit next to each other on chairs. Today is your pre-last tutoring before the exam. However, you care more about making something happen between you. You've been horny for him since you first met him. You don't want to wait any longer.

You wore shorter skirt than usual and sweater today. You saw Jake watching you when you entered his apartment.

He explains some task to you although you don’t listen to him at all. You look at him as if he were the prettiest painting you've ever seen.

His eyebrows are slightly drawn together and he looks at you intensely. He speaks slowly and tries to explain everything in the simplest but most accurate way possible. His lips look so pretty and enticing.

You got the impression that he looks even hotter today than last time. His T-shirt showed perfectly his veins on his arms and he had different glasses than last time which perfectly highlighted his nose.

,,YN, are you even listening to me?”

You see that he bites his lip-you have noticed that this is his habit and sometimes he does it unintentionally. He raises his eyebrow and looks at you.

,, yes, I’m listening but I'm a little distracted” you answer and you look at his plump lips.

His smile widens and he looks deeply into your eyes. He asks curiously even though he knows exactly what is on your mind ,, What got you so distracted?”

You look at him and delicate blush appears on your cheeks. You know that this is your chance ,, I don’t know. I guess I've had enough of the physics. I need a break”

Jake looks at you intently and he answers calmly ,, okay, as you wish princess”

When you hear him say the pet name so naturally you get butterflies in your stomach. You lay finger on your lips and you play with your lip. You smile at him and you don’t break eye contact.

Jake when he watches you he loses his temper. He knows that he has to do something ,, c’mere, sit on my lap”

You listen to him and you sit on his lap. You put your hands behind his neck You get hot when you are so close. You look at his lips and then at his eyes. Jake notices this and grins ,,what happened, baby? Would you like to kiss me?”

You bite your lip slightly and Jake gently touches your lips with his finger while looking at them carefully. He wonders how pretty they would look around his dick.

Jake brings his face to yours and gently brushes his lips against yours. You begin to kiss each other subtly and sweetly. You have chills down your spine.

You deepen the kiss, you feel Jake exploring your lip with his tongue and you moan quietly into his mouth. You think that you've never felt so good when someone kissed you before

His hands moved sensually over your body. You felt his erection grow beneath you. You deliberately began to wriggle in his lap.

All the time you didn’t pull away from the kiss. It was more and more passionate and hot between you. You hear Jake begin to moan silently.

You pull away from the kiss and you feel Jake's hands on your waist. You whisper "bedroom"

Jake immediately knows what you're about and takes you in his arms. All the way to his bedroom you kiss and don’t take your hands off each other. When you enter the room Jake puts you on his bed.

He looks at you,his eyes darken and he delights ,,fuck baby, you look so pretty under me”

Your flushed face, reddened lips from an earlier passionate kiss and teasing smile arouses something in him. He thinks he's about to go crazy

His cock grows in his pants just because he looks at you. He thinks you're so cute when you're lying underneath him and so desperate for him.

,,Jake.., please do something” you beg him when you notice that jake is staring at you. And you honestly love it but you are desperate and need his touch.

,,for you everything, princess” he starts kissing and gently nibbling your neck. You moaned quietly in pleasure when he did it . You already know that he will leave marks on your neck

Jake begins to lift your t-shirt and looks at you with a questioning gaze asking for your permission. You nod and he pulls down your t-shirt and then your bra. He gently touches one of your nipples and licks and nibbles the other with his tongue.

You groan at the feeling. No one has ever touched you as good as jake. You squirm and whine.

Jake notices this how desperate you are. You are such a mess underneath him but he loves it. Your moans for him are like the prettiest voice he has ever heard.

He smiles, raises an eyebrow when he looks at you and says teasingly ,,tell me sweetie, where do you want me to touch you?”

You moan and look up at him. His disheveled hair from your touch, his mean grin and plump reddened lips make your pussy drip even more.

,,please… I need your month and fingers in my pussy”

Smile from his face doesn’t disappear when you beg him so nicely. He gently pulls down your skirt and you are left in just your panties. He lies down between your thighs and he puts your legs over his shoulders.

He slowly touches your clit with two fingers through your panties. He sees the wet spot on them and says in a deep voice ,, Your pussy is so wet and eager just for me, isn't it?”

,,o-only for you jakey…” you answer and keep your hands firmly on the sheet. Jake pulls down your panties and begins to touch your clit with one finger. he deliberately and gently moves his finger from top to bottom. You gasp and squirm.

,, jakey pleasee….. I need more”

At your request, he inserts two fingers into your cunt and you moan at the feeling when jake purrs ,,mmm, your pussy is so tight around my fingers”

Jake quickly and thoroughly fingers you and then adds his mouth. He starts eating your pussy like a hungry man. You moan loudly at the sensation.

He licks and nibbles your clit with his tongue and on top of that he fingers you with three fingers. He hits all the spots perfectly

,,fuck, you taste so sweet”

You have never felt so good before. You roll your eyes and hold your hands tightly in his hair. All you can hear in the room are your cries of his name and the wet sounds of your pussy as he inserts his fingers into you.

You feel that you are about to come, and you know that it will be the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced ,, fuck, jake… I-I feel s-soo goodd!!”

You moan and scream. Your back arches as you feel the knot in your stomach can burst at any moment. He doesn't stop. He starts fingering you even harder as far as possible perfectly reaching your G-spot.

,, jakeeee!!!! I’m cumming!!!!!” You scream when you cum at his face and fingers. You shout his name all the time. you have never came so intensely just because someone fingered and ate you out.

Your legs are shaking. ,, fuck doll,you’re so pretty when you cum on me” You feel Jake licking all your juices from your pussy and you moan quietly at the sensation.

You catch eye contact. you see that jake has your juices on his lips and nose. Damn, he looks so hot. You slowly sit up and jake draws you in for a passionate and desperate kiss.

You desire each other further so much. You taste yourself on his tongue. You start touching his cock through his pants and he quietly moans at the sensation

You pull away from the kiss and want to pay him back. However, he has other plans and says as he pulls off his shirt ,, baby, another time, I have to fuck you now”

You are breathing hard and your pussy is wet again just by his words. Jake gets up from the bed and pulls down his pants and boxers. You watch his every move.

And oh God. You’ve never seen a prettier body. He looks like he is some kind of god. He is athletic and you can see that he spends a lot of time in the gym.

And his cock? He is big, thick and stringy. You yourself don't know how your little pussy will take it all in.

He sees you staring at him and raises an eyebrow and smiles ,,hmm honey, do you like what you see?"

You nod and practically drool over him. He crouches in front of you on the bed and puts your legs over his shoulders. He pumps his cock a few time.

He holds your wrists behind your head and says seductively in a deep voice ,, will you be my good girl and you’ll take all my cook in your little pussy?”

your pussy is already so soaked for the second time and you want him to fuck you already. in a shaky voice you answer ,, yes!!! Please…. Fuck mee!”

His cock stands and when he hears you wanting him he puts the tip into your pussy. You moan at the feeling. He slowly enters further. You roll your eyes and moan his name.

Jake feels how warm and tight you are around him and thinks he could come already. He lays his head on your shoulder and breathes hard as he starts to move

,,mmmm j-jakeyy..” You moan as his cock thrusts into your pussy at a steady pace. Never before has anyone fucked you as well as he has. His big cock hits deep inside you in places you didn't know existed.

,,mhmm.. you feel so fucking full” He teases and and thrusts firmly into you ,, I'm sure you've wanted to have your tutor's cock pushed deep into your pussy for a long time”

You know you won't last long when he fucks you too good. You scream and purr louder and louder by the second.

He keeps his hands on your hips thrusting into you harder and harder. His cock twitches inside you and he knows he is close now

,,princess, you feel so good” He fucks you hard and fast. And whispers dirty words in your ear. He starts kissing your neck and massaging your clit. You moan his name loudly and feel that your second orgasm will be even more intense than the first.

Your lips part. You cum and squirts around his dick. You close your eyes and you feel ecstasy. Jake, meanwhile, loudly moans your name and asks in a shaky voice ,, Can I fill you up? Your pussy will be all filled in my cum”

,, yes-ss, pleaseee!!”you moan when you feel that jake paints your walls with his cum and pounding into you one last time

You breathe loudly as you feel Jake gently come out of you. cum from your pussy spills onto his bed sheets.

Jake goes into the bathroom and brings a towel to wipe the mess between your legs. Then he puts the towel on the floor.

You lie in his bed and wonder what will happen next. Jake sits down next to you and asks sweetly ,,are you feeling okay?"

You look at him and when you see how he cares for you your pulse speeds up.

You think you already know that you are in love with him.

,, yes Jake, it was amazing” you answer with a soft and tired smile. His smile widens and he lies down next to you. He opens his arms and you move closer to him.

You lie in each other's arms. Jake leaves kisses on your shoulder and cheek. there is a comfortable silence between you. Suddenly Jake speaks up ,,how about when you pass your physics exam I will take you out on a date?"

You raise an eyebrow and answer ,,it sounds amazing, but why wait until the exam?”

Jake giggles quietly and says bringing his lips closer to yours

,,it will be your prize baby”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

Thank you for reading! ♥︎

[menlove]

queer paul tome pt 1: everything not related to john

okay i've been saying i'd make this post forever and it's uh. long. so i decided to split it up into four parts so i can get this first bit out and let it stop haunting me and so it's not 50 miles long.

feel free to add your own if it's not here or shoot me an ask and i'll add it :)

disclaimer: i'm not definitively saying sir paul mccartney is queer. i mean i really firmly think he is but it's all just speculation. also, if he is, there's obviously a reason he's not out about it & he deserves to have his privacy respected. i just personally find the dominant narrative in the fandom & even in larger spaces that poor pining queer john was in love with tragically heterosexual paul completely unconvincing and neeeeeed to be insane for a minute here

if this pisses u off u can simply scroll on by i do not need an essay in my notes. make your own post if you disagree.

(paul doing this for whatever reason in beverly hills, 1974- also the same trip he saw john on bc sure i guess)

this doesn't include lyrics as the main argument bc i saw a post ages ago basically saying there's nothing outside of them and lowkey i took that as a challenge because there's SO much outside of his lyrics that point to him being queer.

that being SAID, this is going to be split into four posts: not john related (most important and thus first bc there's so much documented about mclennon & john being queer, but not paul by himself), john related, paul's relationships w other men (these ones aren't all like... concrete and that's why they aren't included here but w all the context that'll come before it his relationships to certain men are..... interesting), and finally lyrics last bc some of them you genuinely can't just ignore

part 2- john related part 3- other men part 4- lyrics (those will have links once i actually make them)

also, i'm sure people have made similar posts before- i haven't seen them (other than this one an anon sent while i was writing this up which is sooo interesting but does have a lot of dead links) but if you have one you want to share feel free!

time to get into it. i'm avoiding homework by doing this.

(sidenote: not including instances of him just flirting w men bc body language can be read a lot of different ways- but if y'all wanna add any i know they're a dime a dozen like w george m., mal, random reporters, robert fraser, etc)

1- "Just kidding, Linda..."

REPORTER: You're a very, very good looking man. PAUL: [sits up straighter, making a sort of campy gesture towards the crowd, turning into a point] Get that boy's name. [Drops his hand, smiling and leaning his cheek on his hand.] Just kidding, Linda. REPORTER: [unintelligible] PAUL: What? REPORTER: I said- do you have a secret, looking so nice for fifty years? PAUL: [grins, resting his chin on his hand again and batting his eyelashes] Yes, it's the drugs, you know.

(originally posted on here by @northernsongspeels who hasn't been active in a while) this one is so crazy to me. he's so obviously flirting with that man and he's apologizing to linda for flirting with that man. like it's a conversation they've had before.

2- "Yes, boys."

this video (originally posted by @ilovedig here)

PAUL: Yes, I think the main difference is that when you are that age- which I'm sure you remember, Tom- TOM: It's back there in the dim distant past, yes. PAUL: When you're that age, that's the kind of thing to do. I mean, what you're doing is you're going 'round and you're basically looking for girls or whatever turns you on and stuff. So, uh, yeah, I- TOM: Well- well could you give me the alternatives to girls? Are there others? LINDA: [scoffs] PAUL: Yes, boys. TOM: Oh! No.

3- "He's so good looking."

Paul McCartney first read the name and saw the photo (for weeks there was just one crazy photo of Elvis available in Britain) during a free period at Liverpool Institute. Again, it was a friend with the NME, and there was an advert for Heartbreak Hotel. "I thought, 'He's so good looking,'" Paul says, "he just looked perfect." Mark Lewisohn, All These Years Vol. 1 Tune In, sourced from the Anthology TV series by Lewisohn.

4- "A Nice Person Girl"

this fun little interview... (originally posted by @amoralto idk why the archive.org capture of it looks funky but the audio is still there) take it w a grain of salt bc it can also just read as a homophobic joke but like.

August 22nd, 1966 (Warwick Hotel, New York): As DJ “Cousin Brucie” Morrow conducts brief interviews with each of the Beatles, one by one, he asks Paul to settle the rumours that have been circulating in the press about the status of his relationship with Jane Asher. MORROW: Moving over here to Paul – someone just handed me a card. I guess this is… [focusing] Last year, when you were on my microphone here— PAUL: Ask me something about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Rick Sklar? That’s my boss. JOHN: Ask Paul about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Uh, Paul, last year when you were on my microphone, I think somebody – one of your staff – announced an engagement of you and Jane. PAUL: Uh… MORROW: Do you remember that? It was announced on the air. And then I remember we said something on the air and then thousands of people from the street went, “Oh.” What is it with you and Jane now? How – what is your relationship? Are you planning a marriage, planning an engagement, are you just boyfriend and girlfriend, what is it? Tell us the whole thing. JOHN: [mutters; inaudible] PAUL: Uh. We’re just queer, that’s the scene. [uproarious laughter in background] That’s the scene. Well I mean, I couldn’t say that on the air live, you know. JOHN: No, you’ll get into trouble for it. PAUL: No, the thing is, Cousin Bruce – um, we haven’t got plans to marry yet, you know. That’s the point. And that business about somebody saying we were engaged, nobody actually said it. It was just another one of those things where someone says, “Are they engaged?” and they said, “Well, whatever it is… [muttering]” “Yes, folks, they’re engaged!” And it wasn’t true. MORROW: Well, I’m sure there are a lot of girls who are very happy with this. What would you look for, in a girl? Say you did eventually want to settle down, what would you want to – what kind of girl would you like? What would you – what would you like in a gal you wanted to marry eventually, bring home to Mommy? PAUL: Uh… Female hormones. MORROW: Female. What’ll you go for, any – what, blonde, brunette, what? PAUL: Uh, you know, anything. Anything. Girls. It doesn’t matter if they’re blonde, brunette, or anything, as long as they’ve got it. MORROW: Would you want a nice person – what? A beautiful nice person girl. PAUL: Yeah, you know. A nice person girl. (transcription directly from @amoralto, bold mine)

and again this one COULD just be a lil homophobic joke but idk man his tone here is very different and the fact that he says he couldn't say that on air & john says he'll get in trouble is just. interesting. it's Interesting.

5- "A 26 year old queer never to get married."

Half an hour later it was very quiet, except for a few sobs, and then we decided that we had to see him just once more. We opened the gates and walked slowly in. Someone rang the doorbell. Waited, no one came, rang again. Rang again. Paul answered. We just stood there. God what do we say? "Yes, what do you want?" he said, as if we'd just come to borrow sugar. C. ran out. Someone asked if it was tomorrow, and he said, "Tomorrow." It went quiet again. "What's this - Heartbreak Hotel? What do you think I am a 26 year old queer never to get married? Oh, stick around kids!" We just looked at each other. Oh God, Paul, what have we done now. All we wanted to do was stand there and talk awhile. What was the point in shouting at us like that? We stood there, tears falling but there was no sound. "Apple Scruffs Come to Dinner" by Andrew Bailey, 1970 (x), bold mine

again, like the last one, this one is very... i think he was absolutely being homophobic here, but it's a very telling outburst. like he's yelling this harsh enough to make these girls cry.

6- Harry Harrison's "gorgeous tan"

moving onto this wild quote from many years from now by barry miles about george's older brother (bold mine):

"George Harrison’s elder brother Harry had been to Christmas Island and arrived back with a gorgeous tan in his army uniform and we thought, My God, he’s been made a man of. You used to see this quite regularly, people would be made a man of."

7/8- gender neutral language

let's get into some interesting gender neutral language he uses. now, would this be Particularly compelling with a modern celebrity? not really. but most people his age really don't talk gender neutrally unless it's to be vague On Purpose. like this bit from many years from now, where before this he'd been using exclusively "girl" and "she/her" pronouns talking about hookups, it suddenly shifts to very purposefully vague (bold mine):

With a lot of those people I met and related to, albeit for a short time, I've mercifully forgotten them and I don't really remember what went on, thank goodness. There may have been a few drinks involved and I was a little merry and, you know, you slip back to someone's flat... My main feeling really is one of relief. You do feel like some of it was outrageous. But I'm glad to have had a slightly outrageous period in my life, as long as it didn't hurt anybody, because I'd always felt maybe my character was too careful. I think the great thing was I never had any deep, dark secrets. That's what the papers wanted. They wanted me to be hiding a little Miss Whiplash somewhere, and for the flat to be in my name. But it was never that. It was always a one-night stand with whoever was around and wanted to party.

this next one take w a grain of salt bc the source Is cited but looking it up online only brings up tumblr blogs. the source does seem to exist but i'm being so real i don't care enough to go and buy the source but if anyone wants to and wants to fact-check it have at it. bold mine:

Favourite Drink: If I could only choose one drink it would have to be water. When I’m a bit hung over that’s all I can take. But I still like a Scotch and Coke. I can’t overdo it any more. Four’s my maximum, four and I’m anybody’s. (official program booklet for The Paul McCartney World Tour (1989-90): Lifelines. (1989))

what's also interesting about this one is it's when him and linda were married, which gives some credence to the rumors that they maybe had an open relationship (men or not). it also makes me think of the "just kidding, linda" thing lmao. she can't take her husband anywhere or he's going to be fagging it up the second he gets 4 drinks in him.

9/10/11- the "binary" (ft. a bit of john)

this infamous quote from the lyrics in his section on "hello goodbye" (bold mine) (x):

I'm attracted to the binary. I state that quite casually, but I think there’s actually a lot more to it than my just saying, ‘I’m attracted to the binary.’ Once you get down to the scientific biological level, in my core, I probably am the binary. All of us are probably more binary than we might realise.

context being that when he says "the binary" he means duality. there's a lot of interesting stuff going on in this article, though there's some more john related stuff i'll add here too bc it's super fascinating (sorry, easier to go here than the john section!):

‘Hello, Goodbye’ shows off a binary that we took great advantage of in The Beatles. With regard to John Lennon and myself, the great attraction we had for each other was that we each had a bit the other didn’t have. John could be quite cynical. I was his opposite, in that respect. [...] I think there definitely was a sort of ‘hello, goodbye’ about John and myself. But we loved it. We loved it because John could contribute his caustic wit and I could contribute something more upbeat. Not always, we each did what the other one did from time to time. But if you had to break it down – and though it is a bit crude to say so – there was a binary tension at the heart of our songwriting together.

12- big guys at the gym

onto something more lighthearted and also just ridiculous (x):

"If I'm in a gym and all the big guys have got big weights and they're doing all the big stuff, at the end I do a headstand," he said. "And they come over to me [and say], 'That's pretty impressive man.'" ["78-year-old Paul McCartney’s fitness routine includes headstands and yoga with Alec Baldwin" by Cory Stieg]

13- gay dreams

this infamous quote which i have a bit of a different take on that i'll expand on in a sec (bold mine)

My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don’t call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, “Shit, am I gay?” I like that you don’t have control over it. But there is some control – it is you dreaming, it is your mind it’s all happening in. In a way my equation would be that my computer is fully loaded by now. Maybe in younger people there’s a little bit of loading to go, but mine’s loaded pretty much, so what I try and do is allow it to print out unbeknown to me. And I’m interested to hear what it’s got in there. (interview by Karen Wright for Luigi's Alcove, 2000) (x)

a lot of people use this to point to him being oblivious, which i do get, but i want to focus more on the line "it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in". like he seems interested and fascinated by the revelations we have in our dreams- hardly repressed or scared.

14- royston ellis' "break me in easy"

we've all been over the royston ellis poem and i don't want to just retype out everything that's already on this post so go check out @eppysboys' post on the royston ellis poem!

but tl;dr a bisexual friend of theirs in liverpool, royston ellis, wrote this poem called "Break Me In Easy":

Easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure I’m big time, cock-sure and brash, but easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure they’ve been others, I know the way…

which is about gay sex. he also told the boys that 1 in every 5 men was gay and paul worried that it might be him (this was back in 1960). he still remembered it line for line by 2006 which is just insane. all the sources for those are over on the linked post.

15- woody pecker

originally posted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore here (links to my blog bc the wayback machine was not cooperating right but as long as it stays up you can find the original here!)

PAUL & DONOVAN: How to suck a lollypopper, Sitting on a woodypecker, Dancing in the double-decker shoe, I don’t know, So, how do you do? PAUL: I don't know how you do it, Lordy, knows I try But every time I try to do it, My whole darn tongue gets ti(r)ed

this one is just so sillyyyyy and cute but it's just so full of innuendo like sucking on a lollypop and sitting on a woody pecker and your tongue getting tied (tired?) when you try to suck the uh lollypop. giggling his way through it with one of his boy best friends donovan too.

16- "i heard he was gay"

this fun little quote from body count by francie schwartz:

When the rotation of bike, gun, and other diversions left me alone with Billy, his first words were, "You went with Paul McCartney, didn’t you?" "I bet you just love it when people ask you about your father, don't you?" He was surprised, he half-frowned. "No, really, what's Paul like? I heard he was gay." "He might have gone that way, but he didn't. He really didn't dig fucking all that much, if that's any kind of an answer."

note here though that francie is a notoriously unreliable source on paul. she hates him and honestly makes some pretty homophobic digs at him & others pretty frequently. so it is interesting that she denies he's gay, but says he might have gone that way. given how short of a time they were together and how weird their relationship was, i wouldn't really expect him to be open about that with her- still, she noticed something there too.

17- homosexual handbook

paul was mentioned in the homosexual handbook by angelo d'arcangelo in 1968 under a list of famous homosexuals. it's very tongue in cheek and says this "may just be wishful thinking on (my) part"

and obviously not proof as the book takes a very playful and unserious tone. he does provide this little disclaimer though, which i think is interesting:

Some of the men on this list are self-acknowledged homosexuals. Some are not. All of them are generally thought to be gay. However, as many family men and notorious womanizers appear on these pages, we must—rather than question their forays into either or both sexes—congratulate them on their obvious virility.

because once again like... WHERE are these rumors about paul being gay? because the rest of this list, as far as i can tell (ngl i did not do a deep read there) are men who have/had gay rumors about them or were gay. this comes up more in the john post as well, but i seriously need to know just how many rumors there were about him being gay.

18- "the female hordes"

It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, 'Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.' I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes, and I think we all must have given the same impression. There had been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls. (from Anthology)

i know putting one of his "un-gay" quotes here is counter intuitive but listen i have genuinely never heard a gayer thing come out of a man's mouth than "hunting of the female hordes" it sends me to fucking mars every time i read it. that's the most closeted shit i've ever read in my entire life. it sounds like what a gay man would say trying to come up with something a straight man would say. and i think paul's bi, he just desperately wants me to think he's never gotten pussy a day in his damn life with this quote.

as a side-note, "all the intimate moments we shared were always about girls". now what do you mean by that man..... like shared as in verbally told stories? or do you mean it was always about the girls when you guys were...... intimate? because those are two really different things and i need to know what the hell that's supposed to mean

19/20- this poor man just wants to flirt with and kiss men can we let him

okay tumblr has nerfed me and won't let me add any more videos from tumblr but there's a video of drunk paul almost kissing ringo jokingly. posted by @stewy here and as long as it's up you can reblog it here- thank u for the contribution to my red stringing lmfao

pringo for once thank god but. i don't even have anything to say except to point and think of a slur. drunk as hell flirting with your best friend what's better than that.

and then this whole interaction between paul & elton john where they kiss on the mouth

and i could so buy that this is a straight man and gay man just being comfortable together except well see above and see the other posts but also paul's very much adapting a softer, "campier" tone around him and calling him babe/darling in a very, again, gay way. not as in he's gay For elton john lmfao but this is how to old gay friends would greet each other do you see what i mean do you understand me......

anyway that's the end of part 1 join me next time (whenever the fuck i decide to avoid doing homework again um) this man has sucked a dick i'm so sure of this. (not really don't sue me for libel paul love ya)

[iamtherlan]

Let's get into a massive deep dive into developing S.A.M - The Strong Arm Machine from Jetpack Joyride!

We wanted to add something that kept people engaged with the game, and kept the game relevant in a sea of "runner" games. We also wanted to own the game ourselves - this was the first big update from a new team taking over from the original "Ninja Pack" group.

Our first attempt was to build into - what was all this stuff was actually for? So the thought was an agent that you had to knock over and get their briefcase. This is a quick mockup I made.

And here's the prototype!

And.. it's not very fun! Kind of boring to deal with. So.. let's try something different!

What about a Sonic styled Egg-O-Matic? Looks more fun, but doesn't feel right. Barry smashing his face into it doesn't look right - especially when the game is about avoiding things.

So then we asked - what's the COOLEST thing we could do? What about a Scientist police squad? You have to avoid the rockets, while hitting the squad. Okay, but still felt a bit meh, and not great for smaller phones.

What about.. a T-Rex chase, Jurassic Park style? A quick mockup I had done.

In this case, a T-Rex would be behind you, and you're trying to destroy it with missiles. But avoiding missiles is super difficult.

What about... A Mega Barry? Some kind of Rock, Paper system mechanism? Eh, too complicated.

Let's simplify! What if you were in a giant robot that you need to shield? Some mockups I made using Metal Slug sprites.

And here's a prototype! Marvel Vs. Capcom Cap shield and T-Rex fit in well. It's a new Jetpack Joyride mechanic - you have to hit everything, rather than avoid! We have our mechanic!

Some concepts. First it was a big Barry, but why would the scientists make this? Something more menacing, more "Legitimate Industries".

An early version with a fire cannon instead, but it didn't really fit either. Needed to be a shield!

Let's talk about the S.A.M building sequence! We wanted to make sure that this felt epic, so it's built in 3 different sections!

S.A.M has 21 pieces in all, and a lot of destructibility. I feel for the people now who make skins for him!

And here's a bit of final gameplay! Big robot, bashing through stuff. He's got 3 hits to him, which makes him very useful, and hopefully get you back every day to play him again!

Using S.A.M means you got a daily challenge! Collect 5 and get a unique piece of clothing!

We added 16 new costumes at the time - so 32 unique pieces. To collect them all means playing for 160 days! That'd be great retention! Plus you could buy a present directly, which increased our spending too!

One of the fun things about S.A.M is his name. In other languages, we made sure his name also also used the S.A.M code.

How did this go? Huge! Our retention went up by 10%, and people loved it! It was a great addition to the game, and has been expanded upon a lot since.

And that was S.A.M!

[jscrawls]

Grave mistakes

Gotham City is full of a lot of characters, criminals, creepy clowns, man eating plants, eccentric billionaires. But all that rolled into one household?

Warning: contains mentions of poor mental health, death, general spooky stuff, it's an Addams reader they're gonna be freaky,

Part 1: digging dirt

🔹🔹🔹

Jason's having one of those days, his hands ache a little too much, his scars pulling a little too tight, the ringing of metal as someone worked on their car grit in his ears a little too loudly, It's overstimulating. he doesn't even feel Like…..a person right now, he feels more like a body caring for itself. So he did what he usually does when he's not quite all there, he walks. Wanders around until he finds somewhere quiet enough to stuff himself back into his own head, until his body feels like him again. And that's how he found himself here of all places, a graveyard, the graveyard. Someone's still taking care of it, it seems. The grass is neatly manicured and the stone is moss free, he hates that in a way. The stupid gravestone looks like it's been shown more care than he has. He hates that he can still clearly read it.

“What a dreadful graveyard, you must be very proud of it.” A mystery voice chimes from behind him, who the fuck snuck up on him?

Spinning around with a snarl on his lip, Jason's greeted by the sight of a….Goth witch? That doesn't bode well on Bruce's property.

“Who the ever loving fuck are you?” his hand rests on the grip of his gun, warning enough to not try anything too hasty. Damn what if they're a meta-

“oh excuse my manners, I'm your new neighbor.” The mystery goth steps closer without any hesitation and holds out their hand, their other hand holding a…casserole dish? Oh right, Alfred mentioned something about a neighbor…They introduce themselves as an Addams like they're not standing in a graveyard and he's armed, alright then…

“Okay…I'm Jason Todd...? I'm not your neighbor though, i don't live here.” He glances back down at the gravestone, his gravestone-

“Oh? Then i suppose you'll just be my new friend then instead of my new neighbor.” They glance down at the stone as well, noticing the obvious. “Oh is that yours? You have one already picked out and placed? How macabre!” They smile, Jason's gut twists at the sight.

“No it's not-that's just uhh…don't worry about it alright? I used it and then.. Got better?” Jason wants to bury himself Alive right now, what kind of an answer is that? They just had to catch him on one of his bad days.

“you know, my dear grandmama has done that quite a few times. The lady just can't seem to stay buried for more than a few weeks at a time. One of these days…” The goth sighs wistfully at that, seeming unbothered. Are they mocking him?

“I'm not on the mood for jokes.” He grunts out, shoving his hands in his pockets and going to step around them. He'd prefer to wallow in his fucked up mental state without an audience.

“Grandmama’s perchance for breaking the barriers between the living and the dead is no laughing matter my new-not-neighbor-friend, say do you know the man living here? I'd like to return this to it's rightful owner before the poltergeists smash it.”

Jason stares at them for a long, silent moment. They said all that with a straight face. Must be committed to their aesthetic to the nth. The thought of seeing Bruce right now sounds about as enjoyable as crawling on broken glass on his hands and knees, but they seem to expect something from him. God he hates social obligations…

“I'm not even gonna ask, give me the dishes and I'll get em back to Bruce.”

“Who is ‘Bruce’? I was under the impression the resident here was named Alfred.”

“No that's the butler- wait, you don't know who your neighbor is? How can you move in beside one of the wealthiest man in the country without knowing?”

“oh is Gomez here? That sneaky devil already bought property in this wonderful city without telling me? Oh I could die of jealousy!"

The goth seems…happy? Jason doesn't want to snap them out of it just yet. They're obviously crazy and he's not ready to deal with the fallout. He's ready to just say fuck it and leave, but he doesn't want to leave Alfred to deal with them…

“Gomez? No this is Bruce Wayne's house. You know, billionaire philanthropist?” he turns towards the back of the mansion and starts walking, ready to go drink until he can't see his reflection straight on. Who cares that it's only four in the afternoon.

“Wayne? Was he the one in Jersey shore?” They say with curiosity, stepping after him with casserole dish in hand.

that actually gets a startled laugh out of Jason, picturing Bruce on Jersey shore with Nikki and big Mike. “No, God no. That'd be a sight to see though…. You don't seem the type to watch that show, i bet supernatural is more your thing, what with the whole….goth thing.” Is he making conversation? Wow, go Jason i guess.

“i enjoy the chaos and violence.” Is all they say, following him to the manor.

“…alright fair enough.” He falls silent again, the only sound being the crunching of leaves underfoot. God he's not good at this, this feels awkward very quickly. At least to him, they seem intrigued with the sights of the graveyard.

“so how did you die, I'm assuming you used the gravestone in death. Yes? Not unless you enjoy a little being buried alive action, i dabble in it time to time myself so don't feel awkward. Do tell.”

Do they have to press on about that? What kind of freaky shit are they into- “you're fucking demented.” he hisses out before he can catch himself, wow way to make a nice impression on Bruce's new, probably rich if they're buying up land in this neighborhood, neighbor.

“Oh? Aren't you a romantic one, My new-not-my-neighbor-friend.”

“…that wasn't-can we drop this? You're driving me nuts.”

“You're very sweet, perhaps we can explore this another time then. Please tell Alfred the casserole was positively horrible! Toodles!”

And just like that they turn on their heel and leave, disappearing into the- wait why is it suddenly foggy? Jason shakes his head and briefly ponders whether any of that was even real, or if he's gone off the deep end this time. The weight of the casserole dish on his arm the only thing assuring him he's not full blown hallucinating like certain people he knows.

He gets a few steps closer to the manor when he pauses again, he feels…. Okay. Not great but…he feels like a human instead of a ghost occupying a body. Huh. Guess meeting someone crazier than you'll fix you.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: ngl I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, Jason's fun to write! Any feedback is appreciated as I figure out how to write other ppls POV TYYYYY 🖤💜🖤💜

[transformers-spike]

tfp knock out getting fascinated by human anatomy in of itself. this is me projecting here, but finding out about intersex people and getting interested in the anatomy of it all. pop in tfp soundwave and shockwave, too. what do you mean the dna and chromosomes of humans are complex?

reader having congenital adrenal hyperplasia and being really self conscious of it. thinking they look weird in their vagina for not being "normal". how their uterus and inner testicles hurt on a period.

i can imagine the three get interested and want to learn more. they do the research and ask questions since the reader educates them that most things are outdated or are very harmful stereotypes. knock out is frustrated that the porn he sees with humans who have similar interfacing equipment like cybertronians are fetishizing the difficulties.

so, as his apology towards reader, he is abusing the fact that the reader's "anterior node" is always puffy and big. watching as they squirm and cry from overstimulation from the simple motions.

soundwave is in love with how hairy reader's bush is and seeing that happy trail. he possibly purrs with his engines to comfort reader, letting them know that he adores them. all of them. they may think they are weird or a freak, but he does not. they are perfect.

shockwave... experiments. he is able to take what sciences he has learned and asks questions how they affect interfacing. reader gets to explain that certain areas are a lot more sensitive like their ass. he enjoys watching them grab at his seams and their body trembling overload after overload.

Oh gosh I've been trying to figure out what to add to this - it's really lovely. The best I can come up with is some extra insight regarding Knock Out and his relationship to pornography (yes you read that right). I assume there wasn't much of it on Cybertron to begin with (at least compared to Earth), and the war made this material nearly impossible to get ahold of. Once KO finds out there is better content than drive in theater flicks, he's obviously going to scour the internet. Yeah, while he's going to be ecstatic at finally seeing someone with a familiar interface array, a lot of it goes down the drain once he figures out fetishism is a thing. Sure, you could find content based on frame types back on Cybertron, but no one was being sexualized just by existing. The only fetishization he truly cared about was interface biolight mods (which he partook bc he loved the look - it made him feel hotter). But hearing that a society so based on sexual content is fetishizing an entire group of people that want nothing to do with this type of media in the first place is???? Well it kind of fucks him up. Yes, he will absolutely abuse any kind of info you give him about your genitals - once he figures out how to get you off, he's going to rub your anterior nodes together until you both overload. Shockwave should not be trusted because he's going to test out your body's limits in the name of science or some shit - making you cum so much until you forget your own name. Soundwave is so sweet oh god - out of all of these freaks at least he's normal about it and makes you feel okay.

[sequinsmile-x]

Alone Together

“My name is Emily Prentiss. I…live with Jack.”  

The nurse furrows her brows, “Are you his mother?” 

She clenches her jaw, cursing herself for correcting the other woman in the first place, for letting her worry fluster her to the point where she didn’t even think about letting the half-lie slip by her. She can see where this is going already, and it makes her tense, her shoulders so tight she thinks she might snap in half.

AKA - the one where Jack is in the hospital, but Emily isn't allowed to see him.

-x-

Hi besties,

Hope you are all okay <3

We are finally out of the longest January on record and at the end of another week! Here is some family hurt/comfort with our two idiots and Jack for you <3 I know a lot of you love Jack/Emily content so this is for you - you know who you are <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3,6k

Warnings: none!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily doesn’t remember a single moment of the drive from the office to the hospital. She’d been on autopilot the entire time, her hands so tight around the steering wheel her knuckles were stark white, her skin so taut over bone she was surprised it didn’t split open as she desperately tried to think back to first thing that morning, to go over her interactions with Jack again and again to see if there was anything she could have missed. 

It had been a busy morning, like most mornings were in their house, and Jack had seemed fine. He’d been a little slower than he usually was in the morning, more tired, but when she and Aaron had both asked if he was okay he’d nodded. She wished she’d pushed, that she’d asked again, but her phone had rung, and so had Aaron’s and the day started in a hurry as work pulled them in different directions. She’d left the FBI shortly after she and Aaron got together, had grabbed the opportunity that Clyde offered her of going back to Interpol with both hands, any doubt she had about it gone as soon as he told her she didn’t need to leave DC for the offer to stand. She hadn’t regretted it for a moment, had always known it was the right thing for her and her relationships with the people she loved, but right now she wished she still worked with her fiance so she knew where the hell he was. 

The school had called her because they couldn’t get hold of Aaron. It was only after she was in her car and had got hold of Dave after leaving Aaron two voicemails, that she remembered he said he was going to a prison to conduct some interviews. He wouldn’t have his phone for hours, which meant she was all Jack had for now. Dave had promised her that he’d do his best to get hold of Aaron, even if it meant going to the prison and dragging him out of the interview room himself, and it had helped calm her down a little. 

She just about remembers to lock her car behind her as she marches into the hospital, still every part of the Interpol agent that she had been when she left the office, her gun and badge still on her hip, but with an undeniable air of a concerned parent too. She walks up to the nurse's desk and clears her throat, barely waiting for the nurse to look at her before she starts speaking. 

“I got a call about Jack Hotchner,” she says, sounding less anxious than she feels, “The school nurse called to say that he has suspected appendicitis. He was fine this morning, I don’t-”

“Mrs Hotchner,” the nurse replies, her smile annoyingly kind as she cuts over her, “These things can come on very quickly in children. Your son is currently being looked over by the doctor.”

“I’m not…” she clears her throat, stopping herself before she says too much that might get her nowhere fast, “My name is Emily Prentiss. I…live with Jack.”  

The nurse furrows her brows, “Are you his mother?” 

She clenches her jaw, cursing herself for correcting the other woman in the first place, for letting her worry fluster her to the point where she didn’t even think about letting the half-lie slip by her. She can see where this is going already, and it makes her tense, her shoulders so tight she thinks she might snap in half.

“I’m engaged to his father,” she says, digging out her wallet from her purse, slamming her driving license on the counter with more force than necessary, “Look, we have the same address.”

“Be that as it may, Miss Prentiss-”

“Agent Prentiss,” she corrects, again with more force than she means to, her desire to see Jack, to see the little boy she knows she couldn’t love more if he was hers, overriding her need to be polite. She sighs and looks at the nurse's name badge, “Look, Sophie, I poured his cereal this morning. It’s me he wants when he’s sick. Can you please just let me through?” 

Sophie smiles politely, clearly sorry that her hands are tied, “I’m sorry Agent Prentiss, but we can only let a parent or a legal guardian see him.”

She thinks of the paperwork they’d filled out, the paperwork to make her his legal guardian that was currently with the courts, and she curses herself for not doing it sooner. They’d waited until the purchase of the house had been finalised, until both her and Aaron’s names were on the deeds, to organise it. Their lawyers had told them it was better if their lives were more obviously intertwined, that family court would look on the addition to her in Jack’s life in a legal aspect more favourably if they were living together permanently. 

“His dad is at work,” she says, “I’ve tried to get hold of him.” 

“And his mother?” 

“His mother is dead,” Emily replies, half shouting it, and she sighs at herself, pinching the bridge of her nose when she realises she’s drawn the attention of more people around her. “Sorry,” she chokes out, blowing out a slow breath, “Is there really no way? He’s back there by himself.” 

Sophie shakes her head, “Not until his father gets here. But a nurse is with him, he isn’t alone I promise.” 

Emily considers pulling her badge from her belt, the weight of it almost pulling her down, and waving it around until someone lets her through. She considers doing what her family had always done - throwing money around, offering to buy the hospital a new wing until she was told she could see her little boy, but she knows it won’t help her. That it won’t help Jack. So she nods and heads towards the waiting area, swallowing back the emotions she won’t set free here, letting them sink into the lowest parts of her chest as she settles into an uncomfortable plastic chair. She twists her engagement ring around her finger and sucks in a breath. It’s bitter when she blows it back out, makes her feel nauseous as she thinks of Jack in a room just out of her reach with only strangers for company. 

“Damn it,” she says, wiping away a single stray tear from her cheek, determined it will be the only one she lets slip free before she goes home. She pulls her phone from her purse and groans when she has no missed calls from Aaron, “Where the hell are you?” 

___

Sophie takes pity on her about 30 minutes after she arrives and comes to tell her that Jack needs surgery. She still can’t let her see him, something is even harder to swallow now she knows the little boy needs an operation, but Sophie says she’ll tell Jack that Emily loves him and that she’ll see him later. 

Emily watches the clock, each minute a lifetime until she gets a call from Aaron. She has to be the calm one, has to tell him everything is okay, that Jack needs his appendix taken out but that he will be fine. He says he’ll meet her at the hospital and she makes him promise that he’ll drive safely, wryly jokes that she can’t deal with both of her Hotchner boys in hospital at the same time if he gets himself into an accident. 

At least, she thinks sadly to herself, if Aaron was in hospital she’d be able to see him. 

Almost two hours after she arrived, two hours of sitting in a hard, uncomfortable chair, the ache in her back nothing in comparison to the ache in her chest, Aaron finally arrives. She hears him before she sees him, his voice calling out for her the second he spots her. 

“Emily?” 

She stands up, her purse slipping from her lap to the ground, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. Instead, she lets Aaron pull her into a fierce hug, and she hugs him back just as tightly, her hand running soothing circles on his back. 

“He’s in surgery,” she says, cupping the back of his head as she pulls back, hoping that her smile is comforting, “He should be done soon.” 

He nods, and he looks older than he usually does. Anguish and fear pressed into the lines on his face, making them and the bags under his eyes deeper, “Why are you out here? Is something wrong-”

“No, honey,” she says, cupping his cheek, making him look at her as his eyes dart around the room, “They…” she clears her throat, tries to make sure her voice is even and doesn’t give way to her sadness and stress. He was the one she had to focus on for now, him and Jack. She could fall apart later when they were both okay, “I’m not his mom. Or his legal guardian yet,” she says, pressing her lips together to stop them from shaking, “They wouldn’t let me see him.” 

His eyebrows furrow, the line between them so deep she can’t stop herself from pressing her thumb into it, trying to soothe the anger she can see building there, “What?” He says, his voice low and stern as he looks around as if trying to find someone, anyone, to tell them exactly what he thought of that, “They wouldn’t let you see him? He was alone-”

“Aaron, baby, look at me,” she says, grasping his chin, “It’s okay,” she says, even though they both know it isn’t, even though she knows he can see how much it’s upset her too, “Jack is the most important thing right now, okay?” 

He nods sharply, his breath stuttering across her face as he presses his forehead against hers, desperately trying to seek out her strength and comfort. It’s enough to let her know just how stressed he is. Their displays of affection, their need for each other, were usually kept just for the safety of their home. The walls that surrounded them were the sanctuary neither one of them had had in years, or, in her case, ever. They sought each other out constantly, always pressed up against each other in one way or another whilst they were at home, as if they were storing up the love they had for each other for when they were apart. It felt like theirs, so it was rare for them to seek it from each other in public, to let other people - especially strangers - in on what felt so precious. 

She cups the back of his head to keep him close, gives him what he needs with her forehead pressed against his. She’d let him take all her strength if he needed it, would let it leech from her skin into his, because she knew when it was her turn, when she needed his strength, he’d give it to her in return. It was a give and take that they’d had since they simply friends, a cornerstone of their relationship that she knew made them as strong, that she knew allowed them to weather whatever storm life threw at them. 

“Come on,” she says, stamping her lips against his and smiling softly as she pulls back just enough to grab her purse from the floor before she sinks into his side again, her hand tight around his, “Now you’re here, they’ll tell us more.” 

They are shown through to the pediatric ward so quickly it feels absurd. Jack is already back from surgery and in a room, and the doctor tells them that he’ll be awake soon. It’s a relief, a weight off of both of their shoulders, when they see him. He looks smaller than usual, drowning in the starched sheets in a bed made for an adult, but other than that he looks like he’s sleeping. Aaron sits in the chair closest to the bed, and Emily sits next to him, their hands still linked together as they look at the little boy.  

“We’re going to have to fill the freezer with ice cream,” Emily says, resting her cheek against Aaron’s shoulder, “We both know he’ll ask.” 

Aaron chuckles dryly and turns his head to kiss her temple, “We both know you’ll give him anything he asks for.”

She gasps in fake outrage and pulls back to look at him, “Like you’re any better at saying no.” 

He hums and leans forward to kiss her, “We’ve got to get better at it before we have any more kids,” he quips, “Otherwise they’ll run rings around us.” 

The thought of it makes her smile, just like it always did. A baby that was half her and half him, physical proof of their love for each other out in the world for everyone else to see. The happiness doesn’t linger like usual, it fades as she looks at a sleeping Jack, as she rests her hand on his leg, because she wonders if, even when she is legally his guardian, the wider world would view him any less her son than any other children they may have. 

Jack groans, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she and Aaron both turn to look at him. 

“Jack, buddy,” Aaron says, standing up so he can sit on the edge of his bed. Emily stands up too, her hands on Aaron’s shoulders as she smiles down at the little boy, “How do you feel?” 

“My tummy hurts.” 

“You had to have an operation,” Emily says, breaking away from Aaron to sit on the edge of the other side of Jack’s bed, her hand reaching out for his, smiling when he holds her hand as tightly as he can, “Your tummy will feel sore for a few days but then you’ll feel better.”

He nods, “The nurse told me that you were here but you didn’t come to see me.” 

It’s like a knife to the heart, his innocence, the lack of understanding shining in his eyes, each a fresh wound that makes her want to take back her decision to sit peacefully in the waiting room. 

“I know, sweet boy,” she says, leaning in to kiss his forehead, “I’m sorry. I would have been here if I could. But she told me that she’d let you know that I love you.” 

He leans into her hand as she strokes his cheek, “I always know you love me,” he says, and he looks between her and Aaron, “Can we go home now?” 

“You have to stay here tonight,” Aaron says, running his fingers through Jack’s hair, “But if you’re feeling better tomorrow, the doctor said you might be able to go home. I’ll stay here with you tonight so you’re not by yourself.” 

Jack looks at Emily, “Are you staying too?” 

She shakes her head, and feels Aaron’s gaze burning into her cheek, “I can’t, honey. Only one of us has to stay and it has to be Daddy.” 

It was something else the doctor told them, that one parent or guardian could stay overnight, and it had been another kick in the gut. 

Jack furrows his brows, “But then you’ll be alone at home.” 

She sucks in a breath, covering it with a smile as she looks up at Aaron for a moment before she looks back at Jack, “I’ll be okay,” she says, not sure which one of them needs to hear it the most, “And I’ll come back tomorrow with some clothes for you and Daddy.” 

“And you’ll bring Rupert?”

“And of course, I’ll bring Rupert.” She smiles as she thinks of his favourite toy, a stuffed rabbit that Aaron told her had once been bigger than Jack, and she nods, Aaron reaches over Jack for her, seeking out the hand that wasn’t in Jack’s, and she takes it, squeezing his palm against hers in an attempt to comfort them both. “I’ll be okay.” 

This time, when she says it, she thinks she might be trying to convince herself. 

___

She gets takeout on the way home. 

She eats it in the kitchen, the house unbearably quiet around her, and as soon as she puts food down for Sergio, she heads upstairs. She showers quickly, the rush of the water a welcome distraction from the emptiness of her home, and then changes into a pair of Aaron’s sweatpants and one of his swearers - cuffing the pant legs so she can walk without tripping over - settling for trying to seek comfort in the clothes of the man she loves since she can’t be in his arms. 

Before she gets into bed, she goes into Jack’s room. She picks up Rupert from his bed, buries her face in his worn fur and breathes in. She takes him with her to the master bedroom, and she sneaks under the covers, the vastness of their bed bigger than ever without Aaron next to her. She was used to sleeping without him when he was on cases, but having to do it when he was just across town felt different - especially because Jack wasn’t here to sneak into bed with her. She sighs as she pulls the covers around her, smiling sadly when Sergio jumps onto the bed with a muted thump, his meow loud in the otherwise quiet room, she reaches out to scratch between his ears.

“It’s just the two of us tonight, Serg,” she says, sighing sadly, “Just like it used to be,” he meows again, “I know, buddy. I don’t like it anymore either.” 

She jumps when her phone rings, and she sits up, scrambling for her phone, panic she’d pushed down earlier making a quick return the second she sees Aaron’s name on the screen. She answers quickly, her hold on Rupert against her chest tight. 

“Aaron? Is everything okay? Did something-”

“Em, he’s okay,” he assures her, his voice low and quiet as he cuts her off before she can spiral any further, “He’s asleep. I thought I’d call to check on you.”

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and she shakes her head at herself as the tears she’d been suppressing all afternoon spill down her cheeks, “I’m okay.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not okay. Today was a lot. It’s okay if you’re not okay too.” 

She hums, almost mad at him for how well he knew her, and she wipes her cheek before she rests it against the top of Rupert’s head, her tears dampening his fur, “I just…I forget sometimes.” 

“You forget what, baby?” 

“That I’m not his mom,” she says, unable to stop the sob that tears from her throat, the sound turning into a wet laugh as Sergio nudges at her hand, his head tilted to the side as if he’s trying to work out what’s wrong, “God, I’m sorry,” she says, sniffing, “Your son’s in the hospital and I’m the one crying.” 

“He’s our son, Emily,” he says, his voice firm and loving, “He’s yours just as much as he is mine and Haleys,” he laughs wryly, “I think we both know if given a choice, he would have wanted you to stay with him.” 

“That’s not true,” she replies automatically, “You’re the centre of his world and you know it.” 

“And you’re the sun,” he says, and she scoffs, shaking her head even though he can’t see her, “It’s true. We Hotchner men are unable to stop being drawn to you.” 

She chuckles and wipes her cheek, “If Reid were listening in, he’d remind you that the planets orbit the sun because its mass is bigger, and therefore it creates a gravitational pull,” she scrunches her nose up, “If I didn’t know better, or if you were my mother, I’d think this was a very creative way of telling me I’ve put on weight.” 

“Never, Em. You know that.” He laughs at her joke, the sound music to her ears, a far cry from the strain in his voice earlier when he’d shown up at the hospital, “Sometimes I forget I’m marrying a nerd.” 

“You love it, and you know it.” 

“I love you,” he says, and he sighs, “We’ll get the paperwork fast-tracked, Em. I know a guy who can help. This won’t happen again.” 

She hums, “Well, his appendix can’t get inflamed for a second time anyway.” 

“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah,” she says, swallowing thickly as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “I know. I love you too, by the way,” she looks over at his empty side of the bed, “Our bed is cold without you.” 

“We’ll be home tomorrow night, Jack seems to be doing well.” 

“And until then, I have Sergio and Rupert for company.” She says, and she can practically hear his smile down the phone and it’s a comfort she hadn’t known she’d needed. She sinks into the bed, pulling the covers around herself again, and she sighs contentedly. 

“Want me to stay on the line until you fall asleep?” He asks, and she almost tells him no, almost shakes off the offer and tells him she’ll be fine, but she wants this. Wants him. And until she can have him and Jack back with her, she’ll make do with what little bits of him she can have. 

“Yeah,” she says, tucking Rupert against her chest, “I’d like that.” 

She falls asleep as he tells her about his day at work, about the interview she never got to ask him about, and she knows that whilst tonight she might be alone, she certainly wasn’t lonely. 

[soluversworld]

MISTER x SHOUJO - Subaru Oogami x G.N Reader part 2!

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!

Words: 16000

Genre: G.N Reader (Fluff, Angst!)

Summary: You and Geo navigate an unconventional relationship built on misunderstanding, tension, and unexpected moments of connection. After a lie spirals out of control, rumors spread that Geo is your boyfriend, much to the confusion of everyone around you—including Geo himself. Despite his cold and hostile demeanor, Geo reluctantly agrees to play along, but only for his own peace and solitude.

Geo’s sharp, broody personality often leaves you feeling uncertain and overwhelmed. He doesn’t hesitate to criticize you, flick your forehead when you talk back, or scold you for minor mistakes. Yet, he also protects you, whether from prying classmates or persistent admirers, and even takes your hand to make a show of your “relationship” when his friends are watching.

( Reader is a g.n!)-

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of

Tension-filled dynamics with elements of power imbalance and verbal hostility’s

Rumors and social pressures leading to feelings of alienation and discomfort.

Physical gestures of dominance (e.g., flicking foreheads, pinching).

Underlying themes of unresolved trauma and complex family dynamics

Solivan Brugmanisa

Violence, Blood

EXTRA: He’s a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, Been reading a lot of Shoujo mangas why not! Make Geo and reader in such a simple plot!

The rain came down in heavy sheets, drumming against the pavement, soaking into the cracks of the worn-out sidewalk. You hadn't brought an umbrella.

Brittney and Jess stood beside you under the overhang of the school building, the cold air thick with the scent of damp earth and wet asphalt. Jess was already dialing her dad, her fingers moving with practiced ease across her phone screen.

“He’ll be here soon,” she said, glancing at you with an expression that was both neutral and expectant.

“You don’t have to—” You started, but Brittney cut you off.

“Don’t even think about saying you’re fine.” Her voice was firm, but there was warmth beneath it. “We’re friends, right? Friends take care of each other.”

Friends.

The word sank into your chest like an unfamiliar weight. It was kind. Too kind. You didn’t deserve it. Not when you were tangled up in a mess of lies and half-truths with Geo, not when—

A sharp snap broke through your thoughts. The unmistakable sound of an umbrella opening.

The three of you turned at the same time.

Geo stood there, holding a sleek black umbrella, his aquamarine eyes sharp and unreadable. His presence alone was enough to draw attention—even in the dim light of the rainy evening, he looked like something out of a different world, the mist curling around his tall frame like he belonged in it.

“Jess. Brittney.” His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it. “You two can go. I’ll take them home.”

Silence.

Jess blinked. Brittney’s eyebrows shot up.

You? With Geo?

No further explanation. No room for argument. He simply stood there, umbrella in hand, waiting.

Deryl appeared out of nowhere, slinging an arm around Geo’s shoulders with a grin that could only mean trouble. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. “Did the cold-blooded prince of archery just volunteer to be someone’s escort? What’s next? Holding hands?”

Geo’s eyes snapped toward him, sharp as a blade. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t have to. The death glare alone was enough to make Deryl lift his hands in surrender, still smirking but taking a step back. “Okay, okay, damn. Didn’t know you were that serious.”

You swallowed, shifting uncomfortably.

Jess and Brittney exchanged glances, their previous teasing momentarily forgotten.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “Really. Thank you for offering, but I can—”

Geo’s stare darkened.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Brittney sighed, rolling her eyes, and grabbed Jess’s arm. “Let’s just go. If we argue, we’ll be standing here all night, and my hair doesn’t do well in humidity.”

Jess hesitated but eventually nodded. “Text me when you get home,” she murmured before following Brittney toward the parking lot, disappearing into the storm.

Now it was just you and Geo.

The moment stretched.

You hesitated before stepping forward, murmuring an apology to Jess and Brittney as you walked toward him. He didn’t react, just turned and started walking, his long strides forcing you to match his pace.

The umbrella was big enough to shield you both, but just barely. You were close—too close. The sound of raindrops pattering against the fabric above you was deafening in the silence.

People stared. Whispered.

You caught snippets.

“Isn’t that Geo?”

“They’re actually walking together?”

“Did that student change him?”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening around the strap of your bag. The rumors were getting worse.

Geo, as expected, said nothing. His face was unreadable, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a quiet sort of irritation that made the air feel heavier.

You walked in silence, the only sounds between you being the soft tap, tap, tap of your footsteps on the wet pavement. The whole time, he held the umbrella steadily, keeping you covered without so much as a glance in your direction.

You hated this silence. It felt suffocating.

After a few blocks, you finally gathered the courage to speak. “…You really didn’t have to.”

Geo didn’t respond immediately. His grip on the umbrella tightened slightly. “You would’ve walked in the rain.”

You blinked. “So?”

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold air. “That’s stupid.”

Your lips parted, but you had no immediate reply to that.

You studied his face—the way his jaw tensed slightly, the furrow of his brows. He looked calm on the surface, but there was something deeper beneath it, something restrained.

You glanced at his hands. His fingers, long and calloused from years of archery, curled tightly around the umbrella’s handle.

“…You don’t like this, do you?” You murmured, half to yourself.

Geo’s eyes flickered toward you for a fraction of a second before he looked away. “What do you think?”

You sighed. “That’s a no.”

Another silence.

More whispers from passing students.

You couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you care what happens to me?”

Geo stopped walking.

The sudden pause made you nearly bump into him. Your breath hitched as he turned slightly, his sharp aquamarine eyes locking onto yours.

It was brief. Just a second.

Then he looked away again, continuing forward as if nothing had happened.

“Because,” he finally muttered, voice lower than before, “you’re part of this mess now.”

That was it. No further explanation.

The rain poured relentlessly, drenching the pavement in shimmering puddles. Under the shared umbrella, you could hear the hushed murmurs of onlookers, their whispers weaving into the storm.

You turned to Geo with exaggerated enthusiasm, a sudden, wicked idea sparking in your mind.

“Oh, darling~” you cooed, dramatically pressing a hand to your chest. “Aren’t we just the happiest couple? Walking home together in the rain, side by side, sharing such an intimate moment?”

Geo twitched. His eye twitched. His soul twitched.

“Shut up,” he deadpanned.

You ignored him, pressing on with a theatrical flourish. “Oh, how romantic this is! Just the two of us, against the cruel, stormy world! I swear this must be fate, my dear—”

Geo clicked his tongue, adjusting his grip on the umbrella with thinly veiled irritation. “Hold this properly,” he muttered, shifting it slightly in your direction. “You’re making me get wet.”

You flinched.

For a brief moment, you nearly dropped the act—his words striking something deeply embarrassing within you. He wasn’t even trying to be suggestive, but your brain immediately short-circuited.

Geo noticed. His scowl deepened.

“Not like that, you idiot.”

You cleared your throat, snapping back to reality. “R-Right.”

With an awkward shuffle, you tried to hold the umbrella better, but it was already a lost cause. The angle was off, and soon, Geo was frowning harder, clearly feeling the cold drizzle creeping onto his shoulder.

Then, with a sharp, irritated sigh, he did something unexpected.

Geo stopped walking, opened his bag, and pulled out—

Another umbrella.

Another. Umbrella.

You stared.

He had two this whole time?!

Geo flicked the new one open with a practiced motion, took a single step away from you, and then—without a glance back—simply walked off, his own umbrella shielding him completely while you were left standing there, blinking in betrayal.

“H-Hey!” You called after him, gripping the one he shoved into your hands. “Wait a damn second!”

“Go home,” Geo said flatly, not slowing down.

You hurried after him, huffing. “Why do you get to walk off with your own umbrella while I have to stand here looking—”

“I don’t want to be seen with freaks like you near my place,” he cut in, voice as cold as the rain itself. “I don’t care what happens to you. Just go.”

The words stung more than they should have.

You clenched the handle of the umbrella, watching as he continued forward, his figure growing smaller under the storm.

But then you saw it.

A sleek, black car parked at the curb. A driver waiting outside, umbrella in hand. And standing near it, glaring daggers at the poor man, was Geo.

“I told you I don’t need a driver,” he snapped, his voice barely audible over the rain.

The bodyguard—because of course he had a bodyguard—merely sighed and gestured toward the car. “Apologies, sir. Please get inside.”

Geo gritted his teeth, but eventually, with one last frustrated glance around, he yanked the car door open and disappeared inside.

You stood there, watching as the vehicle pulled away, headlights flickering in the downpour.

You had forgotten.

Geo wasn’t just the broody, moody, overachieving archer. He was rich—filthy rich.

You glanced at the umbrella in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the quiet gift he hadn’t even acknowledged.

Then, with a sigh, you turned in the opposite direction, heading home.

The rhythmic pattering of rain followed you all the way home, but it didn’t wash away the strange, twisting feeling in your chest.

Geo’s words still echoed in your head.

"I don’t want to be seen with freaks like you near my place."

You scoffed, gripping the umbrella tighter as you trudged forward. Whatever. It wasn’t like you wanted to be seen with him either.

And yet…

A part of you lingered on the way he silently handed you the umbrella. On the way he had simply waited for you earlier, without a word, standing under the rain. On the way he—

“Nope. No. Absolutely not.” You shook your head violently, trying to knock the thoughts out of your brain. This was getting out of hand.

You couldn’t keep doing this. This whole fake relationship thing. The stares. The whispers. The emotional whiplash from Geo being a cold, scowling menace one second and then silently protecting you the next.

It was exhausting.

So, you needed a solution.

And then, like a divine revelation, it hit you.

True love.

Yes. That was the answer.

All you had to do was fall in love with someone real. Someone who actually wanted to be with you. Someone who wasn’t a broody, emotionally constipated archery prodigy with a superiority complex.

If you found an actual person to like—no, to love—then this whole stupid, fake romance thing with Geo wouldn’t matter anymore.

You wouldn't have to keep up the act.

Wouldn’t have to deal with his flicks to your forehead.

Wouldn’t have to endure his sharp glares or his occasional, frustrating moments of protectiveness that made your heart almost falter.

No. None of that.

You just had to fall in love.

Easy, right?

…Right?

You stepped into your house, closing the umbrella, and let out a long, tired sigh.

Yeah. This would totally work.

It had to.

The Next Day: The Hunt for "True Love" (And Your Sanity)

You had a plan. A perfect, foolproof, completely rational plan.

Step one: Find someone attractive. Step two: Fall in love. Step three: Free yourself from this insufferable fake relationship with Geo.

Simple. Logical. Efficient.

So, with determination (and a slight, gnawing desperation), you set off to class, ready to find your one true love. Or at least someone who didn’t make you want to bash your head against a wall.

Candidate #1: The Handsome Senior

He was tall. He was charming. He had the kind of presence that made people turn their heads when he walked by. You heard he was a part of the student council. Mature, responsible, and respected. Perfect boyfriend material.

So, you casually walked by him, attempting your best "mysterious yet approachable" look.

And then you heard him speak.

"Oh, sorry, I can't hang out today. I have to alphabetize my sock collection."

…Excuse me?

You stopped dead in your tracks. Did you mishear that? Did he just say… socks?

You glanced at his friend, who just nodded understandingly. "Right, right. Color-coded or just standard alphabetizing?"

"Both. It’s a double system. Gotta keep things organized."

Yeah. No. Absolutely not. You weren’t about to date someone who spent their free time alphabetizing their wardrobe.

You shuffled away before he noticed your stare.

Candidate #2: The Sweet, Soft-Spoken Classmate

She was kind. She had a soothing voice, like a character straight out of a slice-of-life anime. She was the kind of person who would probably knit scarves for stray kittens in her free time.

You sat next to her in class, thinking, Yes. This is the kind of warmth I need in my life.

Then she sneezed.

And it was the single most ungodly, horrific, window-shattering sound you had ever heard in your life.

The entire classroom fell into stunned silence. A few students subtly checked their ears for damage. One guy in the back whispered, "I saw my life flash before my eyes."

Meanwhile, she just sniffled sweetly and continued taking notes.

You decided this was a battle your eardrums weren’t willing to fight.

Candidate #3: The Gym Guy

Alright. Time for something different. Maybe a more physical type. Someone with a strong presence, confidence, charisma.

So, you went to the campus gym, looking for potential.

And oh, you found potential.

A muscular, determined-looking guy was lifting weights in the corner, the epitome of strength and discipline. He had an intense look in his eyes, like he was training for a heroic final battle.

You watched for a second, debating if you should strike up a conversation.

Then he looked at himself in the mirror and whispered, "You are a majestic beast. The gods themselves weep at your strength."

Okay. Time to leave.

Candidate #4: The Bad Boy Wannabe

Alright. You’d tried polite. You’d tried cute. You’d tried athletic. Maybe a little danger was the way to go.

So, you found someone who fit the bill.

Leather jacket. Piercings. Probably smelled like cigarette smoke and rebellion. He leaned against a vending machine like he was posing for a magazine shoot.

You steeled yourself and walked past him, making sure to glance his way.

He smirked. "Hey, babe. What’s your name?"

Okay. Good start. Flirty. Confident. Classic bad-boy energy.

Then he winked. With both eyes.

BOTH. EYES.

Like a weirdly slow, uncomfortable double blink.

Your soul left your body.

You walked away without a word.

Candidate #5: Literally Anyone Else at This Point

You were getting desperate. Someone. Anyone. Please.

You tried chatting with the friendly barista at the café. But he wouldn’t stop talking about his pet lizard and how they were "spiritually connected in a past life."

You tried making conversation with a fellow bookworm at the library. But she responded with "The only true love I need is between the pages of a good novel."

You even considered the quiet nerdy kid in the corner, but then you saw him aggressively arguing about the exact power levels of anime characters in an online forum.

It was hopeless.

No one felt right. No one fit.

And as much as you tried to ignore it, there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you why.

Because every time you tried to picture yourself with someone else…

Every time you imagined soft, romantic moments with someone new…

Your mind kept wandering back to Geo.

To the way he held the umbrella over you without a word. To the way his fingers had curled around yours in the cafeteria. To the way he scolded you, flicked your forehead, glared at you like an angry cat—yet still, somehow, always ended up looking out for you.

You shook your head violently. No. Absolutely not.

Geo was cold. Geo was distant. Geo didn’t want to be seen with you.

This was fake.

So why…?

The moment you stepped out of class, you knew something was wrong.

The hallway was too quiet.

Like the unsettling calm before a horror movie jumpscare.

And then—

"THERE THEY ARE!"

You barely had time to blink before you were surrounded. A group of girls, all dressed in varying shades of Geo’s fanclub aesthetic—dark colors, sharp eyeliner, and expressions that screamed unhinged devotion—stood before you like a council of judges prepared to deliver a death sentence.

"Come with us," one of them said. It wasn’t a request.

You weren’t dumb. Running would just make it worse. So, with a heavy sigh, you let yourself be dragged—literally dragged—to the school playground.

A trial was about to begin.

Geo’s Divine Court

They stood in a circle, blocking any possible exit.

"HOW COULD YOU?!" one girl shrieked.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" you shot back, already exhausted.

"You don’t deserve him!" another spat. "Geo—**OUR GEO—**is a divine being! He is to be worshipped from afar! Not… touched!"

Someone gasped at the mere idea of physical contact.

You rubbed your temples. "You guys are insane."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

You groaned. "Look. If you all love him so much, why don’t you just confess?"

Gasps. Literal gasps.

One girl looked horrified. Another clutched her chest like she was about to faint.

"Confess?!" one finally shrieked. "That’s—that’s sacrilegious!"

"You don’t just confess to Geo!" another shouted. "You admire him from afar!"

"You appreciate his existence!"

"You burn incense in his honor!"

…What?

"Hold on, hold on," you cut in. "Let me get this straight. You’re all obsessed with him, but none of you want to actually date him?"

"Of course not!"

"He is too pure for a mere mortal like us!"

"He is an untouchable deity!"

You stared at them. Then muttered under your breath, "People are so dumb."

Unfortunately, they heard you.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"

You flinched. Great. Time to dig your grave deeper.

"I mean…" You cleared your throat. "It’s just… kind of stupid? You guys are acting like he’s some kind of god, when in reality, he’s just a guy. A really rude guy, but still a guy."

Silence.

Tension filled the air. They were ready to kill you.

You swallowed nervously. "Look, I don’t know what to tell you. I confessed. He accepted. It’s not my fault you guys are too scared to try."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh my god." You let out a nervous laugh, waving them off. "It’s literally only a rule for cowards who won’t confess. I confessed. He said yes. You guys are just annoying, ahahaha—"

The world froze.

You realized what you just said.

Oh no.

Their eyes burned into you, the sheer rage radiating from them enough to make you question every decision you had ever made.

And then—

"YOU WHAT?!?!"

Meanwhile, Elsewhere…

Geo sneezed.

Deryl, standing next to him, snickered. "Someone must be talking about you~"

Geo scowled. He had a bad feeling about this.

Just when you thought you were about to be devoured by a mob of rabid fangirls, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Oi."

The air shifted.

The girls turned, faces paling instantly.

A guy stood behind them—tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably a delinquent. His uniform was messily worn, his red hair a wild contrast to the dark scowl he wore.

"You lot done acting like clowns?" he said, his voice slow and unimpressed.

Silence.

Then—

Without another word, the fangirls scattered like roaches.

You blinked. Huh. That was easy.

The guy sighed, looking down at you. "You okay?"

You realized you were still sitting on the ground, dirt on your sleeves and a sore feeling in your wrist from where one of them had grabbed you.

"...Yeah."

He held out a hand. "C'mon."

Hesitantly, you took it.

Warm. His grip was strong, but gentle.

"Let’s get you patched up," he said, leading you toward the infirmary.

An Unexpected Invitation

The antiseptic stung as the guy carefully dabbed a cotton swab against a small scrape on your arm.

"You sure you’re Geo’s lover?" he asked casually.

You tensed. "...Yeah?"

For a split second, his lips curled into a smirk—sharp, knowing. But then, just as quickly, it was replaced with a kind smile.

"That so?" He leaned back. "Well, you must be pretty special then."

You laughed awkwardly. "Not really."

"You are if you got him to say yes."

You shrugged, trying to change the subject. "Anyway… thanks for helping me out."

He waved it off. "Nah, don’t worry about it. People like them are just annoying." He paused, then suddenly asked, "Hey, you busy Sunday?"

You blinked. "Uh… no?"

"Cool." His smile was too sweet. "Let’s hang out then."

What.

Your brain short-circuited.

A GUY JUST ASKED YOU OUT?!

This was NEW TERRITORY. Geo never asked you out—he just dragged you places without warning. But this guy? He was polite. He asked. He even looked kind while doing it!

"O-Okay!" you said before your nerves could catch up to you.

He grinned. "Then let’s exchange numbers."

Your heart was racing.

After swapping contacts, you smiled at your phone like an idiot. He was so nice.

This was great! Maybe this was exactly what you needed!

A nice, normal, sweet guy who didn’t flick your forehead or act like you were a burden—

The infirmary door slammed open.

Possessiveness in Motion

Geo stood there, face unreadable, gaze immediately locking onto you.

"...Come."

You blinked. "What?"

Geo didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t look at the red-haired guy. Just at you.

"...Right now?"

His eyes darkened. "Come."

The air grew thick. The red-haired guy tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze as he observed the tension.

But Geo didn’t acknowledge him. He was focused on you—and not in a way that made you feel safe.

You hesitated, glancing at the guy beside you. He gave you a gentle look, as if silently asking if you were okay.

Geo finally turned his head.

The temperature in the room dropped.

It wasn’t a glare—it was worse. It was indifference mixed with a warning.

Like Geo was looking at a bug he didn’t want to waste his time on.

The red-haired guy just grinned.

"Heh."

Geo ignored him, turning back to you, waiting.

You sighed. "...Sorry," you muttered to the guy before standing up.

He just leaned back in his chair, watching as you left with Geo.

And the moment the door shut behind you—

A chuckle.

Low, quiet, but unmistakably mirthful.

"Heh… heheheh…"

His smile stretched into something darker.

"Geo, Geo… you’re gonna be just as heartbroken as me."

You were just about to step out of the infirmary when Geo appeared again, his presence like a storm cloud, sudden and looming.

"Give me your phone." His voice was colder than the air in the room.

You froze, blinking at him. "What?"

He didn’t answer, just held his hand out, waiting for you to comply. You hesitated. This was getting out of hand. Why was he suddenly acting like this? But you had no choice but to hand him your phone. What else could you do? His grip on your arm was firm, his gaze unyielding.

He swiped through your phone without so much as a glance at you. The silence between you two was thick, heavy with confusion and something else—something that felt like a storm gathering in the distance.

Then, without any explanation, he went to your contact list and found the number for the red-haired guy. You stared, bewildered, as he deleted it with a few swift movements.

"Geo! Why—"

You started, your voice shaking with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Why did you do that? He was nice to me! He helped me when those girls were... were attacking me. He was—"

"I know what he was," Geo interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the air like ice. "He was just some guy who thought he could flirt with you and make me look like a fool."

You blinked. "He wasn’t like that at all!"

Geo was glaring at you now, and for a moment, it almost felt like he was staring straight into your soul. His eyes were cold, calculating, full of contempt and something else—something that looked like... disappointment.

"Why?" You repeated, more quietly this time. "Why would you delete his number? He was a good person. He treated me like I was... like I was someone worth—"

Geo suddenly grabbed your phone and shoved it into your hand. "Don’t talk to me about being worth something." His voice was low, strained, as if he was holding back something much darker. "You don’t get it, do you?"

You stared at him, mouth agape. "What don’t I get, Geo?"

"Everything," he spat. "Everything you're doing is fake." His words stung, harsh and unforgiving. "You think I’m doing this because I want to see you all cozy with some random guy who probably doesn’t care about you? I’m doing this because you’re too damn naïve."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "I’m naïve?!" You felt your anger rise, your voice trembling but growing stronger. "You’re the one deleting my number like some kind of jealous psycho. How is that any better, huh?"

Geo looked at you, his eyes darkening even more. "It’s not about being jealous," he snapped. "It’s about you getting caught up in some stupid fantasy, thinking everything is some damn fairytale. There’s no ‘true love,’ no ‘perfect guy.’ There’s just people, and they’ll all use you if you let them."

You were shaking now, feeling like the world was spinning around you. His words cut deep, but something about the way he said it—something about the way he looked at you, like he was speaking from experience, made you want to scream at him.

"I don’t need you to protect me, Geo." The words slipped out before you could stop them. "You’re not helping me, you’re just trying to control me. You act like you care, but all you do is push me away every time I try to understand you. Maybe you don’t even know what the hell you want!"

Geo didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stood there, glaring at you, as if weighing your words. Then, finally, he spoke. "You’re an idiot." His voice was thick with disgust. "You think everything’s so easy, don’t you? That all this... this fake dating thing, it’s all some stupid game to you." He paused, his voice growing quieter, as if he was trying to swallow something heavy. "I’m trying to help you, but you’re too damn stubborn to see it."

You were speechless, all of a sudden feeling like the world around you was collapsing. "Help me?" You repeated, your voice trembling, not entirely sure if you were angry or hurt. "Help me by making me feel like I’m worthless? Like nothing matters except your control over me? You don’t care about me, Geo. You just want to make sure I don’t make my own choices."

Geo’s expression faltered for the briefest second, his eyes narrowing. "I’m not some hero, okay? I never wanted to be."

But you couldn’t stand it anymore. "Then stop acting like you are!" you snapped. "Stop trying to make decisions for me!"

Geo stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. His eyes softened, just for a moment, but the coldness quickly returned. "You’re too much of a damn mess to know what’s good for you." He was speaking quietly now, as though talking to himself more than to you. "You don’t even know how dangerous it is to get attached to people like that guy. He’s not real, just like this whole stupid thing between us. Fake. All of it."

You felt your heart sink. You had always known Geo was messed up, but hearing him say those words… it made everything feel like it was breaking apart.

You stepped back, your voice barely above a whisper. "You know what? You’re right." You shook your head, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.- "Yes! But it's not fake like us!"

Geo didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He just turned and walked away, his back to you, leaving you with your tangled thoughts and a broken heart.

It was Sunday, and the sun was beginning to dip low, casting a warm golden glow over everything. The red-haired guy, whose name you now knew was Kai, had taken you out to a café and even showed you a few places in town you'd never seen before. For the first time in a long time, you were enjoying yourself, feeling something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a while: happiness.

He was so kind, so different from Geo, in all the right ways. There was no bitterness or possessiveness in his eyes, no constant tension in his voice. He smiled easily, laughed easily, and you found yourself relaxing in his company, like you could just be... you. No pretenses, no drama. It felt... normal.

As the evening progressed, Kai had taken you to a small bar where the two of you shared a drink, talking about everything and nothing. You felt at ease with him, so different from the constant pressure you felt when Geo was around. It was refreshing. When you reached for your wallet to pay for your drink, Kai stopped you with a soft laugh.

"Don't worry about it," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "It's on me."

You froze for a moment, feeling your face warm up. "Oh, no, I can pay. I don’t mind." You weren’t used to anyone paying for you, especially someone who wasn’t your family. But Kai just shook his head and smiled.

"It’s fine. I insisted."

You smiled back, a little embarrassed, but also grateful. There was something so nice about this moment, so normal.

But then, as you were both walking out, Kai hesitated, his expression shifting slightly. You noticed it, the way his shoulders stiffened, and the way his smile faltered. It was subtle, but it was there. He glanced at you before letting out a small sigh.

"Sorry, I should’ve thought this through," he said, his voice softer now. "I... I forgot that you have a boyfriend. I shouldn't have taken you out like this."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. "Boyfriend?" you repeated, confused. You tried to push the tightness in your chest down, but it was hard to ignore. "I... I don't have a boyfriend."

Kai looked taken aback by your response, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he studied your face. "But... you’ve been acting like it. With Geo, right?"

"Geo and I are... fake dating," you muttered, the truth finally spilling out. "It’s not real, not the way you think. It’s all just... to get through some things." You paused, unsure of how to explain. "I’m single, Kai. I’m... not with anyone."

You could see his expression soften, and for a moment, you thought he might have been relieved. His eyes met yours, and there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh," he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. "I... I didn’t realize. I’m sorry for assuming."

But then, as if something inside him snapped, that smile faded. His gaze hardened, and his next words came out a little too quickly, too harshly.

"You know," he started, a bitter edge to his voice, "I wasted my entire day today, trying to show you a good time." You blinked, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "I really thought you were different. But maybe I was wrong."

"What... what do you mean?" you asked, your heart suddenly racing in your chest. Something about the way he said it didn’t sit right with you.

Kai looked at you, his expression now full of disdain. "I was just trying to show you something real. Show you someone who cares, someone who doesn’t treat you like shit... unlike that guy you’ve been pretending to date. Geo, right?" His words were sharp, cutting deep. "I thought maybe you could see me as someone better. But clearly, I was just wasting my time."

Your stomach dropped, and you felt yourself shrink under the weight of his words. "Kai... What are you talking about?"

He looked away, his jaw tight as he exhaled deeply, clearly frustrated. "Geo stole my girlfriend," he spat, his voice full of venom. "She was perfect, you know? Smart, funny, beautiful. She was mine, and I loved her. But one day, she looked at Geo, and—poof—just like that, she was gone. Gone because she realized Geo was the real beauty. The one everyone falls for. And you know what? She still likes him, even though he rejected her. He doesn't even care."

Your heart twisted in your chest as you listened to Kai’s words, but the way he was speaking... it was like there was a darker undertone to all of this. You felt the pieces start to click together, but you didn’t want to believe it.

"I just wanted to show that asshole how it feels," Kai continued, his voice shaking with emotion. "I wanted to take his lover away from him. To make him feel what I felt when she left me. You’re just a pawn in this stupid game, you know? Just like she was a pawn for Geo." His words were like knives, stabbing deep into your heart. "I used you. I took you out, made you feel special, just to show Geo that you could be mine, too. But I guess you’re just as much of a fool as I was, huh?"

You felt your chest tighten, your breath shallow. The realization hit you like a brick wall—he had been using you all along. Kai wasn’t interested in you for who you were. He didn’t care about your feelings, your happiness, none of it. You were just a tool for him to take revenge on Geo, to make him feel like he had won.

All of a sudden, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of everything sinking in. You felt stupid, broken, like a fool who had fallen for it all. Everything had been a lie, a setup, from the very beginning.

"I—" you tried to speak, but the words were stuck in your throat. How could you have been so blind?

Kai smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Tell a guy the truth before you waste his money and time. Don’t make the same mistake I did, sweetheart."

Kai’s laughter echoed in the quiet air, his voice sharp and mocking. The sound cut through you like a knife, every word he spat at you stinging worse than the last.

"You really are that stupid, huh?" he sneered, his eyes flashing with cruel satisfaction. "You were so desperate for love that you fell for my little act. How pathetic. I gave you a little taste, and you bought into it like a fool."

You could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, each one making you feel smaller and more worthless. He looked at you with such disdain, as if you were the joke in a game he had already won. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, but it was impossible. His words, his laughter... they were too much.

Tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here, not now. But it was too late. They slipped down your cheeks anyway, and you couldn’t stop them. It was a mixture of hurt, betrayal, and anger. You had trusted him, believed him when he was kind. But it had all been a lie. All of it.

Suddenly, a loud cough broke through the air, and you looked up to find a familiar figure standing near you. It was Geo, sitting down beside you with that cold, almost indifferent look on his face. The way he looked at Kai—like he was nothing more than a pest—was enough to make Kai pause and turn around.

Kai’s face twisted in anger as he stood up. "This is none of your business, Geo!" he snapped. "She was my girlfriend. You stole her from me!"

Geo glanced at Kai with complete disgust, his lip curling in a barely concealed sneer. "Stole her?" Geo repeated, his voice dripping with scorn. "I didn’t steal anything, idiot. She came to me. She fell for me on her own. I didn’t even know you existed, much less care about your relationship with her. So, quit whining like a child."

Kai’s mouth hung open for a moment, stunned by the audacity of Geo’s words. But his face twisted back into anger as he opened his mouth to retort. But before he could say another word, Geo turned his back to him and reached out to take your hand, pulling you closer.

"We’re leaving," Geo said, his voice low and commanding.

You felt like you were in a haze. The words still stung, and the tears were threatening to come again, but Geo’s touch grounded you. It felt... different, somehow, but in a way that was more real than anything you had felt all day. He didn’t say much, but there was a strange comfort in the way his hand wrapped around yours.

But as Geo led you away, something made you stop in your tracks. Your voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper, as you turned to look at Kai one last time.

"Was all of the kind things you said a lie?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The vulnerability in your voice was clear, and you didn’t care anymore. You just needed to know.

Kai’s response was just as cruel as the rest of his behavior. He threw his head back and laughed again, louder this time.

"Of course, it was a lie," he said, his tone dripping with venom. "You’re nothing more than a cheap little toy to play with. You fell so hard for me, but you’re just another person I used to get my revenge. I told you, you’re not worth it." His eyes glinted with malicious pleasure. "No thank you. You’re just desperate. And that’s your problem."

Your chest tightened painfully at his words, the tears that you had been fighting for so long finally breaking free. They ran down your cheeks, but you didn’t care anymore. They were just tears, a small release from everything that had been building up inside. You stared at the ground, unable to look at him any longer.

Geo’s expression softened just slightly as he turned to look at you. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you for a moment, taking in the sight of you so broken. His usual coldness seemed to slip away, but only for a moment, replaced by something almost... caring. But that didn’t last long.

Geo’s hand tightened around yours, and without warning, he turned back to face Kai, who was still standing there, laughing. His laughter died in an instant as Geo's gaze locked on him, dark and unwavering.

"Shut the hell up," Geo growled, his voice so low and dangerous that it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Kai opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, Geo’s fist shot out and connected with his jaw with a sickening thud.

The force of the punch sent Kai stumbling back, and he fell to the ground, dazed and disoriented. You stood there, wide-eyed, as Geo glared down at him, his anger radiating off of him in waves.

"Stay the hell away from them," Geo spat, his voice deadly calm. "Next time, I won’t just punch you. I’ll shoot you with an arrow. Got it?" He gave one last, cold look to Kai, who was slowly getting to his feet, still looking dazed but clearly scared.

Kai didn’t even try to fight back. His face was twisted in a mixture of pain and fear, but before he could say anything more, he turned and ran, disappearing into the distance.

Geo stood there, breathing heavily, watching Kai go. After a moment, he turned back to you, his expression unreadable. You felt his gaze on you.

Wiping at your eyes, but your heart still felt heavy. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were okay yet. But Geo had done something for you today—something you never expected. He had protected you in a way no one else had.

Geo didn’t say anything else, just reached out and pulled you toward him, his hand still holding yours.

Geo walked ahead, his pace unhurried, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet street. You followed beside him, your mind buzzing with questions and confusion. It was almost like you were lost in a fog, unable to piece together everything that had just happened.

You glanced over at him, trying to catch a glimpse of the thoughts swirling behind his stoic expression. "Did you know about Kai from the start?" you asked quietly, breaking the silence.

He didn't look at you right away, but when he did, his eyes were sharp, almost cold. "Yeah. Guys like him? They're players," he muttered, voice devoid of any real emotion. "Don't involve me in nonsense like that."

You swallowed hard, biting your lip. The truth was, you didn’t understand any of it. You’d been caught up in a whirlwind of feelings, unsure of who to trust, unsure of what was real. But you couldn’t help but ask, "But even after you knew… you still came. Why?"

Geo's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He seemed to consider the question for a moment, but when he spoke, his words came out with a biting edge. "Because you’re delusional," he said bluntly. "That thing you left behind? That wasn’t love. It was a delusion." He shook his head, his gaze turning distant. "This kind of love? There’s no need to feel bad about it."

You blinked at him, not fully processing his words. Geo, with his usual coldness, was telling you that your feelings were nothing but an illusion. You didn’t even know how to respond. You wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, but you felt small in that moment...

He was trying to comfort you..

But then, something inside you shifted.

You stopped walking, your heart suddenly light, the fog in your mind clearing for a brief moment. You felt an almost giddy sensation in your chest—like a spark of realization had ignited within you. Your lips parted in surprise as you quietly whispered to yourself, "Maybe… maybe I did fall."

The truth hit you like a wave. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt something for someone, but this was different. It was him. It had always been him, hadn’t it? Even with all the confusion, all the masks, you had fallen for Geo.

The moment felt so surreal, and yet, as you stood there, still processing it, your heart beat faster.

Geo had stopped walking, but he didn’t turn around. You wanted to say something, wanted to explain it all, but the words felt stuck in your throat. So instead, you simply whispered, “Thank you.” It was quiet, barely audible, but the sincerity was there, carried through the weight of your realization.

Geo paused, his body stiffening for a moment. For a second, you thought he hadn’t heard you. But then, without turning his head, he spoke again.

"Don’t thank me," he said, his voice softer, but still laced with the same coldness. "I didn’t do anything for you."

But his voice betrayed something. It wasn’t just indifference—it was more complicated than that. It was like he was struggling to reconcile something inside himself, some part of him that didn’t want to care but maybe, just maybe, did.

You took a hesitant step toward him, wanting to explain, wanting him to understand. But before you could open your mouth, Geo did something that made your heart skip a beat.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes snapping upward as though he remembered something—or someone—else.

His whole posture shifted. His jaw tightened, and his eyes took on a strange, unreadable expression.

It was like something from the past had resurfaced in his mind, something he didn’t want to confront. The brief flicker of vulnerability that you had seen earlier was gone, replaced by the mask of indifference you had become so accustomed to.

But you couldn’t help but feel the change in the air, like there was more to this than either of you had realized. His silence hung there between you, and even though you didn’t fully understand it, you felt like you were on the edge of something that neither of you was ready for.

Geo finally turned his head to look at you, his expression guarded, but his eyes betraying a storm of thoughts just beneath the surface.

"Don’t follow me," he said, his tone harsh again, as if he was trying to shut down whatever feelings might be lingering.

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you didn’t understand him, to try to explain everything you felt. But the words caught in your throat, because you realized something else.

He was running from something.

Geo, who had been so certain, so detached, was now holding something back. You didn’t know if it was something personal, something from his past, but you could feel it.

"Geo?" you whispered, but he didn’t answer. He just kept walking, further and further away.

SOME CHILDHOOD MEMORY

.."You built the snow people well!"

"It's supposed to be me and y/n!"

"Hah! Oh! Mister """"" is calling!" The two boys ran suddenly, the dark haired boy looked at the snow people. His Y/n, was destroyed.

"Young Master, I went to call your friend. Apparently, They left."

"......"

"........They promised.."

"............Why?!"

[28harryssunflower]

Could u make one based off of ‘only angel’ or/and ‘Kiwi’ ? 🫶🏻

Okay so, it would’ve been a lot easier to write if I had specific lyrics to pick from instead of just two songs in general, so I don‘t really like how it turned out, lol. And I also didn’t know what era you wanted me to write in, so I just chose the good old 2017-ish era. Anyways, I hope you still like it xx

Third post today! Phew

Dangerous attraction

The dim lighting of the private booth cast long shadows, the soft clink of glass and quiet murmurs of people in the background melding into the low hum of the pub. Harry sat back against the plush leather seat, his eyes half-lidded as he absentmindedly swirled the whiskey in his glass. The concert had been a success, the crowds in New York had been wild, but after the adrenaline of the stage, this was what he needed: quiet, solitude, and a bit of time to relax before another long day.

But then he saw you.

At first, it was just a glimpse - a flash of your figure across the room, seated in a booth surrounded by a group of people who seemed to melt away the moment his gaze fell on you. You were the kind of woman who demanded attention without even trying. Such an actress.

You took a drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light, your lips parted just enough to pull in the smoke. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes fixed on the way your fingers held the cigarette so casually, the smoke swirling around you like a mysterious cloud. You looked like trouble - dangerous trouble - and it made his pulse quicken.

The moment you finished your cigarette, you tossed it into the ashtray, not even glancing at the half-finished glass of whiskey in front of you as you immediately reached for another from your cheap pack. You didn’t seem to care about anything - anyone - except your own pleasure.

But it was the next move that really grabbed Harry’s attention. He watched, stunned, as you poured a line of white powder onto the back of your hand. His eyes followed the movement, unable to tear away from the way your fingers expertly drew it in through your nose. There was something about it that made him feel both intrigued and uneasy, like you were a dangerous game he didn’t know if he should play. But god, he wanted to.

His eyes traced the curve of your neck, the way the neckline of your black dress dipped low enough to make his pulse race. That black dress, clinging to your figure so perfectly, seemed designed to drive him mad. Every curve, every movement you made was like an invitation. His chest tightened as he imagined what it would feel like to press his lips to that neck of yours, to taste the soft skin that looked so damn kissable.

“Get a grip,” Harry muttered to himself, shaking his head. But it didn’t work. His gaze was still locked on you, still captivated. His thoughts swirled with confusion and desire.

He needed to make a move.

He called for the waiter, his voice steady despite the frantic beating of his heart. “Bring her over here.”

Moments later, you appeared, slipping into the booth beside him without a word, the faintest smirk curling on your lips as your eyes met his. Harry had no idea what he was doing, but there was no way he was going to let you slip away. You were too much - a perfect mix of fire and ice.

“You’re Harry Styles,” you said, voice low and smooth, a little amused, as if you weren’t entirely impressed but still intrigued.

“That’s me,” he replied, his voice rough, more playful than usual. “And you are?”

“Me? I’m captivated,” you grinned.

You didn’t need to introduce yourself. Your name wasn’t what mattered here. It was the way you looked at him, the way you leaned in just enough that your perfume, sweet and intoxicating, hit him with the force of a punch.

Harry shifted, leaning closer, his eyes scanning your face. He couldn’t resist the pull. It was like a magnetic force drawing him to you.

Your lips were on his before he had the chance to think twice. He felt your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, the kiss hungry, urgent. He groaned into your mouth as you practically devoured him. There was no gentleness here, no tentative exploration. You kissed him like you owned him, like you were claiming him, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d never been kissed like this - never had anyone just take him the way you were.

You pressed your body against his, and Harry felt his control slipping away. Your hands were everywhere - on his chest, his neck, his jaw. Your body was like liquid fire, and Harry found himself losing track of everything except the feel of you. The kiss was filthy, passionate, and full of something far darker than he was used to.

When you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, your lips glistened with the same whiskey he had been drinking, your breath a sweet mixture of smoke and alcohol. “You know,” you whispered, “I didn’t think you’d be this easy.”

Harry didn’t even flinch at the comment. In fact, the challenge in your eyes only made him want you more. “Who says I’m easy?”

You smiled, and for a moment, Harry thought he might lose his mind. You were the definition of chaos, of everything he shouldn’t want. But God, he did.

Before he could gather his thoughts, your lips were back on his, and this time it wasn’t just a kiss. You were all over him - your hands sliding down his chest, pulling at his shirt, making him forget where he ended and you began.

Normal people would pay for this kind of woman to be sitting on their lap, making them feel like you made him feel right now.

His brain was foggy, his heart thumping in his chest. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even let him breathe. It was reckless. It was wild. And in that moment, Harry couldn’t care less about the consequences.

It felt like you were both on the edge of something dangerous, something electric. His hands roamed down your body, his fingers itching to explore, but you took control again. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m all over you.”

Fuck. It was a punch to the gut, and Harry had never felt so alive. He wanted you - needed you. It was the most primal urge he’d ever felt, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you grinned and scribbled your number on a napkin. “Text me,” you said, your voice taunting. Before he could even respond, you stood, giving him one last lingering look over your shoulder, a slow wink before you vanished back into the crowd.

Harry sat there, his chest heaving as he stared at the napkin in his hand. He wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but he knew one thing for certain: you had left a mark on him, something deeper than just a casual fling. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and that frustrated the hell out of him.

It took him several more drinks to shake the frustration, but it didn’t do much to ease the gnawing feeling in his gut. By the time he got back to his hotel, the taste of you was still fresh on his lips, your scent still lingering in his mind. He had texted you twenty minutes after you left, but there hasn’t been an answer yet.

Then, his phone buzzed.

It was you. Of course, it was you.

Your text came in with that usual warning:

You: I’m bad news. Your fans won’t like it if they knew I was influencing you this way ;)

Harry chuckled, leaning back on the bed as he read your words. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

The words spilling out before he could stop them.

Harry: I don’t care about anything else. I want to see you again.

You didn’t hesitate.

You: Tell me your room number and hotel name. Then meet me in the hotel hallway. I’ll be there soon.

And soon enough, you were. Harry stood in the hallway outside his room, a grin plastered across his face, heart pounding in his chest as the elevator doors opened and you stepped into the hall. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

There was no talking this time. No hesitation. You pressed him up against the door of his hotel room, hands sliding under his shirt, lips crashing against his. The heat between you was suffocating, and Harry didn’t fight it. He couldn’t.

This time, you were the one in control. You pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him as your lips devoured him once more. Your hands, your body, everything about you was completely in charge, and Harry loved it.

He was lost in the sensation of you taking the lead, of the way you teased him - your lips brushing his, your hands tugging at his clothes as though you couldn’t get enough of him. And when you finally got on top, taking the reins in a way that surprised him, he couldn’t help but surrender.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, but it was. It was everything he didn’t know he needed.

Afterwards, when his lips brushed against your ear one last time, he whispered, “You’re a real devil in between the sheets.”

You chuckled darkly, your eyes glittering with amusement. “You have no idea.”

You stood, pulling on your clothes with that same nonchalant attitude, as if you hadn’t just completely shattered him. Harry watched you, breathless, trying to catch his breath. But before he could speak, you leaned over him and kissed him deeply, just once.

And then you were gone - no more words, just a wink as you slipped out of the room.

Harry sat there, staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he knew one thing: You were trouble.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

[iguana-eyanna]

From The Bird's Eye View Chapter 5

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Although you achieved your dream of being a designer, you never considered meeting a man who's also a father.

a/n: This story line has been about 4 years in the making as "The Blood Within Us" was my favorite fic to write. I really wanted to finish the Bruce Wayne saga but I have been facing a lot of writer's block now a days. This current series will have two chapters that will be published in a few months. In the mean time, thank you for reading.

“Tim! You’re going to be late to school!” You yelled, knocking on his door once again. 

As if on cue, Tim was rushing towards his bag and trying to knot a tie for his uniform, murmuring sorry under his breath. 

You paused his power walk to the dining room and did his tie for him.

“I know your nervous about your debate competition tonight, but you don’t need to pull all nighters. Especially since you asked for time off on night patrol.”

“I know, I know. I was just reviewing my notes last night and slept on my desk. Didn’t hear my third alarm.” He said, seeing how you were done with his tie. 

“There. You know, I can teach you how to do it.” You said, walking with him to the table to eat a quick breakfast. Tim grabs a toast and some eggs on his plate.

“Mom, you’re a fashion designer, you’re a literal pro. Besides, you do it better than Bruce.”

“Thanks for the kind words.” Bruce replied, making Tim chuckle nervously. He presses a kiss on your head as he sat down next to you with his fixed plate. 

You look at your son who looked a bit distant as he rushed his breakfast. Call it mother’s intuition but you felt something was wrong.

“It’s time to head to head to school, Master Tim.” Alfred announced as he made his way to the car.

“Bye guys!” Tim yelled out before making his way out before kissing your cheek.

You look over to your son as he rushed his way out from the dining room.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask Bruce as he was about to drink from his mug. 

Bruce knows what you meant. About almost four months ago, Tim was captured by the Joker. That monster tormented him, trying to create a replicate of the conniving villain using unspeakable methods. When Bruce and Barbra Gordon saved Tim, the damage was already done. 

Tim went through extensive therapy and had night tremors. Both you and Bruce said to take his time before going back to school, but Tim pressed on, saying he’d be behind on all his school work and the new friends he’s made. But deep down, he just wanted to feel somewhat normal again.

“He’s keeping busy with school. Tim just needs an outlet to just feel like a teenager again. I thought I had to face every struggle when I was his age, I don’t want him to feel like that.” He said, taking a sip.

“I can’t imagine. At least he has you to guide him.”

“He has the both of us.” Bruce reached out for your hand, squeezing it.

You then left Bruce at home so you could go in the office. You were more busy than ever, especially when you were opening a Japan branch in the coming year.

Later on, you got a ping of your phone alerting you it was time for lunch so you left work and traveled farther away from the city.

You walked over in the uneven path. The sun didn’t glare too much and the breeze was soft. You had a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. They were small yellow flowers that had hints of dandelions. You then got off the path to a small patch of grass, now only a few steps away from where you’ve been visiting for sometime.

“Hi, Jason.”

Your son turns around, a bit in a daze as he heard his name. 

“I didn’t think you’d be here.” He said, turning around. He was about to give you a hug but paused, unsure if the embrace was welcomed. You give him a sympathetic smile and closed the gap between you two, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“Sorry, not been used to this in awhile… also, not really sure what I’m doing here.” He said, looking back at the cemetery, staring at his name on the tombstone.

Jason Todd: Friend, Brother, & Son.

Son.

That word felt foreign to him. 

It’s almost been a month since he’s reunited with the family. After days of constant fighting with Bruce under his alias of The Red Hood, it was time to end this never-ending battle of his anger and come back home. 

“I usually come here to clear my head and talk to you.” You said, dusting away the leaves that were on top of the gravestone. 

He knew since his death that you took it the hardest. Even when you took in Tim, that hurt never left your heart. And now that he’s here, you’ve been healing day by day. 

The world knew of Jason’s death. It was featured in every news channel and tabloid. You and Bruce never cleared how he passed and you all decided as a family to have an interview with Lois Lane, who was the only person you trust for the most fragile time in your family. 

And people bought that he was in a protection detail of some sort, but for some reason… it didn’t sit right with you. It was like no one cared that he was gone for so long and could magically appear like nothing has happened. 

You try to have him open up, but he didn’t want to have you bear all his pain for him.

But isn’t that’s what a mother should do for her child?

“You know your room is always there for you, right?” You ask Jason as you turned to him. He’s been crashing most nights with Roy Harper, as they had a scuffle the first time they met again, but had a tearful reunion with each other.

“I know, but I think it’s time if I found a place for myself. Dick is helping me find some apartments in Blüdhaven. But I’ll pop in time to time to be with you guys.”

You smile at him, giving him a comforting side hug. 

“You always have a home with us.”

He smiles as he kisses the top of your head as he was now much taller than you.

“C’mon, let’s go get some food.”

+

Bruce looks down at his desk in his study room, looking down in his hands that held a small leather box. 

“Master Bruce?” 

Bruce looks up and sees Alfred alone, and Bruce released the breath he was holding onto nervously.

“Has the package arrive yet?” Alfred asks, locking the door before heading towards him.

Bruce softly smiles as he shakes his head yes, giving Alfred the small box.

“Just came after she left, I’ve been anxious for weeks.” 

“Well, it’s not every day Gotham’s most famous bachelor would one day be off the market.” Alfred teased as Bruce opens the box, revealing the engagement ring for you. 

“That’s why I bought out the restaurant where we had our fifth date.”

“Fifth date?” Alfred asks, sitting down opposite of Bruce.

“Well, first date wasn’t an official date, second one we had Dick join us to go to that ice cream parlor, third I had to cancel halfway due to Clayface III, fourth we had movie night at her place and fifth… it was when I realized that things can be different.” 

Bruce admits that starting a relationship with you, he didn’t have the right intentions. He could never deserve the love you give him. He swore that he’ll make it his life’s mission to make up every mistake that has affected you.

And almost after 8 1/2 years later, he’s finally decided to ask you to marry him. Yes, Bruce could have asked you many times before hand but there has been so many set backs and memories you both wish to forget, but he feels now is the most perfect time to start a new chapter with you.

“Where is she now?” Alfred asks.

“Getting lunch with Jason, he just sent me a message just now.”

“So you and Master Todd are talking again?” Alfred asks, knowing things haven’t been easy with son and father.

“We’re uh, slowly getting there. He even asked if he could spar with Tim tonight.”

“I don’t think that’ll be such a good idea.” Alfred warned.

Alfred has seen how Tim’s been reacting lately since Jason’s arrival. Tim has been questioning what’s his place would be now that the prodigal son has returned, and better yet, what his status is in this family.

“We’ll all have a talk afterwards. Everything is going to change tonight.” Bruce said, with hope in his eyes.

Alfred gave a small smile and got up, heading out of the office. 

“Indeed it will, sir.”

Meanwhile, you and Jason just came back to the manor as you mentioned that Bruce was taking you out for dinner tonight. It’s been awhile since it’s been the two of you, so you were very excited. 

Jason, for some reason, became silent once you arrived back home. Before you go up on the steps, you look over at Jason who was staring down in his lap.

“You’ve awfully been quiet recently.” You said, looking at your son.

Jason purses his lips and looks at you with uncertainty. 

“I know I’ve been keeping some stuff about what’s happened to me in the last few years. I just, don’t know how to tell you without breaking your heart again.”

You raise your hand up to his and squeeze his hand.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, Jay. Ever since you’ve been back, I feel like something is going to rip the carpet under me and I’ll lose you again. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

Jason sniffles and wipes away his watery eyes. 

“Thank you.” Jason replied.

You smile at him gently and hug him.

“I uh, heard you’re gonna be hanging out with Tim tonight. I think that’s great that the two of you can talk for real this time, maybe having a big brother would help him move forward.” You stated.

Jason just nods his head, knowing what you meant.

He then followed you inside and headed straight to the bat cave, awaiting for Tim. In ten minutes, the young Drake boy looked uneasy, like he was about to meet his creator. 

“H-Hey.” Tim said, shifting on his bare feet as he entered the bottom of the bat cave.

Tim has been dreading this day.

Sparring with Bruce and Dick benefited Tim’s fighting skills. Bruce taught him calculation and timing. Dick supported encouragement and using your instincts. 

But Jason? In his time as Red Hood, he has killed men, mercenaries, you name it. And now that Jason was here ready to fight, Tim was scared that maybe Jason would use all his anger on him.

Jason bandaged his hands and took off his shirts. Every inch of his skin was etched with faded scars and bullet wounds. Tim gulped loudly as he prepped his stance.

In an instant, Jason charged first, taking Tim off guard.

“Hey! We didn’t start yet!” Tim yelled out, being knocked down on the ground.

“Lesson one, Drake: A fight can happen any time, any place. Never lose your guard.” Jason offered his hand. As Tim received it, Jason lifted him off the ground and body slammed him opposite of where he laid.

“Lesson two: never trust if your opponent has mercy. Always protect yourself.” 

Tim huffed out loud before jumping on his feet, wiping away the sweat and the cut on his brow. 

Jason looked too calm for this spar. Not an inch of his hair was out of place, even his white streak by his widow’s peak shown brightly in the dark cave.

Tim ran forward, striking with his right fist. Out of nowhere, Jason took out a small ninja star and flicked it towards Tim’s face. Just in time, Tim ducked it and body rolled on the mat, looking at Jason like a mad man.

“Are you out of your mind?” Tim screamed out loud.

“Lesson three: Be resourceful. Take anything in reach to your advantage. Bruce didn’t teach you these things?” Jason asked, circling Tim like a vulture flying around its prey.

“Bruce taught me how to sharpen my hacking skills, how to control my body in duress.” 

Jason scoffed as he looked at Tim. 

“I thought you had something in you, but I was wrong. What kind of Robin are you?”

That statement broke Tim as he tightened his fists and struck Jason in the chest. Jason staggered a little and looked at Tim, smirking.

“There he is!” Jason yelled out, almost mechanically.

Tim furrowed his brow and took a punch again to Jason’s shoulder. Jason looked like he was enjoying this little fight and took another punch from Tim.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Tim asked, getting frustrated.

“I wanna see what you can do, surprise me.” Jason smiled wickedly, raising his fist.

The two of them began to strike again, wanting to know who the last man will stand.

+

“It’s been awhile since we had a date night.” You said, holding Bruce’s hand as you two were being driven by Alfred to your mystery date. 

“I know, a lot has happened and I thought the two of us deserve some time together.” Bruce said, rubbing his thumb across your thigh from the slit of your dress.

“And what would our time be spent on tonight?” You ask, gleaming.

“A night of your favorite cuisine, soft music in the background, and a melted chocolate soufflé.” Bruce replied, leaning in for a kiss.

You smiled as you kissed Bruce, losing your hand in his dark ravenous hair. You could feel his hands in the back of your dress, trying to find the zipper by your spine.

“Bruce…” You warned as you felt his lips by your neck.

“We have until 15 minutes till we get to the restaurant. I just want you to myself for just a little bit.” He whispers, feeling his hot breath by your ear.

“I bet you won’t last for 8 minutes.” You dared.

“Make it 6”  Bruce remarked, seeing a sly look in his hand.

You two smiled as you both couldn’t help but take your hands off each other.

A knock is heard from the driver’s cabin, alerting that Alfred could possibly hear every word you’re saying. 

You cover your mouth in embarrassment as Bruce couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 

“Why don’t we wait after tonight?” You ask Bruce, straightening up in your seat.

“Of course, I’ll behave just for you.” Bruce reaches out for your hand, kissing it as you blushed.

Your fingers intertwined with each other as you look lovingly in each other’s eyes.

+

The two sons were getting tired. Jason was heaving his chest, as Tim may have bruised ribs from being kicked a few times too many.

Tim, now sporting a deeper cut by his temple, tries to wipe the trickling blood from his forehead with his arm. Tim refuses to back down, especially to Jason. An idea pops in his head and he slowly circles around Jason, taunting him.

“What makes you think you could be capable of teaching me to fight?” Tim asks.

Jason huffs and gives a wicked smirk. “If you’ve forgotten already, I have a reputation. Nothing gets past me.”

“You sure about that? Heard when you were Robin, you had no control, no conscience. Just chaos at every turn you made.”

Tim caught a glimpse of Jason’s tough exterior slowly cracking. Jason resumed in silencing, alerting Tim that his tactic might work. So, he took his chance and punched Jason by his left cheekbone.

“Did I strike a nerve?” Tim asks.

Jason was silent, but his eyes grown darker from their natural color. 

Tim almost felt worried, but he knew Jason would never do anything that could hurt him seriously.

Right?

“If we’re striking nerves, I wanted to clarify that I’m only here cause Ma asked me to come. Said she’s worried about you. But I see it in Bruce’s face. He thinks you’ll never be ready to go out on the field again. And frankly, I don’t think you’re able to.”

“Who says you have the final say? You just showed up to Gotham out of the blue just to prove that you’re what, the prodigal son? Please, I survived the Joker. You were overpowered by a man with no powers or strength. He was smart enough to end the job quick with you.”

A ripple soared through the air as Tim found himself on the ground as he held his left jaw as Jason was huffing his chest, breathing heavily.

Jason could only be described like a raging animal, as his dark past was catching up to him.

He grabbed Tim by the collar and raised him high as his feet dangled in the air. 

Right when Jason was about to make the first strike, he suddenly hears maniacal laughter.

‘Show him who you truly are…’ the voice sneered.

Jason staggered away as he dropped Tim, feeling his head pound. 

“Get out…” Jason held onto the sparring mat as he grit his teeth.

“J-Jason, are you alright?” Tim asks as he holds his side.

Jason whipped his head fiercely as he bear his teeth. 

“I SAID GET OUT!”

Tim took an immediate step back with fear in his eyes. Jason can see it to you as he forced his eye sight downward as he was crouched on the floor.

“You don’t know what it’s like… to have everything you ever wanted taken away in a single second. I tried protecting my birth mom by taking every beating that demon gave to me. I tried saving her from that bomb. I felt myself dying at an instant. Then I come back with half a mind of my own, still hearing that psychotic man’s voice in my head.”

Tim can see Jason almost crying as his shoulders were slumped.

Tim treaded lightly towards Jason as he slowly got on his knees, then slowly placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The older brother almost flinched with physical contact, but it was when he looked up to Tim who’s eyes weren’t full of fear but with sympathy. 

The two brothers get up from the sparring mat as Jason gave a heartfelt hug. Tim was shocked at first, but accepted the embrace.

“Amateurs, all of you.” A young voice said out loud.

Jason and Tim looked around their surroundings, searching for the voice.

Tim picked up a sparring bo staff and defended his ground.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” 

A quiet whip like sound pierced the wind as a small shadow lands a couple of feet by them. 

The figure wore dark ancient clothing, asian descent if Tim could describe it. The stranger lifted their mask off and revealed a boy, much younger than both the brothers.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked harshly as he shoved past Tim.

“Mother is on an important mission. I wished to join her but she told me to come here and meet father.”

“Wait wait wait, you know this kid?” Tim asks, lowering his staff. 

The young figure sneered from the last statement.

“I am to be respected and feared, my age does not limit my lethal skills, Tim Drake.” 

Tim had enough and tries striking his opponent but he swiftly moved out of his way and swept Tim off his balance, just like Jason has performed before.

“And he calls himself the smart one.” The child comments.

“Look demon spawn, no one picks on Drake unless me, okay? And you have shown up on the worst night possible. Bruce isn’t here.”

“I have waited for almost 10 years to meet him, what’s another hour?” 

Tim rises up from the mat as he looks at the child.

“Why do you want to meet Bruce?” 

“Because he’s my father.” The child crosses his arms

Silence filled the cave. Not even a gust of wind dare to make a whistling sound. 

Tim looks at Jason for confirmation as the elder brother bows his head.

“Then who’s your mom?” Tim dares to ask.

Damien beams with pride as he steps closer to Tim.

“Someone you should be very afraid of.”

+

After you and Bruce finished your very intimate dinner, your heart began to flutter.

"Bruce, you know that you didn't have to reserve all of the restaurant just so we could have dinner alone?"

You said, sipping your wine.

"Of course not, that's why I bought the restaurant from the owner."

"Bruce!"

You two started laughing out loud as you knew that Bruce wasn't serious. If you just met Bruce now, you'd think he's this pompous rich guy. You told him first on that he didn't need to impress you with grand gestures or money. As long as you two worked as a team who gave back to their community and their family, then you never had to question his love for you.

Those were all the things Bruce was thinking of saying to you tonight.

"What's in that mysterious mind of yours?" You ask.

He smiles to himself as he softly held your hand in his, feeling his chest tighten with slight anxiousness.

"There's been something I've been wanting to say to you for some time..."

He was about to get out of his chair until his phone buzzed. He looks at the caller and sees that it's Tim.

Bruce powers his phone off, thinking it wouldn't be important.

"Everything alright?" You ask.

"Yeah, absolutely. Where was I?"

"You wanted to tell me something." You said, trying to suppress a smile of your sudden excitement.

Bruce reaches for your hand and kisses your palm, giving you the most genuine gaze you haven't seen in a while.

"I have been wanting to do this for the longest time. Love, I-"

A sudden ring is heard from your phone as you reach towards your purse.

"It's Jason. I think the kids have been trying to reach us."

"They're fine, trust me." Bruce tries to change the subject but you shake your head.

"I don't know Bruce, something feels wrong."

You answer your phone as you place it towards your ear.

"Hi honey, we just finished eating dinner. What - J - You want to talk to Bruce?"

Bruce face turns shocked as you offer your phone to him.

"Jason, now's not a good time." Bruce says.

"Bruce, I wouldn't have called you unless it was important. You need to come back to the manor now." Jason said.

"Did you tell him yet?" Tim asks from afar but then his two sons started bickering.

"Guys, what are you two trying to say? Hold on." Bruce taps the screen and places it on speaker as he stood up facing away from your nervous state.

Tim takes over the conversation as he steals the phone from Jason.

"Bruce, some kid broke into the cave while we were sparring saying he's-"

"Wait, a kid broke into the cave? Why are you and Jason fighting?" You ask, raising form your chair.

"It's fine, I told them it's alright."

"Uh, I don't think so. Tim's still recovering from the last fight he's had and you left them both unsupervised!"

"They're fine, but can we handle the situation at hand? You're the one that wanted to call them back."

"And now you're blaming me for caring? Well excuse me for-"

"I tire of this nonsense." An unfamiliar voice said as they possibly took the phone away from the bickering siblings.

"Bruce Wayne, my name is Damian al Ghul, son of Talia al Ghul and grandson of the powerful Ra's al Ghul. I am your rightful heir, your true blood son, conceived from 8 years ago when you were on a mission with my mother."

Silence filled both rooms.

"Perhaps the connection disconnected?" Damian asks the brothers.

"Nope, he heard." Jason said as the call suddenly ended.

Bruce looks at the phone, then back at you as your eyes filled with tears of betrayal.

Bruce tries to go up to you, feeling his throat tighten.

"Love, I-"

"Stop, please." You said, moving backwards as your voice lowers.

"I think its best we go back to the manor. Let's just talk later, okay?"

You try to smile but it failed as your eyesight was lost in more tears.

You leave Bruce standing there alone as you walked to the limo that was waiting outside.

"Hello Madame, I guess a congratulations are in order?" Alfred asks cheerfully as he turned back to you.

His face fell as he saw you trying to cover your tears with your left hand that had no ring. You couldn't even muster a sentence to the one person that has your one interest at heart for this night.

Alfred bowed his head in silence until Bruce came inside and sat far from you as you couldn't even look at him.

"Where to, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks.

"Home, there's someone expecting to see me."

"Who sir?"

Bruce felt hesitant to answer, but then he locked his gaze to the window.

"My son, Damian."

Taglist:

@thisnameistaken1234

@linora09

[livfastdieyoung69]

OH OH YK WHAT I NEED BAD? KO SIBLING X CODY OOOOO I NEED IT I NEEDDDD IT

NEW BEGINNINGS

(Cody Rhodes x Non-described!Owens!Reader, can be read as adopted or not)

Anger issues and complaining runned in the Owen’s family. It was what your family did, most of you on the side, but your brother, he did it for his literal career. Like seriously, Kevin just complained for a living- he got on a microphone and yelled. As jealous as you were, it wasn’t your gimmick unfortunately. The two of you grew up side by side, falling in love with wrestling together, and eventually even growing in the business together. Though you had pretty similar styles, Kevin loved being in the WWE and everything he stood for there, and you loved being in TNA, and all of the accomplishments you’ve made in the company.

Though you were on separate paths, whenever they happened to cross, you’d sit down and have lunch, or dinner, or whatever else you could manage and do what Owens’ did best- complain together.

“How’s working with all of the Bloodline guys, still?” You ask after taking a gulp from your soda. Before you can even finish, he’s rolling his eyes and groaning with a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Still fucking terrible. There’s more of them! Like an endless amount, they just keep popping up out of nowhere, and the more that come, the crazier they fucking get,” His exasperated sound makes you laugh. “I’m serious!”

You shake your head while he takes another massive bite out of his burger.

“Who’d you just work with? Uh, what’s his name? That woo woo woo guy? Zak Ryder!” You nod, taking a bite of your own food after muttering the ‘You Know It’ part of the catchphrase.

“He’s Matt Cardona now- that’s his actual name. He’s a nice guy…a lot, but nice. Like so much, really, all smiles and enthusiasm all the time. When Chelsea won the title, he brought a replica the next day and everyone thought it was the real one.”

This was how it usually went- catch up through each others feuds and how annoying everyone else was, and eventually the chatter would die down and you’d eat for a little, and then someone would pick up an actual conversation. The only problem here though, was there was one more feud of Kevins you were trying to avoid, but it was kind of hard. He was a massive deal in the company and a massive part of Kevins life right now.

“I know what you’re doing.” Kevin states causally, leaning back in his chair after starting on his fries.

“What?” You try to laugh it off, but you don’t look up from your own plate.

“Cody. You don’t wanna ask me about him.”

“….I just figured you’d want to keep your mind off it with the match at the Royal Rumble coming up.” You try, but he shakes his head. That was still in a couple weeks.

“Dude. I know you’re a fan- you literally still have the shirt from when he did the Dashing thing years ago. You liked Stardust, you know who else liked Stardust? No one.“

“Okay, I get it, you don’t have to publicly shame me about it. You can complain about everyone else, that’s my exception.” The two of you are quick to go back to silence while you try to finish your meal, and he chugs down another soda. The man ate ridiculously fast, nothing could stop him.

“You know,” He broke the quiet again. “You would really like WWE. Paul keeps bugging me about talking to you.”

“So you’ve told me,” You shrug. “I don’t know. TNA’s my home at this point, I can’t imagine leaving.” A laugh rips through you at a sudden thought and he nods his head for you to continue. “Maybe, maybe if you got Cody to ask-“ His eyes close with a sigh, and he immediately starts shaking his head, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Don’t push it.”

That had been about a week ago. You’d both gone back to your regularly scheduled program, him on Fridays and you on Thursdays. His feud with Cody continued, with a whole bunch of shit happening over there, and you moved on to work with other TNA superstars. After another long Thursday night you’re ready to conk out from the very fun, but tiring, on top of the night of wrestling, celebration with Joe Hendry for his new, recent title win (you’d already given your condolences to Nic).

As soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone rings. And you know it’s Kevin because you had set his theme song for his ringtone.

“What’s wrong?” You answer on the first ring. It’s late, and this is unusual, the first thing your mind goes to is that something happened.

“Did you see the news?”

“What fucking news Kevin, you’re freaking me out-“

“WWE and TNA signed a contract, anyone can go anywhere,” He rushes out, your name following it. “Anyone can go anywhere.”

You aren’t even sure what to say, and the phone line goes quiet while you stammer before Kevin interrupts.

“I gave Paul your number- he wants you in the Rumble.”

And now, here you were. This was fucking crazy! Of the entire TNA roster, you, Joe Hendry, and Jordynne Grace had been picked to join the Royal Rumble. Everything was so different here, you could see why Kevin liked it. Everything reminded you of him, and to be able to see him this much was so great. You traveled together, for the first time since your teenage years, and with all of the excitement you felt that young again too.

The Guerrilla was packed. It was great to see people you had worked with in the past, like Naomi and AJ Styles, but it was also great to meet new faces. Maxxine Dupri was the nicest person you had ever met, and so pretty. And you finally got to meet Chelsea! She wanted to keep in touch in case Matt tried to take her actual belt next time, apparently she hadn’t known he bought the replica.

Right now, the women’s rumble was seconds from kicking everything off so it was mostly women in the area, but a couple guys were wandering around too. Joe Hendry had stayed near you, which both of you were thankful for, he was actually a pretty shy guy behind cameras and you hated being alone around so many people. Jordynne and Naomi were a lot more acquainted than you were with her, so they snuck off to the side to have a chat.

The match was quick to begin with Iyo Sky and Liv Morgan before others started to quickly fill in. Your number was later on, you’d gotten 22. You didn’t want to be so late, and had tried to fight Paul about it but he was adamant the crowd would be excited, plus you had enough spots behind you to stay in for a while. The crowd started to wear out in Geurilla, and eventually you found yourself in the small room everything led to, with about ten other entrants, Maxxine had just went through the curtain at number 14.

“So,” Kevin strolls up from behind you with a bowl of something from catering. “I don’t want to hear a single word of this. But I called in a favor.” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to him, and he holds up a hand. “Not a word.” And then he walks out. What the fuck?

You don’t have time to think about that anyways, now you’re wishing Jordynne (number 19) good luck as the buzzer rushes. After her, is the great return of Alexa Bliss, who is granted the biggest pop so far, which Zelina Vega follows, and then all that’s left in front of you is the grey curtain covering the biggest opportunity you’ve received in your life.

That was both the longest and shortest minute and a half of your entire life, but when the crowd counts down, and the buzzer rings out, and your music starts playing, you’ve never heard anything louder. You fight to your last breath, and then you keep fighting. You make it pass Nia Jax’s mass elimination, and lots of other attempts, and somehow, its just you and Charlotte Flair. You give it your best, but the nerves get the best of you, and Charlotte ends up throwing you over the rope.

As disappointed as you are, you made it farther than you could’ve dreamed of, and as the fans yell for your attention while you walk back up the ramp, you can’t help but be proud. You walk through the curtain to find your fellow (past, and present) TNA stars cheering you on, and you’re too busy taking the praise with embarrassment and a shy gaze to the ground, that you don’t notice Kevins favor until you’re snapping a picture with HHH for media.

In all of his glory, standing directly across from you all the way across the room, is Cody Rhodes. Clapping. And staring at you, with that one smile. Y’know, the one, the Dashing Cody Rhodes shit eating grin.

“Oh my God, Kevin,” You mutter under your breath when the pictures are over and you can turn away. “What the fuck. Kevin. What the fuck.” Kevin is no where in sight, and Paul is laughing at you so hard.

“Heard you’re a pretty big fan,” You can hear him approaching from behind you and there’s nothing else you can do but face him and hope not to embarrass yourself any further.

“I’d say I’m an avid watcher, if that’s what you’d like to consider me, yes.” He’s still grinning at you like that, and it’s making this so much harder. The rest of the room is funneling out.

“Oh, okay, okay. Just a big Stardust fan, then?” Your lips purse into a fine line when you find you have no explanation.

“How much did he tell you, exactly?” God, you’re never coming back to this company ever again. Only to get back at Kevin for this. He shrugs.

“I’m just teasing, don’t worry,” His grin relaxed, and suddenly he looks more like the American Nightmare Cody, and his hand is resting on your shoulder. “I’m a pretty big fan, too. You were great out there.”

“Oh, I tried my best, thanks,” Your face is heating up again, and you try to push it off.

“Really, you were great. I hope I get to see you around some more.” You still can’t find any words, and the room seems to be getting hotter by the second. “Or, out of it either. Not to be this straight forward, and feel free to tell me to back off, but if you’re around tomorrow, I’d love to take you to dinner or something.”

“Uhm, uh-“ I’m between your sputtering you find yourself laughing. “You’re about to go fight to the death with my brother.” He laughs, looking down at his ring gear, and nods his head, because yes, he’s going to go beat the shit out of your brother.

“I’m guessing that’s a back off?” He looks back up through his eyelashes with the grin that makes you melt.

“No, no, please, bring him to hell and back.” You grin back, before nodding shyly. “Dinner would be great.” Before you have the chance to keep talking, Pauls calling him over, and he gives you an apologetic look and tells you somehow, he’ll get ahold of you before he rushes over to HHH. Kevin comes in shortly after, and laughs at you with no clue that his worst enemy thinks your fine as hell, and that you’re going to go chase Jey Uso down for his phone number. You sit in the Guerrilla for just a second longer and watch them both disappear behind the curtain before you run off to take a shower, and text everybody you’ve ever known that Cody Fucking Rhodes just asked you out.

Maybe you would be coming back to WWE a couple more times.

Wow look at me goooo it feels like its been so long since i wrote for Cody (prolly cuz it has been)

I’m hungry, sick, and tired but I’m ignoring all of my problems and sat down during raw and couldn’t stop so here you go ig

Enjoy this you probably wont get much more from me this month but im gonna try my best i think the seasonal depression hit me mostly last month but its supposed to snow on Wednesday so that’s when we’ll really see