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duuhrayliegh · 4 years ago

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watch your six - part two

pairing: eventual bucky x reader

warnings: some violence, trigger warning of sedation (it isn’t in there for a long time and the description of it isn’t super good BUT it’s still there), mentions of kidnapping, i think that’s it.

word count: just a bit over 3k

a/n: okay! here’s part two, i’m experimenting with the longer parts, so let me know what y’all think of it. bucky does make an appearance soon, i swear y’all :) just be patience with me babes. also, i know this isn’t like the typical fan fic because it isn’t in the second person but we’re powering through together. i hope y’all enjoy babes <3

p.s.: if y’all want to be added to a tag list for this series, shoot me a message and we’ll get it worked out

series m.list

ray’s m.list

*****************

I shot up from my bed, eyes wild and frantic searching for anything to ground me to my current surroundings. It was just a dream, just a dream. It was just a dream. Except it didn’t feel like a dream. Everything was too detailed, too crisp for it to have really been just a dream. I swung my legs off my bed and grabbed a hold of the fluffy white comforter. Groaning, I pushed my feet to touch the cold hardwood of my apartment. I made my way towards my kitchen and my coffee maker. I popped a breakfast blend K-cup into the slot and dumped a mug full of water into the side of the machine. Pressing the button, I turned while listening to the coffee machine force the water through the coffee grounds and filter and into my cup.

Looking out into my living room, I eyed my couch. It was intact with no bullet holes riddling the cushions. It was still the pristine white that I’ve spent many nights curled on watching movies. The dark stained wood coffee table in front of it brought memories of long study sessions with books and loose papers strewn across it. A faint smile graced my lips as I was reminiscing. The black coffee maker spit the last of the dark substance into my mug, so I reached into my cabinets and pulled out the essentials. I’ve never been one for pure black coffee, tastes like tar in my opinion. The aftertaste isn’t something that I want to deal with for as long as it’ll last.

I dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the cup and then poured a dash of liquid creamer in along with it. Stirring the now light brown liquid, I raised the mug to my mouth and took a much needed sip. Sighing as I swallowed, I walked around to the couch in the living. Plopping down, I kicked my feet to rest on top of the coffee table. Leaning back against the cushions, I tried to process what my dream was about.

It was just too real to be a dream, right? It was awfully specific to be a dream. Squinting my eyes, I nodded my head and set my mug on the table. Reaching for my laptop and opening the first browser I could, I searched ‘dream analysis.’ Maybe they’ll have something that can give me an answer as to why it was so clear. Scrolling down the first website, my eyes scanning the bolded letters. Nine Common Dreams and What They Could Mean, oh perfect. Flying, being naked in public, teeth falling out, cheating, none of these are like my dream. I shook my head and swiped out of the website and back to the search engine.

It was late in the morning and the sun was rising to its peak when I finally gave up. It’s obvious what happened though, I’ve gone mental. Absolutely insane, just plain certifiable. No, no, that’s not what it is. My coffee now gone cold, I placed my closed laptop on the coffee table next to the discarded coffee mug. I stood and my head started throbbing. Deciding I would have a better outlook on things without a pounding head, I took a shower. The water was a pleasant, scalding temperature. Leaving the bathroom with my hair in a towel and another wrapped around my body, I changed into a simple pair of ripped mom jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Hanging my towels on the rack in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and then turned out the light as I left.

Today was my one day off of work this week and I was going to savor it. Slipping on a pair of ratty sneakers and grabbing my purse from the hook next to the door, I left my cozy apartment. I locked the door and shoved my keys all the way to the bottom of my purse. I left my building with the intention of trying to shake off the nightmare that I had. To do so, I went into the coffee shop at the end of the block. I pushed the doors open and was greeted with a warm and inviting atmosphere. Dark floors gave way to twinkling lights illuminating the charcoal gray walls. Behind the counter, I make eye contact with the barista and receive a tight-lipped smile from him. “Hi, welcome to Beniot’s Beans. What can I get started for you today?”

I glanced at the chalkboard menu and ran my eyes over it quickly. I already knew what I wanted, but I needed to prepare myself to say it out loud. “Hello, can I get a medium caramel iced coffee to go, please?” I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as he scribbled my order onto the clear plastic cup. He told me my total as I looted in my wallet for my bills. After placing the money in the register, he explained that they would call my order when it was ready. I nodded and walked off to find somewhere to sit that was out of the way. After situating myself on one of the comfortable armchairs, I pulled my phone out in an effort to discourage human interaction. After retrieving my order from the counter, I sat back down in the armchair, trying to decide what to do next. The hour was just rolling over to being almost lunchtime, which made me realize that I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Shrugging my purse back onto my shoulder and shoving my phone into it, I left the store throwing a small wave to the barista behind the counter.

Sighing contentedly, I made the trek back to my apartment while steadily drinking the iced coffee. Some people say coffee shouldn’t be cold, and then there’s people who have sense. Giggling to myself, I took in my surroundings. Brick buildings lined the small two-way road. The donut shop on the opposite side of the street had two cop cruisers sitting in front of it. The contrasting black and white paint with black lettering outlined in yellow was intimidating. There was no reason for it to be, but there was just an aura of discomfort encapsulating the cars. By this time, I had stopped, slurping on my almost empty iced coffee. Breaking out of my trance with a ring of a bell, four officers exited the donut shop. Two of the officers held off-white cardboard boxes, they were all laughing at something. I tilted my head and scrunched my brows, guess the stereotype about cops is true, they love their donuts. Sensing a stare, one of the officers looked around for the source. Eventually, our gazes locked and he winked. Uh, ew. Making a face, I shook my head and went about my way back to my apartment.

Despite that experience, it was nice to be able to have no specific agenda, just relaxing and going with the flow. My inner monologue stopped when I got to my kitchen and started deciding what to prepare for lunch. Finally landing on a box of macaroni and cheese to satisfy my hunger, I set to work. The pot of water now on the stove, I tossed my empty plastic cup from the coffee shop into the garbage bin. I went around to my living room and grabbed my coffee mug from earlier and placed it in the sink, after rinsing it out. I’ll wash that and the stuff I use for lunch after I finish eating. I dumped the box of uncooked noodles into the now boiling water. Soon, the macaroni was ready to be eaten, so I poured the cheesy noodles into a bowl. Hoisting myself onto the granite countertop, I began to inhale the food. Wow, okay I was hungrier than I thought. It didn’t take long to finish off the noodles. As I was washing the dirty dishes, the intercom system of the apartment went off. Weird, I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?” I inquired into the speaker box. “Hi, I’m looking for the inhabitant of this flat.”

My brows furrowing, I asked again, “Who is this?”

“Ma’am, please don’t waste my time or yours. Is this the woman who lives in this apartment, yes or no?” They sounded exhausted. “I need to speak with the woman who lives here.” I was shocked, this didn’t seem right. Alright, I’m a woman living alone in an apartment building. Some stranger comes to my building, asking to speak to me, so what do I do?

“Uh, yeah they’re not here. You’ll have to come back later.” The lie was easy. Safety first and all, right? There was no reply after waiting a few minutes, so I went back to doing my dishes. After drying and putting them away, I kicked my shoes off and settled into my couch with a fluffy blue throw. Flicking the TV on, I picked the home improvement channel. I stretched out on the couch while wondering how realtor Bessie May was going to find this couple the perfect home. Snuggling further into the pillows, I was able to drift off into a dreamless slumber.

*********************************

It was loud banging that eventually roused me. Untangling myself from the fluff that wrapped around my legs, I toppled onto the floor. “I’m coming, hold your horses!” I shouted at the door. Who the hell? I swear if it’s my crazy neighbor again. “Marge! If this is you, we are going to have a problem!” I huffed my way to the door and yanked it open to reveal a group of men in what looked like dark tactical gear. Confusion overtook my facial features. I took a step back and tightened my grip on my door knob.

“Um… hi? Can I help you?” I questioned the group at large.

“Ma’am, we’re looking for the permanent resident of this apartment.” The man to my left said. He was short and stocky, he was also the only man wearing a dark gray suit. “Are you the permanent resident of this unit?” He continued while trying to see over my shoulders and into the living room.

“No, they’re not here right now.” I repeated the lie from earlier. I had an inkling this had to do with that, what else could it be?

“Well, do you know when she’ll be back?” He pressed, still stealing glances into my abode.

“No, she didn’t say. You’ll have to come back later. Goodbye.” I stated while closing the door. I was almost home free until a combat boot clad foot was stuck into the door frame.

“You see ma’am, this really isn’t the time to be lying to me.” The suited man explained. I took a deep breath and continued trying to close the door.

“Well, I’ve already told you all I know. The person who owns this place isn’t here right now.” The door was stopped yet again by the same foot.

“Ma’am, you need to invite us inside. We have things to discuss.” Suits ordered.

My brows raised, “Or what?” I scoffed, “Look you need to leave before I call the police. Good day to you gentlemen.” Another attempt to close the door was once again defeated, but this time the door swung in. Allowing entrance into my apartment. My eyes widened and I rushed away from the door, putting as much distance between the group of men and myself.

“What the hell are you doing! I’m calling the police.” I reached for my phone that was laying on the coffee table. It was snatched away from me by a man in tactical gear. His hair was cropped and dark, he slipped my phone into one of the many pockets of his vest. I raised my eyebrows at the man, and began demanding my phone from him.

“Listen ma’am, we’re going to need you to come with us.” Suits insisted. My gaze darted to him, if looks could kill man. “We’re allowing you the privilege of getting a bag of your necessities.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my ever rising nerves. I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to clear the fogginess of sleep to process what Suits was saying. “We don’t have all day. Get your stuff now.” I shook my head and started refusing.

“Yeah, that won’t be happening. I’m asking you one last time to leave my apartment before I start screaming.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective stance. They’ve got five seconds before I raise hell. Suits made a face that looked like he was disappointed.

“Grab her.” The man who took my phone advanced at me. His whole hand covered my upper arm, lifting it and beginning to drag me to the door. I started kicking out, clawing, trying to make contact with anything that I could hurt. Damage, don’t stop fighting. Don’t give in. Whipping my upper body around, I managed to scratch the man's cheek. He cried out in pain and his grip loosened for just a moment. Long enough for me to wrench my arm away from him and run towards the front door. My path was interrupted by a wall of a man. Towering over me, he wrapped both of his arms around my torso. Effectively stopping all of my movement while he turned me in his grasp to face Suits once again.

“Help! Someone help me! Help me!” This was a quiet enough building, shouts like that would surely gain someone’s attention, right? “Help! Someone help me, please!” I was screaming my throat sore. Not stopping until there was a large hand placed over my mouth. Even then, there were muffled cries that could be heard throughout my otherwise silent apartment unit. Stifled sobs were leaving my lungs in heaves. Suits approached me and shook his head,

“It really didn’t have to be like this but, of course.” He turned to one of his goons and nodded his head towards me. I began screaming again as the final goon stepped forward. His hair was slicked back and I could smell the hair gel that he must have just dipped his head into. Hair Gel reached into his pocket and brought out a small white case.

He unzipped the case and gestured to the mass of a man behind me. My head was moved to expose my neck, I struggled against Mass while Hair Gel approached. Screaming and thrashing trying to disrupt what I thought was about to happen. Hair Gel assembled a syringe, outfitting it with a blue capped needle. Hair Gel extracted a clear liquid into the syringe, he got closer to my jolting body, glaring at Mass.

“Hold her still, you buffoon.” He grunted at Mass. The grip around me began cutting off my circulation to the lower half of my body. Not deterring me in any way, I still made it as hard as I could for Hair Gel. There was a pinch on the side of my neck, and then a warm feeling passed through my body. Mass’s hand was still covering my mouth and his arms around my torso, if it weren’t for that I probably would’ve fallen straight to the ground. Oh hell man, what am I going to do now?

My body went limp in Mass’s hold, and my mind was starting to become fuzzy. Looking around at the three men in front of me, I worried what was going to happen. I’ve seen Taken. I know what happens to girls who travel alone. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people like me. Suits sighed yet again, looking disinterested in the whole affair. Suits looked to the man who I scratched and shook his head at him.

“You seriously let her get her hands on you?” Suits mocked, “That’s pathetic, Gomez.”

“Pathetic? She was clawing me, man!” The man, Gomez, defended.

“It doesn’t matter, you idiot. You still aren’t supposed to let it happen.” Suits berated Gomez and then waved him off, “Go get the stuff. And don’t mess it up this time, ya got that?” Gomez rolled his eyes at Suits, but nodded anyway. He left the room towards my bedroom. My eyelids started drooping, I willed them to stay open a bit longer.

“How long’s it gonna take that stuff to kick in?” Suits asked Hair Gel.

“Oh, it starts working immediately.” Hair Gel finished replacing everything in his white case, turning to me, he continued, “The body reacts to the compound right away, inducing temporary paralysis. It’s really quite remarkable to watch it in action.”

Suits glanced at Hair Gel, “You mean to tell me it doesn’t make them unconscious? What the hell did I bring you along for?”

“Of course it makes the victim unconscious, what do you think I’m stupid or something? It just takes a couple of minutes for the enzyme to break down for the brain.” Hair Gel tilted his head while looking at me. He gave me a once over and if I had any kind of control over my body, there would’ve been an unmistakable shiver that passed through my body. Gomez emerged with a duffle in tow and dumped the closed bag on the couch.

“Don’t forget the laptop, Gomez.” Suits reminded him while his attention was on the kitchen of my apartment. “Alright, let’s go.” With the effort it takes to lift a feather, Mass carried me bridal style out of my unit. My eyelids were becoming even more heavy and I screamed and shouted in my head, but my mouth just wouldn’t move. The four men made their way out, passing my crazy neighbor Marge.

“Can I help you boys with something?” Marge’s door was open, and she leaned up against the frame, watching this scene go down.

“Nothing to be worried about ma’am. This is official government business.” Suits reported, simply shrugging off Marge.

“Government business?” Marge shrieked, and a glimmer of hope flashed in my head. Marge won’t fall for your bullshit Suits. She’s going to save me. “I always knew there was something off about that one.” What the hell, Marge?

“Like I said ma’am, nothing to worry about. Now if you would, just go back inside. We’re done here.” Suits advised. Marge, who was none the wiser, bounced her shoulders and turned back into her own unit. She could be heard through the door explaining to her guests that her next door neighbor was always strange and never really sat right with her.

“Doesn’t surprise me they’re taking her away. I always knew something was off about that girl. I told you so.” Marge howled with laughter after her statement. My last hope dashed by my crazy neighbor’s complete ignorance and lack of acknowledgement for her surroundings. Mass began his descent of the stairs with a steady pace. The constant rocking back and forth of his body weight served to lull my eyelids the rest of the way closed.

#bucky x reader #eventual bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #sebastian stan #bucky fanfic #female reader insert #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

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thechekhov · 4 years ago

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Hey you are cool so I wanna ask you for advice. How can I stop feeling like a lazy piece of trash although I am productive? I feel bad lately, and my Dad doesn't even think I could do a simple cleaning job for a small office. I feel so dumb honestly, like Im too incompetent to do anything

Hey, sorry this is late! I ended up not being able to answer in the moment, so I had to take time to file it away for later.

I know I probably don’t know exactly what you’re going through but I can sort of relate a little bit - although my brain is good at certain tasks, it’s SHIT at others. I can sit and drawn for hours, but doing things that involve simple social processes are things I swerve to avoid.

So I guess that’s what I wanna talk to you about - different strengths.

First of all, we don’t all naturally gravitate towards the same urge to do the same things. We have a stat block, like a video game creature or a pokemon that has a random assignment of points to its ORGANIZE and CREATE and BUILD and (+ 1 million other variations) abilities. This is actually normal and natural - humans are social animals. If we all naturally wanted to do the same thing all the time, our group would find it difficult to work together.

Second, you’re not a robot - doing something is not as simple as pressing a button. Yes, some things are important to do - keeping your space clean, helping out, doing errands, etc. - but just because they SHOULD be done doesn’t automatically make them easier to do. To some people these tasks come more naturally, and to some they are so far down on the list that they are practically tortures.

If your dad doesn’t think you can do a simple cleaning job for a small office then - maybe he’s right!

....and who cares?

MANY people can’t do a simple cleaning job for a small office. Doing cleaning requires skill. I know we tend to look down on people who do menial labor but I personally find this laughable. Cleaning ISN’T simple. It requires abilities like organization (gathering supplies), planning (how long something will take and what needs doing), spatial reasoning (where to start cleaning from in order to maximize efficiency) and physical stamina (scrubbing, bending down, twisting yourself into weird shapes to reach something, etc).

(I personally wish we’d stop approaching cleaning as something that is so simple it is a given - people often need to be taught *how* to clean from an early age. They need practice cleaning and they need guidance. So your dad saying that is literally a blank statement - it means nothing to your overall productivity or worth.)

You know what you CAN do instead of cleaning a small office that’s just as impressive and just as important?

You can write! Forgive my presumptions - I see from your profile you’re a fic writer. That’s great! That’s also a skill that needs time to develop! Not many people have the correct stats for writing - it’s something that’s also highly valued in society!

Your productivity is not - should not - be measured by what other people personally think you should be doing for their benefit.

And furthermore - your productivity does not define your worth. Some of us are more productive one day and less so the next. Some of us create/draw/write/build/sew/read/research/present/ cook/clean less stuff than others in a lifetime. And you know what? That’s also fine. We’re not striving towards a goal. We don’t have a prize to win for productivity at the end.

So if you’re not productive and you can’t clean - don’t worry! You’re still a person and it does not make you any less deserving of love.

P.S. And if you’re personally bothered by not being able to do something - if you are motivated to change this - I definitely recommend approaching ANY basic life skill with the assumption that it is NOT easy and WILL take time and proper guidance to learn. That way you will not put yourself down so much when you don’t automatically know how to do it.

#softheartedsnake #motivation #productivity #chekhov answers

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choerrypuffs · 5 years ago

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enchanted.

pairing: prince!jungwoo x witch!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 9.4k

synopsis: the prince has always been a little unconventional, but no one ever expected him to fall in love with a witch.

author’s note: no one asked for this but it came to me in a fever dream and you can really tell bc my writing abilities match that (p.s. i am not knowledgeable on actual witches and witchcraft, and this is not meant to offend anyone! i just winged it and created my own version of a witch for this fic)

It’s way too early for this kind of tomfoolery.

You have your head buried under your pillow, trying to block out the extremely loud and quite irritating rapping on your door. Whoever’s knocking is using so much force that your humble little cottage is trembling with every strike. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and praying that they’ll go away soon. Or at least come back at a more decent time.

It’s so early that the sun has barely peeked over the horizon, and the birds haven’t even begun chirping yet. You were up all night making potions to sell to the apothecary, so you’ve only gotten about three hours of sleep.

After letting them knock for a couple minutes longer, you realize that they’re not going to leave any time soon. You feel your temper boil over as you throw the covers off your body. Draping your shawl over your shoulders, you tie your unruly hair back and smooth out your nightgown before stomping over to the door and flinging it open.

“What do you want?” you snap loudly, crossing your arms across your chest.

The man in front of you blinks in surprise, fist still raised to knock again. He’s dashingly handsome, even in his state of shock. His hair looks like spun gold, managing to reflect beautifully even with the lack of sunlight. He has a snow white complexion with full, cherry-red lips.

You can tell by his attire that he’s royalty, or rather, a prince. The Prince. He’s wearing a black blazer embellished with golden brass buttons and detailed embroidery. There are two epaulettes on his shoulders, signifying his high status. He’s wearing a white cloak over it all, and you know from a simple glance that it’s made out of the finest linens in the kingdom.

“Are you the Witch of the Forest?” he finally asks, smiling jovially.

“You need not ask. Unless you’re aware of someone else who lives in the forest,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

He isn’t fazed by your sarcastic remark. “My apologies, my lady. I just wanted to make sure.”

“You should know best of all, Your Highness. Your father was the one who banished me here,” you smirk, tilting your head.

One of the guards standing behind him grips the hilt of his sword. “Why, you insolent—”

“Stand down,” The Prince orders, holding out an arm. The guard does as he’s told, albeit reluctantly.

“So, what brings you here at this godforsaken hour, Your Highness?” you ask, unbothered.

“Please, call me Jungwoo.”

“I’d rather not have my tongue cut off by your mutts,” you snort, nodding toward the guards.

“I insist,” Jungwoo says, shaking his head. “And what is your name?”

“You may call me Y/N,” you begin, eyeing the guards and grinning when you see the pure rage in their eyes. “Jungwoo.”

He’s oblivious to the contention, instead beaming happily. You can’t help but smile at his naiveté. Crossing your arms, you lean against the doorframe. “What can I help you with, Jungwoo?”

His expression turns solemn, and he reaches down to grip your hands between his. “Please help me, Y/N. My mother, the Queen, is severely ill.”

You’re taken aback by his casual touch. You’re so used to people treating you like you’re evil incarnate. Doing your best to control your expression, you clear your throat and try to continue looking elusive.

“You have my condolences, but I don’t see what that has to do with me,” you say, shrugging.

“How dare you!” The annoying guard pipes up again. “She is your queen!”

“No, she is your queen. I am not a subject of your kingdom,” you correct. “Therefore, I have no obligation to help you.”

Jungwoo releases your hands and steps back before lowering himself to his knees in front of you. Both you and the guards stare in stunned silence.

“Please. I am begging you,” he whispers with his head bowed, voice cracking. “I understand that you hate my father. I would too. But please, my mother is innocent in all of this.”

“Your Highness! Please get up immediately!” The guards say in a frenzy, all talking over each other.

He ignores the chaos and continues to stare determinedly at you. There’s something about his unrelenting gaze that makes you feel vulnerable. When was the last time someone looked you directly in the eyes like this? It scares you because it’s been so long, and you feel like he can see right through you.

You break eye contact first, turning away sharply. You grab him by the shoulders and pull him to his feet. Jungwoo also looks surprised when you touch him, but he doesn’t seem repulsed like you expect him to be. In fact, he looks a little crestfallen when your hands fall back to your sides.

“Have some dignity,” you chide, “how can a prince kneel before a witch?”

“I am willing to go to any length to save my mother,” he says without hesitation.

You sigh. After all these years and everything you’ve been through, you still can’t seem to harden your heart to situations like these. You can already hear your fellow witches taunting you in your head. They would never let you hear the end of it if they found out you were going to save the life of the wife of the man who exiled you.

Jungwoo picks up on your hesitancy, grasping your hand again. “Please.”

The desperation and panic in his voice shatters the remainder of fight you have left in you.

“Alright,” you finally relent, “I will help you.”

Now it’s his turn to be shocked. “R-Really?”

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for handsome men,” you say, patting his cheek. “Stop looking so surprised. Aren’t you the one who be—”

You can barely contain your surprised yelp when Jungwoo wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you around in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaims as he sets you back down.

You’re so frazzled that all you can do is nod. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. You thought you were going to fluster him by calling him handsome and touching his face, but he somehow managed to fluster you instead.

“We’ll give you some time to get changed and prepare what you need,” Jungwoo continues, completely unaware. “My carriage is right over there, so you will know where to go when you’re done.”

You stupidly nod again, stiffly shutting your door. Your face feels like it’ll set on fire at any moment. Just how deprived of touch are you for your body to react like this over a simple hug?

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself, don’t forget who he is.

The carriage ride is horrendously suffocating. The Annoying Guard, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, insists on riding with the two of you to ensure Jungwoo’s safety—in case you decide to hex him or something. The guard keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword the entire time, glaring daggers at you. Every time you even slightly shift, he jumps.

You’re starting to think that these palace guards are severely overestimating your powers—actually, they aren’t. They’re severely overestimating your ability to care enough to even go through the trouble of hexing Jungwoo.

Jungwoo keeps shooting you apologetic glances, attempting in vain to try and make conversation. The long stretches of silence are deafening, and all you can do is stare out of the window. Your mind keeps wandering to things you don’t want to think about, so you begin to map out all the chores you have to do when you return to your cottage.

You can feel Jungwoo’s stare on you the entire time. He clearly wants to talk to you, but he can’t because of the hawk-like watch of the Annoying Guard. You suppose you’re grateful for that. You’re not really sure if you want to converse with Jungwoo. He’s far too unpredictable for your comfort. You can’t read him like the others, and that intimidates you. He isn’t afraid of you, and it makes you feel...exposed.

Fortunately, you can see the palace from the window, which means this hell of a ride is finally over.

Unfortunately, when you step out of the carriage, the memories that you’ve spent your entire life trying to bury flood through your mind.

The last time you were at the palace was when the decree of your banishment was announced. You remember the palace guards dragging you and your mother out as she pleaded for mercy. She had asked the king to spare you. Of course, he merely scoffed at her and turned away without a second glance. To him, you two were just some of the many witches that he would go on to banish or simply just execute. He was lucky that the witches were a peaceful kind.

You watched as your mother pretended like everything was alright, like she was alright, as the two of you lived in that tiny cottage she managed to build with what little powers she had left. In return, you pretended that you didn’t hear her weep every night. Eventually, she simply just wilted away—a shell of the beautiful flower she once was.

“Oh, my poor child,” she had said with her final breath.

You dig your nails into your palm, hoping the pain will pull you out of the spiral you’re starting to go down. In an attempt to distract yourself, you try to focus on what’s in front of you. However, it’s not something you want to see.

The palace is, without a doubt, the most beautiful piece of architecture you’ve ever seen. Made out of pure ivory marble and adorned with ornate detailing that’s crafted from the most opulent of gold, it’s stunning in every way.

But it makes you sick to your stomach.

This was a mistake. You can’t even look at the palace. What makes you think that you can go in there and face the King? You’re still a weak little girl, and you always will be. Mother would be so ashamed of what a coward you’ve become.

Your inner voice continues to berate you, and you feel like you’ll vomit at any moment.

“Hey,” Jungwoo says gently. His naturally soft-spoken voice can’t be any louder than a whisper, yet it’s powerful enough to pierce through the myriad of unwanted thoughts going through your head.

He pries your hand open, running his thumb across the red, crescent-shaped indents in your palm. You don’t realize how hard you’ve been pressing your nails into your skin until you feel the stinging. Jungwoo’s hand is warm, and it manages to quell your uneasiness significantly.

“You’re alright,” he tells you, lacing his fingers through yours.

It unnerves you how easily he calms you down. It terrifies you to your very core how much power he seemingly has over your emotions. Jungwoo is an enigma, and you must stay far, far away. Everything about him screams trouble.

Pulling your hand away, you grip your skirt instead and take a small step back. He looks, dare you say, hurt by the way you recoil. Nonetheless, he doesn’t acknowledge it and simply clears his throat.

“My father is waiting for us,” Jungwoo says warily.

You tense, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“He isn’t thrilled about your presence, but I swear on my life that he will not harm you,” Jungwoo promises. “I will protect you, no matter what.”

“No,” you interject, “there’s no need. Your father will not lay a finger on me. He has always feared my mother and I, which is why he banished us.”

“You’re trembling, Y/N,” he whispers.

“It doesn’t matter,” you snap, “I have a duty to fulfill, and so I will. My personal feelings will be put aside, just as your father should be doing as well.”

You hate how he looks at you like he understands. Like he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Like he can see into the deepest, most hidden parts of you.

“Very well,” he sighs.

Jungwoo holds out his arm for you to hold. Inhaling deeply, you square your shoulders and straighten your back before taking it. You wore the fanciest dress you owned and made sure your hair was styled to the best of your ability for today. You want to show the King that you are doing just fine, that you still stand strong despite everything he did to you.

The doors to the throne room open, and the two of you are welcomed with a trumpet call that announces the arrival of the Prince. The King is waiting for you, sitting tall on his throne. Despite his commendable posture, his body is weak and feeble. He’s been worn down by age, and his robes hang off of him like they would a skeleton.

“Your Majesty,” Jungwoo greets, bowing.

You don’t follow suit, crossing your arms instead. The King doesn’t even glance at his son, focusing his beady stare at you. You glare back defiantly.

“You’ve gotten old,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

“It seems even vermin like you can survive after all this time,” the King responds gruffly.

“I could say the same for you,” you shoot back.

“You will heal my wife,” he orders, ignoring your insult. “Or else I will make sure you join your mother in Hell.”

The mention of your mother flares up your temper immediately. Clenching your fists, you begin to consider hexing him (maybe Jungwoo’s guards were onto something). You have never really used your powers out of malice, but you’re starting to think it may not be such a bad idea.

“Father,” Jungwoo warns.

“Your words are merely making me want to do the exact opposite, Your Majesty. You should thank every star in the sky that I have already given your son my word,” you say calmly, even though you’re anything but.

“Foolish boy,” the King spits. He says it with so much anger and hatred in his voice that it’s hard to tell that he’s speaking to his own son. “Why do you insist on defying me? Now, you’ve gone and made a deal with a witch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you sigh, “there was no deal.”

“You expect me to believe your lies? You could have easily tricked him into signing away his soul,” the King accuses.

You can’t help but laugh at his absurd claims, shaking your head. “Enough of this. We are simply wasting time.”

You turn to Jungwoo so you can tell him to lead you to his mother, but you’re surprised by the look on his face. His expression is stormy—a mix of anger, guilt, and shame. He’s biting down on his lip so hard that you’re sure that he will draw blood. His fists are tightly balled up by his sides as he stares down at his feet.

It’s clear how much Jungwoo is despises his father, but it’s also obvious how terrified he is of his own bloodline. The same blood that courses through the King also runs through Jungwoo’s veins.

Without thinking, you reach forward and slip your hand into his. He looks up at you with wide eyes, but he no longer seems as upset as he did before. You smile at him, giving his hand a small, comforting squeeze.

“Come on,” you say quietly, “let’s go see your mother.”

Jungwoo nods and grips your hand tightly before the two of you leave the throne room, not sparing the King another glance. You can feel his beady stare follow you as you exit, but you pay him no mind. Jungwoo continues to hold your hand as he leads you down the palace halls, and for some strange reason, you don’t feel the need to pull away.

When you arrive at the Queen’s chamber, only then does Jungwoo let go of your hand. He’s by his mother’s side in an instant, taking a knee by her bedside. You trail behind him, gingerly taking a step closer.

The Queen is a beautiful woman, even when she’s asleep. Her arms are folded across her stomach, and her hair is spilled across her silk pillow. She looks like she just came out of a storybook. However, her beauty is marred by the gray pallor of her skin. Beads of sweat dot her hairline, and her face is fixed in a grimace.

You frown. The grayness of her skin is not natural for a human, and you can sense a strange, familiar, energy flowing from within her.

“It seems your mother has been afflicted by a witch,” you say, examining her state carefully.

“What? How is that possible?” Jungwoo whirls around to face you.

“Either someone in her entourage is a witch or they are simply practicing witchcraft,” you explain, placing the back of your hand on the Queen’s forehead. Her skin is cool to the touch, despite sweating, which concerns you ever further.

Jungwoo still looks like he doesn’t really understand, but he doesn’t linger on the topic. “Will she be alright?”

“Yes,” you reassure him, “it’s a simple spell. I just need to make an antidote.”

“What do you need? I’ll have the maids gather them immediately,” he says, hurriedly standing to his feet.

“That will not be necessary. All the ingredients I need are at my cottage,” you say, already halfway out of the Queen’s chambers, “However, I will ask that you lend me a horse so I can go back and fetch them quickly.”

“I’ll go with you,” he offers, following behind you.

“Afraid that I’ll run off, Your Highness?” you ask, stopping in the middle of the hall and raising an eyebrow. He skids to a halt when you turn to look at him, nearly running into you.

“Jungwoo,” he corrects, “and no. I’m afraid you might run into trouble along the way.”

“You have my gratitude for your concern. However, I am certain that I will be able to handle it,” you respond curtly.

Jungwoo sighs, looking down and smiling to himself. You watch him deadpan before glancing back up at you. “Can’t you leave me just a shred of my dignity?”

“Pardon?”

He takes a step closer to you, leaning his head down so he can meet your eyes. You suck in a breath through your nose sharply, only able to match his gaze for a second before having to avert your eyes. His stare is stronger than any magic or spell, and you are no match for it.

“How many times are you going to make me beg?” Jungwoo asks softly, tilting his head.

“I—I don’t understand,” you stammer, focusing your gaze on the tip of his nose.

“I am quite aware you can handle it. I want to go with you because I would like to spend time with you,” he says, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

“O-Oh,” you say, dumbfounded.

From the short amount of time you’ve known him, Jungwoo has always been extremely forward in everything he approaches. But, surely, this is too forward.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asks, smirking.

“Doing what?”

“Acting oblivious so I will embarrass myself.”

“No, I—”

“I am only joking, Y/N,” Jungwoo says, laughing.

You blink, staring at him in a daze, before you finally realize that he’s just been teasing you this entire time. Huffing loudly, you whirl around on your heel and begin walking again. Jungwoo easily keeps up with you because of his long strides, no matter how much you quicken your pace.

“Don’t be angry,” he tells you, barely able to hide his grin.

“I have been meaning to say this, but you are much cleverer than you make yourself out to be,” you say in an accusatory tone, glaring at him. “And judging by your behavior now, it seems to be intentional.”

“Is that a bad thing, my lady?”

“Of course it is. It means you’re dangerous,” you snap.

“Then, that would mean you would have to pay more attention to me,” Jungwoo replies smoothly.

You give him a look of disbelief, wondering where the endearing man who had knocked on your door this morning went.

“Come. I’ll show you to the stables,” he says cheerfully.

“I don’t recall saying that I wanted you to go with me,” you remind him.

“Hmm?” he hums, pretending not to hear you.

Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh a little yourself. It’s difficult not to get swept up in the phenomenon that is Prince Jungwoo. If you were smart, you would put an end to whatever was forming between the two of you. He is simply intrigued by you and wants to joke around, nothing more. Even if it is something romantic, the two of you could never be together. It’s better to draw a line before personal feelings become involved, especially on your end.

It would be so easy to let yourself fall in love with Jungwoo. So easy to let him tear down the walls surrounding your heart. So easy to let yourself need his presence, to crave his touch. So easy to let yourself be happy, even if it’s brief.

But it would be so easy for Jungwoo to destroy you, to trample all over you—and you’re not sure if you could withstand it.

For now, you try not to think about it.

“Have you ridden a horse before?”

You shake your head. “I don’t travel distances in which I will need a horse.”

“And you were planning on going alone, despite having no experience on horseback?” Jungwoo asks, raising an eyebrow.

“How difficult can it be?” you shrug.

He laughs; a bright, clear laugh that sounds like a bell. You’re so mesmerized by it that you almost don’t notice him step closer and place his hands on your waist. You look at him with bewilderment, and he simply smiles at you.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Jungwoo chirps. Without warning, he lifts you up and sets you onto the saddle of his horse as if you’re some sort of child. His hands linger on your waist just for a moment before he pulls them back.

You let out an embarrassing squeak, automatically gripping his shoulders for support. Once you stabilize yourself, you reflexively hit him in the chest before realizing that you just punched the Prince. Luckily, he doesn’t seem that hurt or angry. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

Jungwoo is grinning so hard that the corners of his eyes have crinkled. He’s looks at you as if you’re the warm breeze during spring, sunshine on a beautiful day, a flower in full bloom—like you’re something wonderful.

“Do not ever do that again,” you warn. You mean to sound authoritative, but your voice teeters between octaves and it comes out as more of a question than a command. You feel like your heart is doing somersaults.

Jungwoo just smiles again and climbs up, situating himself behind you. His arms encase you as he reaches around to grip the reins of the horse. Your back is pressed up against him, and you’re glad you’re turned away from him so he can’t see the bright flush on your cheeks.

“Must we ride together?” you grumble.

“While I admire your confidence, I do not think it would be safe for you to ride on your own,” he explains. He flicks the reins, and the horse begins to trot at an extremely brisk pace.

“You are underestimating me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady.”

“Now you’re being patronizing.”

Jungwoo laughs, and you feel it rustle your hair. Is he really that close to you? What if your hair smells bad? You had washed it with your favorite lavender soap yesterday, but what if—

“I apologize, Y/N. That was not my intention. Once my mother recovers, you are more than welcome to return to the palace, so you can ride a horse by yourself under much safer parameters,” he suggests.

You pause. That sounds like an invitation, and you know that can’t be right. Surely, Jungwoo is not crazy enough to ask you to come back. Right?

You have a sinking feeling that he is genuinely is that crazy, but you won’t allow yourself to even entertain the idea.

Unable to think of a response, you simply keep your mouth shut. The two of you ride in silence for a long stretch of time, but it’s not as awkward as you expect it to be. There’s something about being with Jungwoo that feels natural, comfortable.

“So,” you finally say, “how are you going to find the person who hurt your mother?”

Jungwoo’s face darkens and his expression turns solemn. You suddenly feel guilty. “Truthfully, I haven’t even thought about that yet. I want to make sure that my mother is going to be alright before I worry about anything else.”

“Replace everyone that is close to her, unless you know they are truly trustworthy,” you advise. “Whoever it is has managed to hide their tracks all this time, so you cannot risk it.”

He nods. “Thank you again for helping me once again. I know it was difficult because of my father—”

A loud clap of thunder makes you and Jungwoo jolt, and it’s like a dam in the sky has been opened. Instead of its normal blue, the sky has become a dark, ominous gray in a matter of seconds. The wind howls and the rain comes down with the force of an angry god. Within seconds, the two of you are soaked to the bone. The raindrops feel like you’re being pelted by small, freezing shards of glass.

Jungwoo shifts behind you before you feel the thick material of his cloak drape around your shoulders. He pulls the hood over your head and shields you from the rain with his body.

“Take your cloak back,” you holler over the wind, twisting your body so you can see him. “you’ll get sick!”

You don’t realize how close his face is to your own until he’s right there. Mere inches separate the two of you. You can see the raindrops in his eyelashes and the beads of water on his lips. How could someone look this beautiful in the middle of a thunderstorm?

He smiles softly at you, tugging the hood over your eyes before turning you back around so you can face forward. “I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

Jungwoo only slightly raises his voice, yet his words cut through the chaos. His calm demeanor and the way he’s cradling you against him makes you feel warm and safe. Like you have always belonged in his arms.

“We’re here,” he announces after a few minutes, breathing a sigh of relief. You see your cottage just up a little bit further. “Luckily, we were already close.”

After you arrive, he swings his leg over the horse and climbs down with grace. He holds his arms out to help you, and for once, you let him without any resistance. After finding shelter for his horse, the two of you dash into your cottage. Once you’re inside, you immediately begin to toss wood into your fireplace. With a snap of your fingers, you get a fire started instantly.

You both stand there in silence for a moment, watching the flames crackle as you shiver. However, you’re quickly snapped out of your haze when Jungwoo sneezes. You grab the quilt from your bed and swaddle him in it.

“Sit in front of the fire until you’re warmed up,” you order before going to your bathroom to retrieve some towels.

When you come back, you take a seat beside Jungwoo. Your soaked, ten-pounds-heavier dress, makes a gross squelch as you do. Cringing at the sound, you rise to your knees and begin to dry his hair.

“Don’t worry about me,” he protests, “dry yourself off first.”

“If something happens to you, your father will lop my head off,” you reply. “So, I will most certainly be worrying—”

One his hands reaches up to gently grasp your wrist, and all of your words die inside your throat. His fingertips are cold, yet your entire body feels so hot. He cranes his neck so that he can look up at you. You can see the reflection of the fire in his eyes, literally drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

“Really, Y/N. I’m alright,” he whispers, gaze transfixed on your lips.

You swallow. “I—”

Jungwoo slightly tugs you forward, tilting his head up even further and parting his lips as if he’s going to kiss you. You let out a small gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.

But nothing happens.

You crack open one eye. He releases your wrist and turns away, clearing his throat. His ears are red, and you can see that his cheeks are flushed too. You’re surprised, having never seen him lose his composure like this before.

“Here,” Jungwoo says hoarsely, removing the quilt from around him and handing it to you. “I am plenty warm.”

He takes the towel and begins drying his hair on his own. You stare dumbfoundedly at him with the quilt in your hand. You are certain that he was going to kiss you, so why didn’t he? The confident and headstrong Jungwoo losing his nerve? Impossible.

What’s even worse is that you closed your eyes. You expected it. You wanted it.

The two of you fall quiet, both staring at the fire once again. You can’t tell if the heat on your face is coming from the fire or from within yourself.

“So, you’ve spent almost your entire life in this cottage?” Jungwoo finally asks, turning to look at you.

“Yes,” you simply say as you take another towel and begin drying yourself off. You don’t meet his eye. Frankly speaking, you’re not sure if you can look at him right now without feeling like your heart will burst.

“Do you ever leave? Say, travel for the holidays?”

You laugh. “And where would I go?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I sometimes go to the neighboring town to buy supplies,” you continue. “Though I have to hide my face so the villagers don’t know who I am. Why do you ask?”

“You mentioned before that you don’t go distances in which you’ll need a horse, and that led me to believe that you must not stray far from your cottage,” he answers.

Jungwoo has the same expression on his face that he had when the two of you were in the throne room with the King. There’s a deep crease between his brows, and he’s biting his quivering lip. He looks down at his hands, the towel on his head slipping off and landing on the floor with a pitiful thump. His broad shoulders are drooped, which makes him look smaller.

“Why do you seem so forlorn, Jungwoo?” you ask, carding a hand through his wet hair so you can see him more clearly.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” he says, voice cracking. “My father was the one who drove your mother to death and ruined your life. You’ve been trapped here for the past decade, and it’s all because of us.”

“Jungwoo—”

“I swear to you that your banishment will be lifted,” he promises, placing his hand over your hand that is still in his hair. “I will ascend the throne in a month, and I won’t let you rot away in this cottage. You should be able to see the world. To be free. I—I will not be like my father.”

His words sound more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you, and you finally understand.

“Going against your father, seeking my help, bringing me to the palace—all of it. Was it because you wanted to differentiate yourself from the King? To prove to yourself that you aren’t following in your father’s footsteps?” you ask quietly.

Jungwoo looks at you with wide eyes. You can see tears glistening in them, and you know you’re right. Sighing, your other hand comes up to rest on his cheek. You lean in, unabashedly staring him in the eyes for the first time since you’ve met him.

“You are not your father. I, of all people, should know best. There is no need to take such drastic measures to convince yourself of it. Just be yourself, Jungwoo. You will be a kind and benevolent king,” you assure him.

“How are you so sure?” he whispers. His voice trembles. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’re selfless and compassionate, even to someone like me,” you answer immediately. “You chose to throw away personal bias and even your own dignity to beg for my help. You are willing to do whatever it takes to help the people you care about. You have more kindness in the tip of your pinky finger than your father has had in his entire lifetime. Your subjects will revere you when you become king.”

Jungwoo is quiet, but you can tell that you’ve hit a chord with him. There’s no longer fear and pain in his expression, but rather, hope. He is still firmly holding your hand to his hair, as if it’s his lifeline. You gently slip your hand out of his grip so you can cup his face with both your hands, lightly pinching his cheeks.

“However, refrain from knocking on witches’ doors willy-nilly from now on. Not many witches are as generous and willing to help like I am. Like your father said, you could very well be tricked into signing your soul away with some,” you warn.

“Signing my soul away to you doesn’t seem so terrible,” Jungwoo muses.

“You must be feeling better if you’re able to make your ridiculous jokes,” you sigh, beginning to pull your hands away.

He catches one of your hands, placing it on his chest and over his heart. You can feel its steady rhythm, versus your own erratic one. You wonder if he’s aware of how effortlessly he’s able to fluster you.

“I’m glad it was you who answered the door, Y/N,” Jungwoo says sincerely. “Truly.”

There he goes again—smiling at you sweetly, as if honey is dripping from his eyes. He gazes at you like you’re his dream, the only thing he wants. It’s almost as if he’s fallen in love with you.

And then the reality of it all crashes down on you.

You yank your hand away from him, scrambling up to your feet. Jungwoo looks up at you with a mix of surprise and concern on his face.

“You’re smitten with me!” you exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him. You may have lived most of your life in isolation, but even you can see it now.

“Are you only just now noticing that? I thought I was being quite obvious.” He raises an eyebrow, standing up as well.

“Stop being smitten with me this instant!” you order vehemently.

“If it were only that simple. Besides, I don’t want to,” he replies breezily.

“No, no, no. This cannot happen,” you mutter, beginning to pace.

“Why not?” he asks as he watches you go back and forth.

“We can’t,” you insist.

“Says who?” he shoots back.

“Everyone! Can’t you see? You are the soon-to-be-King, and I am a witch. The witch your father banished. Think about the debacle that would take place if we became lov—er, involved with each other. Your reputation will be ruined,” you explain, frustrated that he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, except for you.” Jungwoo states.

“Don’t you wish to have any respect from your subjects and allies?” you hiss.

“None of that matters. What do you feel, Y/N?”

“It—it doesn’t matter what I feel,” you say, turning away. “We can never be together anyway.”

He stares at you, long and hard. “You’re afraid.”

“No, I’m realistic.”

“You’re using the fact that you’re a witch as a shield. You don’t allow yourself to feel anything simply because others see you as lesser, and you believe them. You’ve become comfortable like this, blockading off any sort of emotion and using the fear that others have of you as a buffer so you won’t get hurt. Your heart is trapped, just like you are inside this cottage. You’re afraid that if you leave, you might genuinely feel something,” Jungwoo continues, “—No, you’re afraid because you’re already starting to.”

He’s right, of course. Somehow, he’s always right when it comes to you. It’s so easy for him to unravel the feelings you’ve been suppressing. From the moment he laid eyes on you, Jungwoo has always been looking at you. Not the Witch of the Forest, not the fearsome creature that his father banished, not a tool that solely exists to achieve what he needs, but you. He’s found the real you, no matter how hard you try to hide.

But it doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“You talk as if you know everything about me,” you snap, “In reality, we’re nothing but strangers. The heart is a fickle thing, Jungwoo. You may think you’re in love with me today, but what about three days from now? A month? A year? You will be able throw me away without a second thought, but what will be left of me? I don’t have the luxury to act impulsively on my feelings like you. I only have myself, and I can’t afford to be hurt.”

“Do you truly think so lowly of me, Y/N? I would never hurt you,” he promises.

“You cannot predict the future,” you say quietly.

“Exactly! Are you going to live based off sheer possibilities alone?”

You don’t respond.

“What will you do then? Force yourself to never feel anything for anyone and stay in this cottage for the rest of your life?” Jungwoo asks.

“And what if I do?” you retort.

“You may have magic, but no enchantment can overpower your heart,” he says, shaking his head. “It is indeed be fickle at times, but you’ll be surprised to see how resolute and painful it can be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say again.

Jungwoo takes a minuscule step closer, gently putting his hands on your arms. He touches you as if you’re made of glass, a pained expression his face. “It does matter. Why do you keep dismissing your feelings like this? Why must you insist on hurting yourself?”

“Because it hurts one hundred times less if I do it, rather than someone else,” you whisper.

A tear falls from your left eye, and Jungwoo’s thumb swipes it away. His hands dwarf your face as they come up to cradle it. He holds your face like your eyes are made up of diamonds and your lips rubies. Pulling you close, his arms envelop your shoulders and your face is buried in his chest. Both of your clothes are still wet, yet it feels like you’ve been embraced by a ray of sunshine.

Your hands remain by your side as Jungwoo hugs you tightly. You’re to afraid to move, fearing that you’ll shatter the moment. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember this moment in perfect detail. You tell yourself that this, too, is fleeting.

“You are strong, Y/N. Stronger than any person I’ve ever known,” he mutters against the crown of your head, “but it’s okay now. You are no longer alone. Let yourself cry, get angry, be happy. There’s no need to bottle it up any longer.”

You feel yourself let out a sob, a sob that racks through your entire body. Trembling violently, your hands slowly reach up to place themselves on his back, curling your fists tightly into the fabric of his shirt. Hot tears flow freely from your eyes as you press your face farther into his chest.

You hate yourself for succumbing to your emotions, and you hate yourself even more for doing it in front of Jungwoo. However, it also makes you feel liberated. Jungwoo’s arms are a safe haven, and it makes you want to forget everything and run away with him. It makes you want to be reckless and impulsive, just like him.

“—Your Highness!”

The door to your cottage is suddenly kicked down, and a swarm of palace guards barge in, with the Annoying Guard leading the pack. You try to pull away from Jungwoo, but he holds onto you tighter before moving you behind him. His arm is protectively in front of you, as he shields you with his body once again.

“What have you done to him, witch?” the Annoying Guard demands, pointing his sword at you.

“Nothing,” Jungwoo responds, glaring at him. “What on Earth are you doing? Stand down.”

“You’ve cast a dark spell on the Prince!”

“She has not! I will say it one more time, stand down,” Jungwoo orders.

Seeing Jungwoo’s expression, the Annoying Guard slowly sheathes his sword. “Y-Your Highness? Is it really you?”

“Who else would it be?” Jungwoo huffs with annoyance.

“Why are you protecting the witch?”

“Because you’re trespassing and also threatening her. Why did you come anyway?” Jungwoo asks, gritting his teeth.

“His Majesty told us to make sure you were alright, since it’s storming,” the Annoying Guard ducks his head meekly. “We have a carriage for you.”

Jungwoo tells them all to get out before turning to check on you. By this point, you’ve already collected yourself. You’ve wiped away your tears and regained your composure. You look back at him coolly, refusing to let yourself break down like that again.

“Y/N—”

“Wait for me outside. I just need a second to collect all of the ingredients for the antidote, and then I will be out shortly,” you say curtly.

He looks like he wants to argue at first but obediently retreats a moment later. When he’s out of an earshot, you harshly slap your cheeks. The stinging rings through your entire body, like a wake up call from the gods themselves. You had let yourself pretend for a moment when Jungwoo hugged you, but the cold, sobering truth of it all is more apparent than ever.

If Jungwoo were to truly stay with you, his sanity would be questioned by his peers at every moment. Eventually, he too would begin to wonder if his feelings were conjured by your magic. The happiness the two of you would have will only last for a moment, and you can’t allow yourself to have a taste of it.

Because you know you won’t be able to walk away from him.

The carriage ride back is just as awful as the first time, perhaps even more so. The cloak that Jungwoo lent you has been snatched away by the Annoying Guard, so you’re left to shiver in your half-wet dress. Jungwoo is being swathed in towels and even provided a thick jacket, but all you get is a rag that looks like it’s been used to wipe the floor. Jungwoo tries to give you his jacket, but you ignore him and keep your gaze trained on the window.

When you arrive at the palace, the two of you are immediately ushered up to the Queen’s chambers by a frantic maid. Her condition worsened during the storm, and you can feel her life force fading. The King is there too, but he doesn’t say a word. His lips are in a thin line and his face is somber. You can see in his eyes that he’s pleading with you to save his wife.

You manage to whip up the antidote in record time, carefully pouring it into the Queen’s mouth with a spoon. Within minutes, the color returns to her face and her breathing becomes normal. You place a hand on her forehead, breathing a sigh of relief when you feel warmth return to her skin.

The Queen’s eyes begin to flutter, and you quickly withdraw your hand. You turn to Jungwoo. “She should be alright now. Let her recuperate for a couple of days just to make sure.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, Y/N. I—”

“Jungwoo?” The Queen’s feeble voice whispers. She’s slowly coming to, blindly reaching out for her son. The King perks up too, but he doesn’t move towards her.

“Mother,” he responds immediately, “I’m here.”

You watch him kneel by her bedside, taking her hand. They speak to each other in hushed tones, and you realize that Jungwoo must get his soft-spoken voice from his mother. The tenderness between them warms your heart, but it also wrenches it because it’s even more proof that you don’t belong here.

Taking advantage of the fact that Jungwoo is distracted, you easily manage to slip out of the room. It doesn’t occur to you until you walk out of the palace and pass by the stables that you don’t have any means of transportation. There’s no way any palace guard will agree to take you back by carriage, and you can’t just borrow a horse because you will have to return it.

You’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice a maid walking toward you and crash right into her. She’s carrying a bale of hay and it goes flying, straws of hay exploding into the air. You stagger backwards, trying to avoid it. The maid lets out a squeal and falls onto her rear pretty hard.

“I’m so sorry,” you say hurriedly, stretching out your hand to help her up. “I was distracted and did not see you.”

“It’s alright, I did not see you either,” the maid winces, grabbing your hand and letting you pull her to her feet. “I will sweep this up in a moment. I apologize for the mess, my lady.”

Her words are lost to you. Instead, you’re focused on the immense amount of magic you felt flowing through her when she touched your hand. It’s the strongest magic you’ve felt in a very long time.

“So it was you,” you realize, narrowing your eyes. “Hiding in plain sight.”

The maid blinks before her lips curl into an evil smirk. “Well, well, you’ve finally caught me. Honestly, I’m disappointed. I thought you’d find me much sooner. Surely, finding a measly witch like me should have been child’s play for the Witch of the Forest.”

“I’ve been preoccupied,” you answer, gritting your teeth. “What is your name?”

“Joohyun,” she says. Joohyun flicks her wrist, and the hay is suddenly rearranged into the perfect block it was before. “Are you going to tell Prince Jungwoo, my lady?”

“I will not betray one of my kind so easily. However, I want to know why you chose to harm the Queen.”

“That old geezer, the King, really loves her. Even though he doesn’t act like it. I figured the only way to truly make him suffer the way he made us is to target his family,” Joohyun says breezily, shrugging.

“The Queen and Prince Jungwoo are innocent in all of this. Do not drag them into our affairs,” you chastise, though you understand where she is coming from.

Joohyun raises an eyebrow before she smiles knowingly. “I had been curious as to why you agreed to help the Queen, but I see now. You’re fond of Prince Jungwoo.”

Were you that easy to read?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snap.

“Whatever you say,” Joohyun replies nonchalantly, a glint in her eye. “Then, I suppose you won’t mind if Prince Jungwoo is my next target?”

You scowl, your eyes flashing dangerously at her. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not, my lady,” she backs down. She still has a smirk on her face, but you can tell she’s nervous now. “It was a joke.”

“It would do you well to watch your tongue. I am warning you now to not lay a finger on the King’s family. Incurring my anger will make you wish that I had turned you over to the Prince,” you say calmly.

“I apologize, my lady.” Joohyun bows her head.

“Go,” you order.

She obediently picks up the bale of hay before scurrying off. You watch her disappear behind the palace doors, releasing the breath you had been holding. You know Joohyun will tread more carefully now, which is a solace to you only slightly. A part of you wants to run back inside and immediately tell Jungwoo, but you force yourself to turn on your heel and begin walking away.

The two of us have nothing to do with each other now, you tell yourself.

As if on cue, you hear a distant voice calling out to you.

“Y/N!”

You know who it is, and you know you should keep walking. But your feet drag to an eventual stop, refusing to listen to your brain. Stiffly, you turn.

Jungwoo is running up to you, bridging the gap between you and the palace easily. When he’s in front of you, he reaches down and grabs the sleeve of your dress with two fingers, as if he’s afraid you’ll run away. For now, you allow him to.

“If you’re leaving, I’ll escort you,” he says, slightly breathless.

“No,” you respond, “I will walk.”

“Y/N—”

“This is not up for negotiation, Your Highness,” you cut him off, harshly tugging your sleeve away. “I did what you requested, so our business is finished. Therefore, there is no need to involve ourselves with each other anymore.”

You can tell you’re hurting him. Jungwoo takes a step closer, and you take one back. His outstretched hand falls limply at his sides. His eyes have lost their usual mischievous sparkle, flickering like a dying ember. You feel like there’s a knife being twisted into your side. How did you manage to connect so deeply to him that you can’t stand to see him upset, despite only meeting him today?

“In two weeks time,” he starts quietly, “my coronation ball will be held. Would you accompany me?”

You let out a small laugh. Even though you’re trying your hardest to hurt him, Jungwoo remains persistent like he always is.

“You know that I will not,” you say, shaking your head. “Ask someone else.”

“I want to go with you.”

You sigh, and against your better judgement, you place a hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, clutching your wrist. “You will forget about me soon enough, Your Highness.”

“I won’t.”

“Once you’re king, I’ll be nothing more than a bad dream,” you continue. “Don’t let a temporary feeling ruin your future.”

“Why do you keep discounting the way I feel?” he asks furiously. “You keep saying that I’ll throw you away, hurt you, forget about you—it’s cruel, Y/N.”

“It’s the truth, Your Highness. You’ll see.”

“Jungwoo,” he finally corrects again, frustrated. “Please, call me Jungwoo.”

“Joohyun,” you suddenly blurt out, ignoring him. You couldn’t help yourself. If you are truly never going to see him again, you had to tell him.

“What?”

“The maid,” you clarify. “She’s the one who cursed your mother.”

“I—thank you,” he says dumbfoundedly, confused at the sudden change in topic.

“Don’t punish her too harshly,” you request.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were in her position,” you answer honestly.

He doesn’t respond, looking at you with a wistful expression. The two of you fall into a brief moment of silence, staring into each other’s eyes. You don’t have as much trouble holding his gaze anymore, but it still makes your mind go blank. Your eyes travel over every inch of his face, committing it to your memory. You wish you could remember the sensation of his skin against your fingertips.

“Stay,” he pleads.

The hand on his face travels to the back of his neck, so you can bring him down to your level. You step on your tip-toes, placing a feather-light kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his.

“Goodbye, Jungwoo.”

And so, the two weeks pass in what seems like a matter of seconds.

You’ve managed to somewhat return to your routine, but all of your efforts are shattered when the night of Jungwoo’s coronation ball arrives. During the day, you had been aimlessly pacing around in your cottage and doing the same chores over and over again. It was like you were in a trance.

Now, you’re laying in bed—wide awake. You kick the covers off, suddenly feeling extremely hot, before tossing and turning in an attempt to tire yourself out. It is useless; your mind always seems to come back to him.

You wonder if he’ll meet a beautiful princess from a neighboring country at the ball and instantly fall in love with her. The two of them would be perfect for each other. They would be the subject of envy throughout the kingdom. Their reign would be a prosperous one, and they would bear such lovely children. Jungwoo would be so happy, and that hurts you so more than you would like to admit. You know you’re being selfish now, but you—

You nearly scream when you hear a frantic knocking on your door. Instantly sitting up, you listen to the knocking for a little longer. Your heart is racing, and you can’t fight the hope building up in your chest. Getting out of your bed, you slowly approach your door and crack it open.

Jungwoo is standing there, in full royal regalia. He’s panting, shoulders heaving up and down with effort. His collar is popped, and you can see a bead of sweat roll down his neck. His hair is mussed and stuck to his forehead. He’s clutching a piece of paper in one hand.

At first, you think he’s a hallucination but then he speaks.

“By my royal decree, your banishment has officially been lifted,” he declares, still out of breath. He smooths out the crumpled piece of paper and shows it to you. It looks like it was written by a child. There are ink splatters everywhere, the writing is barely legible, and the signature looks like chicken scratch. Most people would not believe it was an official document if it were not for the royal seal stamped at the bottom.

“Wha—”

“You were wrong,” Jungwoo interrupts, “I didn’t forget about you. And trust me, I tried. I tried so damn hard because you were so cruel. You’ve only ever diminished my feelings for you, and you were the one that threw me away when I begged for you to stay. You walked all over my heart like it was your personal doormat, yet I missed you. I wanted to see you again, even if it would hurt. So, I wrote a decree on a piece of parchment paper without consulting or informing any of my advisors and then came to find you during the middle of my coronation ball. And here I am again, pouring my heart out in front of you like a fool—”

You throw yourself at him, and he just barely manages to catch you. His arms are tightly wrapped around you as you grab his collar and crush your lips against his. Jungwoo makes a small noise of surprise before he eventually reciprocates. He kisses you like you’ll disappear at any moment, and he holds you like it too. Even when you pull away, he presses you firmly against him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” you mumble against his lips. “You are much too good for me, Jungwoo. But I selfishly missed you too. So much.”

“If it means you’ll be by my side, hurt me as much you’d like,” Jungwoo says, his fingers entangling themselves in your hair.

The two of you share another kiss under the glow of the moonlight, whispering promises to each other that you know you shouldn’t keep.

Yet, you aren’t afraid anymore.

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #ncitynetwork #neocaratnet #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jungwoo fluff #jungwoo angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #nct u fluff #nct u angst #nct u imagines #jungwoo #nct #choerrypuffs

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redxblueihateloveyou · 4 years ago

Text

Okay, I’m just doing this once, to link it to all the idiots who exist in the future.

Dear Makoto fans (cause I don’t know other Rin haters out there), I’m gonna try to explain it as simple as possible.

If the video is titled “Rin & Haru”, it is most likely surprisingly is about Rin and wait for it, cause you won’t believe it... Haru. So if you hate Rin and you see a video, which title contains “Rin” AND there’s an actual Rin on the thumbnail

maybe (but that’s just me going crazy here)... maybe you shouldn’t look for Makoto there. Cause I don’t believe they look similar.. but I might check my eyes just in case later.

So for all the pals like this one:

(and there was a bunch of others that I’ve muted), if you have two brain cells left, please invite them over for a minute here.

1. It is not my fault that my video reached over half a million views and got into Youtube recommendations. I’m not responsible for no your recommendations, no mine. Youtube recommends me all kind of stuff, including Ikuya vids, for example, cause they’re also related to Free!, doesn’t mean I have to watch them.

Like you won’t believe it, but not only the “I don’t wanna watch this” button exists there, but there is also such a crazy possibilty as to NOT WATCH YOUR NOTP VIDEOS (and YES IT FREAKING EXISTS!). You do it by not clicking on the vid and just, well, you know, not watching it with those two thingies on your face thats called eyes.

Also thanks for being my biggest fan and all, but there’s really no need to go through all of my vids, if you don’t even like this ship. Cause I kinda considered to take it as a compliment for a moment there. But this amount of free time honestly can be used to create your own content that actually includes your otp. Just saying.

2. Breaking news here, but just because Rin makes your ship invalid, doesn’t mean he’s a bad character.

So let’s just all hate him for much more “obvious reasons” like:

- being a great brother:

- being a great son:

- being a great friend:

-being a great boyfriend:

- for working hard to get where he wanted in life and for fighting for his dreams:

I knoooow right? I hate dat perfect bitch, too, but there’s really no need to be agressive about it. You can instead try to do all these beautiful things, too (it’s very hard tho, but believe me it’s really worth it) xD

Like instead of watching a video about Rinharu, whom you hate or scrolling through their tag, try maybe cooking your mom a dinner for once or smth. And I know that to your part of the fandom having life goals is very offensive, but maybe you should try these, too.

Or like maybe watch a 10 minutes Chloe Ting challenge vid and spend few minutes doing this. I mean that’s how I got my sexy abs, after watching Harurin perfect bods xD I mean, all better than bindge watching your notp vids.

3. For tumblr haters. There’s actually such thing as blocking a tag on tumblr. Like “Free!” is a mutual tag, but if you block “Rinharu” tag, you won’t see my post even in the Free! tag. I mean, yeah, tumblr mulfunction sometimes, but in general it works. If the malfunction happens, just scroll past it.

Cause I’m just kinda already reconsidering my respectful non tagging “makoharu” and “makoto” policy (and mind this: I only talk about those when I’m asked), cause what’s even the point, if 90% of your fandom are idiots who search and post in “rinharu” tag anyways and apparently hanging out on my blog a whole fucking lot.

I mean, I’ve been in some ugly fandoms, but I seriously have not yet seen this much disrespect to the other side, who doesn’t even touch you. Like have you not calmed your tits yet? Even in 2020? I’m really asking you to, please, reconsider this and stop embarrassing those two nice people if they’re still there. Because I’m really close to not giving a shit in return.

4. About anonymous death threats. I have a guy, who fixed my computer, who can track those. Most times I really don’t care and just block, but what if one time I’d have lots of free time or get drunk or smth..? Cause he offered once to do it just for fun xD

5. If you want to shit so much that you just can’t help it, shit in YOUR tag. Like we don’t go there, we don’t see it and you can vent if you need it this much.

You do not post Rin hate in his tag. If you do not get it, it’s the tag for his fans. And no, “I hate him, cause I ship MH” is not a character study.

P.S. DM me if you need any help with “how to not go on you NOTP tag”, cause I’m such a genius, I actually know how to do this, too (lmao).

#Free!#anime #rin matsuoka #shipping #otp #rinharu #harurin #free #free! iwatobi swim club #free! road to the world #matsuoka rin

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dameferre · 4 years ago

Note

can we see a snippet from the "penpals!" courferre one :0

of course! i will warn you this will. most likely never see the light of day BUT it’s based off of ‘the year of secret assignments’ by jaclyn moriarty, a... kind of ridiculous book i bought at a charity shop at like. age 10? or something

basically these three sets of teenagers are assigned pen pals at a neighboring school, and hijinks ensue, with one set of penpals giving each other secret assignments (hence the title), the other set of penpals being a girl who writes to a guy who uses a fake name (that plotline ends horribly, it would not have done so in my fic lmao)

one finally one set of penpals (a boy and a girl) decide to start having practice dates, so the guy can hone his skills and ask out a girl he likes, and the girl can critique his form, and... i mean i think we all know how this goes.

anyway, it’s half in letter format, half actual writing the story. here’s a snip! (under the cut because i. couldn’t help myself)

Official Assessment of the Second Meeting By Chance executed by The Lord of Flowers, Combeferre, henceforth referred to as the Subject, as reviewed by Courfeyrac the Ravishing, henceforth referred to as The Operative.

NOTES

When the Operative (and Guest) approached, the Subject smiled very nicely. It was a sort of surprised, warm smile that lit up his face. Did the Subject practice his ‘oh I was hoping to see you and I’m so glad I have’ smile in the mirror?

The Subject did a very good job of consoling the Guest, and as it turns out, the Subject’s height is not as offensive as previously thought, as he holds an umbrella perfectly.

The Subject was much more relaxed this time, and funny, and his hair fluffed a little in the humidity which was adorable. He had a great way of explaining things to the Operative without being patronising, and teased admirably. The Operative spent a good 80% of the walk laughing, but upon writing report can’t remember a specific instance of hilarity. The Subject should have more memorable jokes next time.

Overall, great work Combeferre. You’ll have Feuilly falling over himself to get to you in no time.

Yours,

Courfeyrac the Ravishing

Courfeyrac,

You seem to be losing your touch; that last review lacked the mildly insulting bluntness I’ve grown so accustomed to. Does this mean we’re becoming friends?

Anyway, I’m now, as you would say, ‘balls-deep in tech week’ and halfway through my descent into the deepest pit of hell. The entire production is an original script written by a friend of mine, named Jehan Prouvaire, who decided to rewrite the final scene this weekend. They’re my friend, have been for years, but even I wanted to murder them slowly. The cast is hard at work trying to learn the scene, while I had to stay late last night redoing all the cues.

The worst part of it is, the new ending is fucking fantastic, so we can’t even stay mad at them.

It’s exhausting. Literally exhausting; I got three hours of sleep last night.

Anyway, I’m writing this as a way of avoiding calculus homework. Not that I wouldn’t write to you if I didn’t have calculus homework, but it is harder to just ramble on about my life now that we’ve met in person. I don’t think I ever would have told you about Feuilly if we had met before we started writing. There was something in the anonymity that made it easier, like writing into a diary. I hope you don’t take this as an insult- what I mean to say is that now that I know you, I want you to like me. And by extension, I want you to know a lot less about exactly how lame I am.

Anyway, I wanted to say I won’t be able to make a meeting by chance this week, though I know telling you that ruins some of the fun. If I’m around next week, which is really looking less and less likely every time an actor misplaces a prop or mic pack and I am forced, once again, to weigh the pros and cons of murder, I’d be happy to accidentally run into you on my way home from school.

Side note- Avi(my brother) comes home next week, which lines up nicely with Mom’s birthday and means he’ll be able to see the show. It’ll be nice to have him back. I think you’d like him; he’s the attractive one in the family, and the extrovert. He’s also a mechanical engineer who medal-ed in track when he was my age. Basically, he got all the good genes, but he’s too nice to admit it.

Anyway, calculus beckons.

See you on the other side, Combeferre

p.s. Only you would practice a smile. Mine was genuine, I swear.

My Dearest Combeferre,

FIRST DAY OF PRACTICE STARTS TOMORROW HELL YEAH

I mean, yes, technically the other guys on my team have been practicing for two weeks but I have sadly been out of commission. BUT NOT ANYMORE BABY THE BITCH IS BACK

This will help distract me from the pain and yearning as I wait a whole week to see you again. I’ll be wistfully wandering the moors before Saturday, mark my words.

I’m also fascinated by the idea of a brother who’s you, but more attractive. Does it hurt to look at him directly? Do strangers fall in love on the spot? Is he officially considered a menace to society because he’s caused traffic accidents and ruined weddings by walking past at the wrong moment?

Someone should put a stop to him before things get out of control! No man should wield such power.

The idea that you, of gorgeous cheekbones, perfect hair, jawline, and eyes and face in general, notorious multi-tasker, valedictorian and walking encyclopedia, not to mention polyglot, could think someone else got the good genes means either you are humble to the point of actively lying to yourself or your brother is a minor deity.

Courfeyrac, I can hear you saying, flattery really isn’t necessary.

But it is! Enjolras, who I’ve mentioned before and is my best friend in the whole world, is gorgeous to the point of being inconvenient to look at. I’m a notorious flirt, I know this, and I’m good at it, but we’re not even in the same league when it comes to making people question their sexualities. He walks into a room and you can see half the people inside mentally decide they’re bi-curious. He’s also a raving lunatic and antagonistic asshole, which he openly accepts and takes pride in, but try to tell him he’s attractive and he looks at you like you’ve just suggested he’s got wings or a tail. So what I’m trying to say, I think, is that I’m used to people not realising how good looking they are. And bludgeoning them with compliments is my way of dealing with this.

Anyway. Getting sidetracked.

I’m flattered you use me as a method of procrastination! I’m gonna make myself a button that says ‘more interesting than calculus’ and wear it with pride. Also, is writing to pen pals not mandatory at the Academy? We’re given a half hour block during the study period. When we first started, Enjolras said the whole thing was “infantile and outdated and a waste of time”, but at this very moment he is on page six (6) of his latest aggressive correspondence to his mystery R, even though I saw what R sent him last time and it was, I shit you not, an envelope that was empty except for a tiny (approx. 3 centimeters long) rubber chicken. For context, the one before was a thorough analysis of wage inequality written entirely in pig latin.

I hope one day I meet this person, even if immediately afterwards they steal my kidney or turn me into a newt or whatever minor trickster gods do these days to pass the time when they’re not torturing my best friend.

Anyway, gotta go, stay sane, don’t kill anyone unless you really have to, and if so lemme know and I’ll help you get rid of the body. I know a guy.

Courfeyrac

p.s. I already like you, idiot.

#this little wip exercise is bad for me it makes me want to keep working on all of these lmao #elle writes things #elle answers your questions #anon #courferre

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years ago

Text

Choices Part 2

Rating: T (Not an M yet, but there are hints of M to come *wink wink*)

Word Count: 3.6k (I know, I’m sorry it’s short, but I really felt like I needed it to end where it did!)

A/N: Kicking off my little follower milestone celebration, here is Part 2 to Choices!!! I promise I won’t make y’all wait as long for Part 3, but I was smack dab in dead week and finals week, and it sucked. I didn’t have the time to write for sooooo long, so now that I’m back, expect more regular updates! My fall quarter doesn’t start til the end of September, so I’ll have a fair bit of time to dedicate to writing (even though I start working again on the 8th). Please, let me know what you guys think!! Your feedback is what motivates me!

P.S. This chapter takes place immediately after Chapter 1, so you might want to re-read that! It’s linked here!

Tags: @chibi-liz05, @theocatkov, @jaa1682-27, @miscellaneousfangirling, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @aliciaxglasgow, @mxndoscyarika and @perropascal

If you want to be tagged in any future chapters (or any other works), just let me know!

This fic is in part inspired by the amazing @auty-ren and her amazing story, The Offer, along with @magichandthing and this piece of artwork!! Please, go check them out!!!

You’ve died.

You know you’ve died because there is no possible way that what just happened… happened.

You stare dumbly at Din, searching his blank helmet fruitlessly for any sign that you’re not imagining the words that just left his lips.

“S–Surely you’re not–not serious?”

Your voice is quiet, meek, and hitches on the end of your sentence. You’re half expecting Din to laugh and pull away, proclaiming that this is all some kind of joke, that Jeye put him up to it, something to explain this madness, but instead Din takes your hand that’s still intertwined with his and lays your palm flat against his bare chest, directly over his beating heart.

“Do you feel that, mesh’la?” His own voice is calm and soft, not mocking or judgemental, like you were expecting. “My ka’rta belongs to you, and it has since the day we met. I just didn’t know it then.”

You can feel tears spring to your eyes. Jeye had explained a few things to you in your time at the covert, so you knew exactly what Din was talking about. Mandalorians believed their heart and their soul were one and the same, and that their ka’rta could only ever belong to one other person, their riduur. Marriage, in Mandalorian culture, was about ownership. Not the same kind of ownership that Gallan and your village believed in, thank the Maker. Your village believed that a girl was the property of her father, and a woman was the property of her husband.

While Mandalorians did believe that a woman was her husband’s to own, they also believed that in return, a husband was owned by his wife, although Jeye had been quick to inform you that Mandalorians were also accepting of two men or two woman becoming riddur, although it was less common, since their culture was heavily centered around the creation of children. No one person had more power over the other in a relationship, ever. If one half of a riduurok ever abused their spouse, the tribe stepped in, banishing the abuser and protecting the abused.

For Din to say that his ka’rta belonged to you was… huge, to say the least. You’d never expected it, not in a million years.

“Din, I… how?” Your voice nearly broke. “I’m not a Mandalorian, I’ve never sworn the Creed, kriff, I’m still considered an aruetti by members of your tribe! How could you possibly–” Din’s gloved fingers move softly against your cheek, and you realize belatedly that you’re crying. “How could you possibly say that your ka’rta belongs to me?”

Din’s fingers clench tight around yours, holding your hand firmly against his chest. When he speaks, his voice is deep and gravelly and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. “I do not care that you are not Mandalorian. I do not care that you have not sworn the Creed. I do not care what others in the tribe think. I have given my entire life to my tribe, my people. Might I be permitted this small measure of happiness?”

There are still tears streaming down your cheeks, but you barely notice them. “But my Papá–“

“He has already given me permission.”

Your jaw drops. Din talked to your Papá about this? He asked if he could marry you? And your Papá said yes?

You’re so caught up in your shock that you don't notice Din pulling something from his trouser pocket. But you definitely notice when he holds it up in front of your eyes for you to see.

It’s a ring. And not just any ring, but your mother’s. You recognized the design instantly. Your mother had worn that gold band every single day without fail.

“When I talked to your father, he gave me this ring. He said that he and your mother shared so many happy years together, and that he hoped I could bring you that same happiness.”

Din was clearly waiting for your permission, and once you nodded, he slowly took your hand and slid the ring onto your ring finger.

“I love you, Sarad’ika. And while there are those in my tribe that would insist on a traditional Mandalorian ceremony, I want to make you happy. If you wish to be married in your own customs instead, I will gladly oblige.”

You’re lost in thought for a moment. While you would love to only get married in the covert, and never have to deal with your old village again, you know that you can’t. A part of you wants your Papá–and maybe Old Nan–to see you get married. Another part of you, a more spiteful part, wants Gallan to see you getting married, if only to show him that the thing he wants most is no longer within his grasp.

“I would love to be married in the covert, Din. But, if you would’t mind, could we also have a ceremony in the village?”

As Din slowly nods his head, a grin spreads across your lips. You’re feeling giddy and excited, and you still think you might be dreaming, but Din’s right here in front of you, and you’re just so happy.

“Then, yes.”

“W–What?”

This is the first time Din has sounded anything less than absolutely confident, and it makes your heart melt a little bit.

“Yes, Din Djarin. I will marry you. My heart and soul are yours.” You rest your hand on the side of his helmet–the little clink that your ring makes when it hits the beskar makes you want to grin like an idiot–and bring his forehead once more to rest against yours.

One of Din’s arms wraps around your waist, crushing you against him, while his other hand buries itself in the hair at the back of your head, holding your forehead firmly against his. Time stands still as you’re wrapped in his arms. You relish in the feeling of his skin against yours, something you’re only feeling just now for the first time.

“I don’t want to wait, cyare. Please, do not make me wait a moment more to marry you,” Din begs, his voice breaking as his grip somehow tightens even further. Your throat closes up at the blatant want in his voice, and it makes your heart sing.

“I would not ask that of you, Din Djarin.” He sighs shakily, and you continue. “I will admit, I do not want to wait a moment longer than absolutely necessary to be your riduur, your wife.”

Din slowly released your waist, stepping back from you, but still cradling your head in his hand. You can feel his eyes on you, despite the visor blocking you from truly seeing him. “A Mandalorian riduurok does not require much, Sarad’ika, merely a witness for both spouses as they say their vows. Who would you wish–” Din trails off, as you bite your lip and look away. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His voice is frantic, and you’re quick to calm him. “Nothing is wrong, Din. I just–” You pause, fiddling with the fabric of your dress, the same one you always wear. “Do you think, maybe, Jeye would be willing–” You leave the question hanging in the air, and are surprised by the sudden laugh Din lets loose.

“Do I think Jeye would mind?” He chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Sweet girl, I think she would love to be your witness.” You smile brightly, praying that Din doesn’t notice how your cheeks heat up at his term of endearment. It’s not one he’s used before, but it immediately lights a fire underneath your skin.

“I wish to ask Paz, so I do believe it will be perfect for them to be our witnesses.” Din sounds so happy, it’s infectious, even though you cannot see his expression. “Let me contact them, it should only take a minute.”

Din seems to let you go reluctantly, striding across the room to a small table and picking up a device, although it’s only after he presses a button and static fills the room that you realize it’s a comlink.

As you listen to him call for Paz and Jeye, you look around his rooms, taking in the fact that you’re standing in Din’s private rooms, and more specifically, his bedroom. You can feel your face heating up once more when you realize you’d been sitting upon Din’s bed. You’d never been in a man’s room aside from your own father’s and even then, it had been years since you’d been small enough to crawl into bed with him.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear Din come up behind you, so you’re startled when a warm arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest with a small oof. You feel the cool beskar resting against the crown of your head, and you can see out of the corner of your eye the sharp horns that curve around the two of you. Instead of feeling afraid, you just feel safe, knowing that Din would never hurt you.

As you rest your hand on his around your waist, you’re startled to feel bare skin. “Mmh, got tired of the gloves, Din?” You lightly run your fingers over the back of his hand, delighting in getting to touch him without any barriers.

“Wanted to feel you, sweet girl.” His voice is soft, so quiet that it’s not picked up by the modulator in his helmet. If you hadn’t been standing so close to him, you probably wouldn’t have even heard him, but you had, and you feel your knees go weak at his words. His arm is tight around your waist, and you know he won’t let you fall, so you allow yourself to sag against him, releasing a puff of air as you do so.

“Din, you can’t say things like that,” You protest weakly, biting your lip as his other hand rests heavy on your waist, keeping you upright.

“Why not?”

You want to growl at the mock-innocence in his tone, because you know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Din.”

Unfortunately, your voice isn’t nearly as strong as you’d like it to be, and you can both hear and feel Din chuckle at your words. Before he can tease you anymore, the two of you hear the door to his chambers open, and two sets of footsteps enter. Din doesn’t let go of you however, not completely, merely loosening his grip so that the two of you can turn to face your guests.

You watch as Jeye enters first, Paz following behind her like a huge, beskar shadow. You can’t see her face, but you just know that Jeye is wearing a shit-eating grin, and you’re pretty damn sure Paz is too.

Jeye walks forward, tugging you out of Din’s grasp and into a hug. Paz says something to Din, but you don’t hear what it is, you’re too busy squeezing your friend tightly. She squeezes back just as tight, before letting you go and the both of you turn, catching the tail end of Din and Paz’s embrace. Paz turns to you, and you’re surprised when he steps forward and scoops you into his arms, swinging you wildly around in a circle.

You let out a surprised laugh, clutching tightly to his shoulders as this monster of a man lifts you as though you weigh nothing. He laughs as well, a deep belly laugh that you can feel, and it makes you so happy.

Paz finally sets you down, his large hands cupping your shoulders. “Congratulations, vod’ika,” he rumbles. “Din couldn’t have found anyone better for a riduur.”

You hear Jeye suck in a breath, and you look at her, but her helmet is focused on Paz. You look back at him when his hands drop suddenly from your shoulders. You can tell by his posture that something’s wrong.

“Paz? Paz, what is it?” You ask him softly, but he doesn’t answer. You turn helplessly to Din, desperate to know what just occurred. “Din?”

You hear Paz start, “Bury’ca, don’t–” but Din is already speaking.

“He’s worried he offended you, Sarad’ika.” You’re confused, how could Paz have possibly offended you? Din sees your confusion and elaborates. “Vod’ika, in our language, means little sister.”

You gasp, throwing your hands over your mouth in shock. Spinning to face Paz, you stare at him, this man who you’ve just met today, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. Paz must see the tears in your eyes because he tries to apologize, but he barely gets one word out before you throw yourself into his arms, forcing him to catch you.

He stumbles back, surprised at the assault, but his arms come up tentatively around you nonetheless. “Paz,” you gasp, clinging tightly to him. “I’ve never had a brother,” you whisper, feeling completely overwhelmed with emotion. Paz’s arms tighten around you, and he leans his head against yours gently.

You were an only child, your mother dying before she could give you any siblings. It had never bothered you until one day you’d seen children playing in the village, brothers and sisters running around, having fun. You’d tried to join, but they’d jeered and laughed, called you a freak before running away. You’d gone running home to your Papá, demanding a sibling, and when your Papá had told you that only your Mamá could have given you one–but she was gone now, and couldn’t–you’d cried.

That Paz already saw you as a little sister made you feel about ten feet tall, and you couldn’t contain your excitement, even if you’d tried. You finally let Paz go, the smile on your face shining brighter than the sun.

Din holds his hand out to you, and you place your hand in his, letting him pull you to stand in front of him, face to face. You figure Din must have explained already to Paz and Jeye, because they take their places next to the both of you without any prompting. Paz places a hand on Din’s pauldron, and Jeye places her hand on your own shoulder.

“Are the both of you ready?” When both Din and you nod, Paz continues. “Din will say the vow first, and then you’ll repeat after him, okay Sarad’ika?” You nod once more, hardly able to believe this is happening. It’s been a little more than a month since you first met Din, and now you’re about to marry him. It’s only a little overwhelming.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

“Mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.”

“We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

Din squeezes your hand with each vow, and you squeeze in return as you slowly repeat the words, with Jeye whispering their meaning in Basic as Din speaks, so you know what it is he’s saying, and what you are repeating back. It’s more beautiful than you would have expected, although you feel flustered at the last line of the vow, about raising warriors. You’d never planned on having kids, but that had been when your only options for a husband had been men from the village. You don’t think you’d mind if you had kids, as long as they were half of Din.

Paz says something to Din, but you’re distracted by Jeye pulling you into another hug. “Welcome, Sarad’ika,” she whispers. “You’re aliit, now.” You smile, squeezing one last time before you release her. The two of them leave rather abruptly, and you realize as you watch them leave, that you’re alone in the bedroom with Din. With your husband.

You’re about to turn to Din–although you have no idea what to say–when you hear a soft hissing sound. There’s a small click, like a latch coming undone, and then you hear the unmistakable sound of beskar being set on the wooden table. Immediately, you clench your eyes shut, panic filling you.

“Din!” You hiss, keeping your back turned to him. “What are you doing?”

There’s a heavy pause, and then a hand lands on your shoulder, spinning you around gently, although you keep your eyes clenched shut. “Sarad’ika?” Din sounds confused, and you wanted to smack him. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Your voice gets a little louder with each panicked word. “Din, I’m not allowed to see your face!”

Your breath comes in pants, worry coursing through you. You’re so focused on not opening your eyes that you’re startled when Din pulls you into his arms, and you feel his lips press against your forehead. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just holds you close, and you can’t help but relax slightly.

“Sarad’ika, ner riduur, my wife,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. “Sweet girl, you are the only one allowed so see my face. Did Jeye not tell you so?”

You shake your head slowly, but keep your eyes closed, half-afraid that this is a dream. “Din, are–are you sure? Because once you do this, you can’t go back, and I don’t want you to regret it, I don’t want you to resent–”

Din gently covers your mouth with his hand, halting your protests. “I could never resent you,” he murmured, his lips still pressed against your forehead. “You’ve brought me more joy and happiness that I ever thought I could experience in one lifetime. If there is one person I want to see my face, it’s you, Sarad’ika.”

You’re still hesitant, but as Din squeezes your waist, you slowly open your eyes. You’re staring at his chest, and you bite your lip, still afraid to look up. Din gently grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, slowly tilting your head up until you’re finally looking at his face.

Despite your previous hesitance, your eyes greedily roam over Din’s face as soon as they land on him. You’re almost… surprised by how gorgeous he is. His hair and his eyes are dark. And somehow, it’s exactly how you pictured. There’s scruff on his cheeks, and you run the tips of your fingers over the hair, marvelling at how it feels. You cup Din’s cheek and finally meet his eyes, grinning shyly as he smiles at you. You slowly brush the fingers of your other hand over his lips, still stretched into a grin. The grin fades, and his eyes seem to darken.

He tilts your face up just slightly, a whisper passing between his lips and brushing against your fingers. “May I?” Your agreement barely rests in the air before Din is pressing his lips against yours.

You’d overheard some of the girls in the village talk about how it felt to have a first kiss, how it felt when their lips first touched, the ‘sparks’ that flew. You’d always dismissed them and their ramblings, in part because you’d never been even remotely attracted to any of the men in your village. You’d always thought that if you ended up with a husband, it would be a practical match, not a romantic one, and you’d grown resigned to the fact that you weren’t likely to ever experience the ‘sparks’ the other girls always raved about.

You weren’t upset to be proven wrong.

Din’s lips were soft, though somewhat chapped, but it hardly mattered. He pressed his lips gently against yours at first, waiting for you to respond before moving any further. When you cautiously moved your lips against his, a silent approval, he immediately deepens the kiss.

His fingers left your chin to cradle the side of your face, angling your head as his lips slotted against yours. The kiss wasn’t rushed or hurried, but you felt your heart beginning to race all the same. His other arm was firm around your waist, and you weren’t sure you could escape, though you didn’t want to.

You slowly moved your hands from his cheeks to his hair, running your fingers through the dark strands. His hair had been messy to begin with, from being in a helmet all day, but you were sure it looked even worse now as you gripped the strands tightly.

He groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest, and you grinned victoriously against his lips. In retaliation, Din dipped you slightly, his lips never leaving yours, forcing you to grasp at his shoulders for balance.

He kissed you until you were breathless, and it was only once you thought you might pass out from lack of air that you pulled away. Din didn’t let you go far though, resting his bare forehead against yours.

“Sarad’ika, you have to tell me to stop.”

His breath brushed against your spit-slicked lips, cooling the skin that had heated from the arduous kiss. You felt a sense of pride that Din was just as breathless as you, although his words confused you.

“Why would I want you to stop, Din?”

Another groan left his lips at your words, and he couldn’t resist pressing a quick kiss against your lips. “Because, mesh’la,” he said. “I don’t want to push you. I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything you don’t want.”

You laughed, still somewhat breathless. Stupid, clueless, noble Mandalorian. “Din, are we not married?” You waited for him to nod before continuing. “Even though I may not have ever expected that I would marry, that does not mean that I am unaware of what usually takes place between married couples.” Once more, you waited for Din to acknowledge your words.

“I desire more than just the appearance of marriage, Din Djarin. I am giving you permission. I am now your wife, in mind, soul, and body. I want this. I want you.”

#Mandalorian #Din x reader #clan leader!din #Din Djarin #Reader #reader fic #fic #masterlist #no use of Y/N #inspired by Beauty and the Beast #fanfic #multi-chapter fic #chapter 2

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demwhore · 4 years ago

Text

Rocketeer (N.YT)

Pairing: Jaeger Pilot! Yuta & Female Reader

featuring some nct and wayv members

Jaeger! au | Pacific Rim! au

Description: It takes high courage to ride a Jaeger and to kill a Kaiju.

Or: Yuta deadpanned, “I’m a fucking Jaeger pilot. That is something I should boast about.”

words ➙ 15k

genre ➙ sci-fi, angst, romance, action, fantasy, smut

warnings ➙ major character death, graphic description of monsters, physical violence, language, scenes of making out, smut

A/N ➙ I am deeply inspired by the movie, Pacific Rim. However, i made some changes in the plot. This was rushed, im sorry. This wasn’t proofread, I apologize for some grammatical errors. This took me a while to write but it was worth it. Happy Reading! Kindly reblog and like! <3

P.S ➙ I edited the fic poster using photoshop cs4 and polarr. All credits (pictures used) belong to the perspective owners (sm entertainment & the creators of Pacific Rim) that edit took me ages (please credit me if you wanted to repost the edit, don’t let my efforts go to waste D:) I also created the moodboard (in the teaser), all pictures used are from pinterest. I had to cry blood while editing oml lol, however it was enjoyable and im drooling for yuta pls claim me

Playlist ➙ rocketeer by far east movement, surrender by cash cash, i’m feeling good by michael bublé, pacific rim by ramin djawadi & tom morello

Tags ➙ @shinseobs [hi tiff, ily so much!], @insomni-writing [hi somni, thank you for proofreading the draft, ur the best!], @jaehyunspaghetti [hi bby, i hope u are doing well!], @neocultvretechs [hi my lovely kai, i hope u enjoy my little yuta fic offering to u], @milkinqjungs [love u], @jaextapose [ruth ur the best ;)], and all the yuta stans out there!

Kaiju ( 怪獣, かいじゅう, kaijū) Strange, Giant Beast.

Jaeger (yāɡər, German) Hunter.

“Is this a gift for winning against the Kaijus?”

Yuta murmured, “Ask me to fuck you, and I’ll glady do it.”

You whispered back, “Then do it.”

He responded well; responded to a need he could no longer control. He was driven by lust, passion and determination. Yuta crashed his lips onto yours. Your lips parted on a quiet moan; your hands busy hovering over your boyfriend's body. Instantly, you cling onto him, having his body as your support. Both of your mouths; busy, wild, willing, driven with so much anticipation. Breaths ragged. Darkened eyes. Yuta pressed his body onto you more, you felt giddy; his erection throbbing against your core. Your body vibrated against his; similar with a string plucked with so much force; like a plucked harp. His heart pounded hard against his chest, his hands exploring your body; every curve of you that drives him insane in his room at the Underbase. Your hollows that tormented him. You alone, made him drive to insanity, and he’s living for it. Every cell in your body screamed for only Nakamoto Yuta, your core ached for him, and him alone. Every need Yuta felt was only for you. Only you.

“I missed you.” You whispered the moment he left your mouth to dive into your exposed shoulders. Kissing your clavicles, leaving purple marks every suck he took. Yuta didn’t stop as he marked every exposed column of your throat. You tugged at his dirty blonde locks. Your breast rose and fell against his needy touches. “I missed you so much.”

Being a Jaeger pilot means sacrifice. Being deployed to far bases, away from each other. Fighting off Kaijus as if it’s the end of the fucking world. And the constant feel of fear never leaving both of your systems. Questions running through both of your minds, will you still see Yuta after a mission? Will he still see you? Will both of you survive? The world you both live in is so complicated to the extent; complex. Both of you always believed that the world is as alive as the inhabitants were. There is life everytime you look up at the skies. The celestial body is as alive as humans are. It was really fascinating. That is what both you and Yuta thought when you were both highschoolers; turns out the world has made a whole one-hundred and eighty turn; both of you were looking in the wrong direction. There was no life above but beneath. When alien life dominated the Earth it originated deep down the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Their entryway came from the fissure of the two tectonic plates; Pacific and Southern Plate. A made portal from hell to Earth. The Breach.

Yuta breathed and looked at your eyes. Those tantalizing eyes that never failed to make Yuta in awe. He had seen how those eyes morphed into different emotions. Lust, fear, love, sadness and Yuta loved it, so much. Yuta could still remember the first landing of the Kaiju at his hometown, Osaka. He held your hands, and ran as far as he could bringing you out of the chaos you were in.

He was vulnerable that time, young, not older than fifteen. He heard how loud the roars resonated from the giant beast. He saw how every infrastructure, made meticulously by humans, crumpled under one swing of the Kaiju. Yuta heard every alarm wail around his neighborhood, every shattered glass, every startled cry, including yours. That is the time Yuta swore, to fight off to the last of his breath, to protect you because he loved you so much. You don’t deserve any of this fucking mess.

Your skin was flushed, your eyes slumberous, as you slid down your hands to cup his face. “When I was there, fighting, all I could think was you. And all I know is, I love you so much.” Your words touched him, he had his hands framing your cheeks. He smiled, “I will kill every Kaiju so they won’t block my way into you. I’ll fight for you, my love, for us.” You raised a trembling finger, “I want to be alone with you. I will be deployed again tomorrow in Hong Kong. Make me yours tonight, Yuta.”

“That’s far, I’ll be staying here. But your plan is what I can’t argue with.” Your head was spinning, vision blurred into daze. Yuta looked at you as if you were a shimmering glass of cool water and he cannot control himself but to indulge you, as he was a man with a desperate thirst. You approached his face again but you dodged his lip, he grew impatient at your actions. You nibbled his right lobe and his familiar musky scent filled your senses. That scent that you always miss to smell every time you are on a mission. It made your heart thud. Nakamoto Yuta could drive you mad. “We are in the corridor of our base. I don’t want the marshal seeing us fuck here. Which room is closest?”

Yuta breathed out, “Mine.”

“Do you perhaps know an elevator that is barely used? I can’t let people see me in this kind of state.”

Yuta kissed you again, nibbling your lips. You elicited a quiet moan. “Trust me, people are almost asleep at this hour.” He linked his fingers onto yours and dragged you towards the elevator. The lift gave a sudden jolt. You turned around to capture Yuta’s swollen lips. Murmuring, “I want to feel you.” You scrambled and yanked away his tie, undo-ing his shirt, the buttons shoved aside the stanched material. A hum of pleasure surged on Yuta’s throat while you explored his chest; savoring the power of sinew and muscle underneath. You used a fingertip to trace his nipple, then your mouth replaced your fingertips in an instant. Yuta gasped and whispered incoherent cusses. His body lurched, beneath your plump lips you could feel his heart jolt at your sudden actions. Yuta groaned, he looked at you with half-hooded eyes, “You’ll be the death of me, (Y/N).”

You didn’t answer him, instead you tugged into his nipple using your teeth. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

The elevator halted. Yuta immediately scooped you around his torso. He squeezed your ass, making you yelp in surprise. His mouth took yours, initiated a dazzling, dizzying kiss. Your blood heated against his touch, it was hot like a burning flash against your skin, roaring through your core. One moment you felt a wall behind you, and Yuta trapped you and captured your lips once again. He sighed, then growled, “I want you naked.”

“Open your room, mister.” He assisted you down and approached his doors. He held the keys with a shaky hand. With a lot of effort he shoved the door wide and yanked your arm. The door shut with a loud thud. Yuta pushed your figure towards the door. He shoved your shirt out from your shoulders, down your arms. For thrilling moments, Yuta’s dark look made your core throb with so much anticipation. The need raged, clawed inside her systems like a resident virus as his teeth seared off your exposed chest. Yuta wrapped your ponytail into his hands, then arched it towards the left to devour onto your exposed, now marked throat. You were a moaning mess, eyes shut at the delicious feeling Yuta is making you feel. He then neglected your throat, then claimed your lips once again. The vague sense of warmth enclosing both of your bodies. Your top is completely removed leaving you in your tank top and bra. Yuta was still completely dressed. Both of you staggered as you tried to push him away to undress him. He shoved you again to the nearest wall, his pounding erection making you cry out, you want him, badly. You thrusted against his bulge. Yuta’s breath hitched, following a harsh rasp through his lips. He caught your face, eyes dark as midnight, he stared down at you, “You want this?”

“Yes. Fuck me all you want, Yuta.”

On a vicious oath, he yanked your tank top. With an expert flick of his fingers, he unhooked you bra and yanked it off. Yuta’s hand is now at your waist, tight, he lifted you off your feet to take your breast into his mouth. The air around you thickened. Your breath snagged, in both of your lungs, as you arched back giving him more access, your fingers gliding down his shoulder blades. Yuta’s mouth fed sucked, his teeth scraping erotically on your tensed, aching, budded nipple, You whimpered against the wall, the mixture of pain and pleasure taking a toll on you, you were desperately calling out for his name, your pussy pounding, panties soaked.

“Oh, god, Yuta. I can’t.”

“You can.” He lowered downwards. Your stomach, then your navel. He let go of your waist then he kneeled. Unbuckling your jeans and sliding it down in a tormenting manner. He then, twirled the lace of your panties, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s it, be wet for me.” He pulled down the fabric down to your ankles, your eyes shutting at his touches. He parted your legs, then slid a slim finger onto your folds. You gasped. “Oh fuck.”

“Can you lie down?”

“On the floor?”

“I’m impatient.”

Yuta is shining, with sweat with the lamp light above both of you. You immediately lay down, the floor was cold. The sudden cold contact making you hiss, but you couldn’t care less. Yuta teasingly rubbed your labia, in a tortuous slow pace. Yuta gave a triumphant smile. He felt a sense of pride making you mewl onto the floor because of his touches. You shutted your eyes, moaning at the contact. His slim fingers going in slow directions; up and down. It was smooth with your juices oozing out. You couldn't bear with his teaching, you grabbed his wrist to push it into your core further. “Woah, woah, excited?”

“I hate you.”

He rubbed your clitoris; in a slow, sensual, circular manner and it made you gasp for air. You were now a moaning mess. Your eyes screw shut, your mind went haywire; black; full of desire and all you could think was Yuta’s fingers; torturing you erotically. It felt heavenly. After your clit, he dragged his fingers downwards, his other hand spreading your legs more apart. He slides in two fingers with ease, dragging your walls. Your hands clenched. Yuta dragged your arousal into his fingers. Then left you there, hanging, waiting for more. You peeked up, brows furrowed, but the sight in front of you was a masterpiece. Yuta looked like someone who was crafted by Michael Angelo; he knelt there, he looked ethereal; golden, in the yellow hue of his lamp, his slim fingers glistening with your juices, eyes locked into yours; dark as the midnight, full of lust. He licked his fingers and slid it all into his mouth. The flash of passion, the fury of need that darkened his eyes, filled with a sense of decadent power, as you laid there, all ready for him. Time and place was a virtue, but all you wanted was to spend your nights with him, only him.

“You really want to fuck me here? You’ve got a damn bed, Yuta.”

“Later.” The sight before him was something so lovely and intricate. The need you felt for him was primitive, overwhelming. You scrambled out from your position and one moment Yuta felt your greedy hands unbuckling his belt and unhooking his pants. He watched you in amusement, he didn’t complain, more; let you do your own will. You never moved so fast in your life, you undressed him so fast, it even surprised you. Yuta dragged you down onto the floor again, the coolness of the tiles against her back made her register to her dazed mind. Yuta leaned over. His mouth feasting over your flesh, greedy hands roaming and racing around your quivering body in a ruthless manner. Heat pumped into both of your systems. You felt yourself going warm, soft, melting into his touch. Becoming one. Your mouths connected once again. Hot and greedy. Salivas connecting. You nipped onto his lips, chest. Fingers grazing and digging into the hard ridge of his shoulders. Both of you couldn’t get enough of each other; savouring pore by pore. He palmed you, again. You gasped at the sudden touch, it sent shivers to your spine. His fingers went down to your core, moving against your heat, relentlessly building you up, the drive, the need for release clawing viciously.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” His hair is mopped overhead. Damped, but still beautiful as it is. “I love you.” The shadows around you seemed to shift while your fingers stroked. His fingers are still busy devouring your core. Sensation slid after sensation, building inside you, in trembling, shuddering layers, then exploded. Your vision blurred; a half sob tore from your lips. Strength gone, you lay there motionless, air around is thick with ragged breaths and sex. Your heartbeat stumbled. Yuta caressed his shaft, then the head; red, oozing with pre-cum.

“You’ll hate me more.” Yuta grinned as he slammed his throbbing cock onto you. A sob of pure, overwhelming pleasure eased up your throat. You heard both of your flesh clicking with every move Yuta made. The air smelt of sex. Dark. Your body opened and joined with his. Arching, you meet his heavy thrusts lifting your hips after his attacks, moving in a desperate manner, urging him on “Shit, you feel so good.” In that fleeting moment, in the deep night. You understood, there will be no other man in your mind, only the man in front of you, deep, thrusting, Yuta was only the one. The one.

Underbase. South Korea

Yuta sat alone. He stared at your sleeping figure on his bed. The marks lingered on your neck like wild berries. He felt his arms shake uncontrollably. He stood up in his black boxers; and approached the medication box just inside his drawers. He searched for the familiar capsule. Chloroquine. His breathing steadied, and found the strength to look at your figure again. His subconscious is having an internal battle with his heart. He drank his medication and went to the bed with you. Your skin glowed like warm honey. Yuta whispered in, “I will stop loving you until the last rose dies.”

Yuta and you have been in ups and downs. Of which included; surviving the Kaiju attacks.

Yuta could still remember that devastating day. Indistinct radio chatters. Government jets. Explosions. Roars. Chaos. By the time the Kaiju was taken down by tanks and jets, exactly seven days and 40 miles later, three cities were already destroyed. Tokyo, Kyoto, and his hometown, Osaka. Thousands of lives were lost, including those of his beloved parents. The city mourned for the lost souls, memorialized the ones who died because of the giant beast, and the people slowly moved on. Three months later, there was another attack. Taiwan. The beast shattered Taipei. People clamoring, people killed, the toxic blood of the beast painting the streets a vibrant blue. Then, another attack hit Los Angeles, the same destruction happening, the same trauma. Again, it was stopped. Then and there, the people learned and realized. The attacks wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Everything that happened was just the beginning. The calm before the storm. There was something waiting out there, something more grotesque, more destructive.

There both of you entered the dangerous world of being a Jaeger pilot.

The nation had been reborn, and set an alliance in order to be better prepared in case of another upcoming Kaiju attack. Resources were clamped together to build an indestructible weapon against the Kaijus. For the sake of the innocent lives, for the sake of their own sanity and peace. The people created their own version of the Kaiju. The Jaeger program was created. At first, there were a series of malfunctions and setbacks. A single pilot couldn’t withstand the neural load to catch up and interface with a Jaeger, the strain so powerful that it could cause intracranial nerve damage. And so, the two-pilot system was proposed. The left pilot for the left hemisphere and the right pilot for the right hemisphere.

With the Jaeger, the people started winning, soon being able to stop attacks of the Kaijus everywhere. Then came the propaganda. Kaiju and Jaeger toys. The Jaeger pilots became celebrities. Everything was going smoothly, all success falling into the people’s palm.

Then, it all changed.

“Alert Gipsy Danger. Kaiju movement spotted at Bay 10. Code name. Kaiju Sharp Snout. Category 3. 9,000 metric tons.”

Yuta scrambled immediately out of his bunk bed. He whispered and shook your figure lightly, “I need to go, I love you.” You groaned in response. He made a sudden jump and knocked at the door of his younger co-pilot, Mark, aggressively.

Mark’s door is slightly ajar. Yuta made himself in, further waking up the younger boy. “Wake up, Canada Boy. There’s Kaiju movement at the breach,” He slapped the bed of Mark’s lightly, “We are deployed to baby Mark-03.” He said in reference to the nuclear powered Jaeger. The machine they were piloting, Gipsy Danger, was Yuta and Mark's pride and joy. Mark opened the door to his room and Yuta moved in his room, and approached his cabinet and put on a grey t-shirt.

Mark groaned, “Not a good morning to you.”

Yuta smirked, “It’s a good morning to kick some Kaiju ass. Road to seven wins.”

Mark wiped his eyes, “What time is it?”

“Two.”

Mark made a face, “In the morning?”

Yuta grinned while fixing his cross necklace, “Yep.”

“Why are you so pumped up all of a sudden?”

Mark glanced behind Yuta’s shoulder and saw your sleeping figure on his bed. Their rooms were just interconnected with a single door as a barrier. He gave the older pilot a smirk. Mark’s unanswered questions are answered; Yuta was the sole reason of the sudden moaning at twelve fucking midnight.

“What category is it?”

“Three, the biggest one, yet.”

Mark narrowed his eyes, “Code name?”

“Sharp Snout.”

Yuta approached the younger boy and made a playful fist bump with him. “It’s superhero time.”

Mark gave him a toothy grin. A knock disrupted the two from the main door of their rooms. A male voice grunted from the other side of the steel door.

“Hey, Handsomes, time for the drop.”

Mark made his way to the bathroom, “Who gave them that code name?”

“Me.”

Mark gave Yuta a questionable look, “Handsome? Really?” then grinned afterwards. “Don’t get a big head, hyung. Also, tell (Y/N) I said hi after our mission.”

By the time Yuta and Mark were preparing for their mission, you were still asleep. The boots of the two young bachelors clinked towards the steel platform. Yuta and Mark met when there was a Jaeger Pilot sign up in Japan. Yuta and Mark had a similar childhood experience, having lost their families because of the Kaiju Attack. They weren’t the stars among their classes, never have been selected for an urgent attack. However, there was one thing that made the two exceptional among all the Jaeger pilots; they were drift compatible. They had a strong bond which made their fights more successful. The drift compatibility was, in essence, two completely different systems conjoined together to create an enormous battle defense against an intruder. Finding a drifting partner was like searching for your other half, your other soul. Yuta didn’t want to have you as his co-pilot; he gets distracted by your beauty easily.

Yuta and Mark arrived at the drop facility. The workers assisted the two in wearing their titanium metal suit, tools whirring, a metal spinal cord attached to their back. The two pilots gave each other playful glances. They wore matching white helmets, a yellow liquid dispersing downwards.

“Data on Helmet. Data relay gel dispersing on circuit plots.”

The machine gave a low hum. The lights flicked on, the others following. The heavy secured door opened with a loud hiss. Yuta and Mark entered, each stride followed by a clank. The attachment metal descended, a loud swish coming from its origin. It looked like a harness, but there was no attachment on the pilot’s torso; the metal straps are only connected to the arms and foot. Yuta and Mark placed both of their feet on the pedal platform, then the equipment wrapped around their soles and ankles, securing both of them tightly. It gave an impression as if they are flying mid-air, the security straps hidden behind their lavish suits. The staff whirred the screw onto their backs, the driller machine turning the screw aggressively. Another metal, similar to a handcuff automatically attached on the boy’s wrists, clicking after each wrist. Then a circular device was connected to their palms, a light emitting from its center. A circular plot on Mark’s right palm and another on Yuta’s left palm.

A voice came out from the p.a system.

“Good morning, handsome boys.”

Yuta grinned and pressed the overhead controller, “Taeil, what’s up, my man?”

Taeil chuckled, “Mightier than ever. Won an algebra quiz.”

Yuta pressed the button again, “Having a sexy brain makes you so attractive, brother.”

Mark pressed in his buttons calling out to Taeil, “How was the date? Did you score?” Then the two laughed boisterously.

Taeil smirked from his station and levelled the mic onto his plump lips, “She loved me, that’s a giveaway, however, someone was barking. I will leave it to you guys to imagine what exactly that was.” Taeil went on a blind date, however, it didn’t go as well as he’d planned. The girl’s father didn’t fancy him at all.

Yuta groaned, “That must’ve hurt your ego, man.”

Taeil clicked his tongue, “Have established my ego and pride for several years. That one was chicken.”

Marshal Lau entered in his navy suit, “Engage the drop, Mr. Moon.”

Taeil’s body jerked up in surprise and he cleared his throat, “Engaging drop, Sir.” The hologram flashed in front of Taeil's face as he typed down the keyboard, vigorously. A bracelet lingered on his wrist. He spoke towards his mic again, “Marshal Lau on deck.” He pushed the button on his console, then jutted the controller similar to a joystick in an upward direction, “Securing conn pad, then, we are ready to drop.”

The staff from the conn pad attached the steel with the shape of a bowtie. The steel conjoined with a loud hiss.

“Conn pad attached, Sir Taeil. Back door secured.”

Yuta and Mark pressed the p.a button, “Ready for the drop.”

Yuta voiced out, “Gipsy Danger ready for the big drop.”

From a distance, the place Yuta and Mark are in, is actually a robot head. It was gigantic, it had a black exterior, the eyes that looked similar to a windshield, are colored a bright yellow. The air around it swooshed, steam coming out of the pipes. Then, the robot head dropped in an instant. The two pilot’s stomach churned as the head plunged from a high altitude.

Yuta hissed, “Here comes the roller coaster ride.”

Mark answered back, “Never was my favorite.”

Gipsy Danger’s head attached on its enormous torso. The two groaned at the impact of the drop, but recollected immediately. The head descended and locked onto its open neck. The head tilted towards the right, and a series of chains connected to each other.

“Connection complete, Sir.”

“Engage the pilot-to-pilot protocol now.”

Taeil typed in again, “Engaging pilot-to-pilot program in three, two, one,” he clicked a button, “Now.”

An AI voice sounded from the speakers, “Pilot-to-pilot sequence, protocol engaging.”

Gipsy Danger’s neck continued to move, securing all the heavy duty alloy into their places. The gaps from the neck closed in an instant. The enormous robot’s center core illuminated a high glow of red, the internal part turning in a fast, clockwise direction. The tower cranes moved away. The platform beneath the Jaeger’s feet moved slowly. The marshallers waved their luminous sticks guiding the moving vehicle with care. The doors of the base opened; violent waves flashed the bottom and strong winds blew into the base.

“Gipsy Launch. Bay nine.”

Mighty gales. Rain. Thunder Strikes. Gipsy stood out despite the storm eating in. Several lights luminated from the robot; the topmost head, chest, legs, the forearms. There were indistinct radio chatters heard, and the helicopters flew against the tempest. The moving platform dropped slowly into the water, creating a huge wave from the impact.

Taeil pressed several other buttons from the overhead console. “Gipsy Danger, ready and aligned, Sir.”

Marshal law leaned onto the microphone, “Rangers, this is Marshal Lau. Prepare for the neural handshake.”

Taeil moved again. His fingers grazing the buttons, the hologram screen illuminated robot parts and the brain; both left and right hemisphere shown. “Initiating neural handshake in fifteen seconds.” Taeil started counting downwards while typing vigorously, making sure the programs are set well. An image of the brain turned against the screen, “Ten.”

Marshal Lau observed the holographic screen, then took a peek at his watch. It was past three already.

“Eight.”

From the Gipsy, Mark pressed some buttons, then looked at Yuta. “I really can’t hide my secrets from you.”

Yuta tsk-ed, shaking his head, “Do the honor of stepping into my brain first.”

“Pilot-to-pilot sequence, protocol engaging. Neural handshake initiated.”

Mark and Yuta stood there, and closed both of their eyes. Both of the pilot’s visions looked like a big whirlpool; making them remember the significant memories of their past, then a blackout, then another memory. Each could read and see the latter’s memory. This was called the Drift. Jaeger Technology. Based on the fighter program neural systems. The two pilots mind-meld each other’s memories with the body of the giant machine. The deeper the bond shared between the two pilots, the stronger they fight.

A gigantic loading screen flashed on Taeil’s screen. “Neural handshake complete. Strong and deep.”

Marshal Lau stood behind him, staring deeply.

Yuta raised his left palm, the circular device illuminated. “Left hemisphere calibrating.”

Mark did the same, raising his right, the device glowed after his movements, “Right hemisphere calibrating.”

Both of the pilots moved simultaneously, raising one arm after another and throwing a punch. The gigantic machine followed the action of the two; lifting its gigantic arms then flexing them afterwards. The control and movement originated from its main base, the head from the two pilots engaged.

The female AI voiced out, “Calibration completed.”

Marshal Lau breathed then spoke, “Gentlemen, your orders are to hold and block Kaiju from entering Manila's waters. Copy?”

Yuta answered, “Copy, Marshal.”

Mark spoke, pressing the button from his overhead controller, “Sir, there is movement on the west coast. A fishing vessel--”

“Rangers, we are not risking millions of lives for a vessel that contains twenty. Orders are orders, understood?”

The two rangers answered at once, “Yes, Sir.”

Yuta pressed the button to cancel the message transmitting from the base. He gave Mark a stern gaze.

Mark gulped, “Is he serious?”

Yuta gave him a determined look, “Mark, you know what I have in mind?”

Mark’s lips pressed into a thin line, “Our minds are connected, I’m basically in there.”

Yuta grinned, “I know. Let’s go for some fish.”

Mark gave a lopsided smile, “Then, here we go!”

The two pilots made a step. The left then lifted their rights. It took great effort to take a stride with the machine. The two pilots were suspended mid-air; starting from their feet, there was an enormous chain turning into a clockwise direction from every movement made by the rangers. The Jaeger took big strides along the waters. The machine stood about two-hundred fifty feet; complex, weaponry used as defense for the alien life domination. Gipsy Danger walked in the waters as if not fazed by the violent thunders and winds blowing its enormous metal body. There are phenomena that are impossible to fight with; hurricanes, rain, thunderstorms— all acts of God. However, when you are in a Jaeger, everything impossible could be made possible. Being in a Jaeger meant, winning, defending everything coming at your way.

Shores of Manila

From the mile anchorage. The fishing vessel was wiped by the aggressive waters of the peninsula. The boat swayed carelessly along the violent waves, heavy currents hit the hull of the water vessel, splashing water everywhere its bow. The fishermen yelled instinctively while chaining their equipment to the post. Slipping on the deck, panicking and helpless. They were soaked while they ran around the open cabin to secure every paraphernalia in place; their yellow raincoat stood out in the dark storm, the wind tackling them out of their posture. A man in his mid-forties; with an Indian descent, trotted inside the cockpit. Another man, an African-American, controlled the helm, whirring it towards the right. The radar beeped loudly. The windshield wipers were busy; vigorously wiping the windows, left and right.

The man in his forties yelled out of his lungs, “How long is the port from Manila?!”

The man behind the wheel answered, speaking on top of his lungs, “Ten miles, Sir!”

An old man, from the right of the driver; wearing a beanie, roared while staring at the radar, “We’ll be dead by the time we reach Manila!”

The storm makes it hard for them to communicate; the only thing that is effective is through shouting on top of their lungs in attempts to hear each other, while the wind is aggressively slapping the vessel from left to right. The Indian shouted back, pointing at the radar. A green light blinked after his taps, “What about that island by the east? Two miles?!”

The American answered him, “It’s a mile, Sir!” He yanked the wheel again, stirring towards the East direction, “The island is getting closer!”

The old man in a beanie cried out, “How the hell is the island getting closer?! We ain’t even accelerating forward!”

The Indian caught his tongue, and stared intently ahead. The radar was beeping rapidly. The waves splashed and an enormous black rock came into a view. The island. The American shouted, his tone hinting victory “The island!”

The Indian shook his head, “It’s no island. Kaiju.”

The enormous monster swam across the waters. Its back was hunched, rising up and down from the waters.The Kaiju gave a low growl, its feet dragging heavily along the floors of the ocean. It was massive and its scales luminated a cerulean blue. This beast was neither lithe, nor blessed with grace. Its beady eyes glinted a deep black; upright soulless and evil. Underneath the drone of the rain there came another sound. At first it was quite indistinct, but as it drew closer to the vessel where the fishermen huddled, it became louder. A deafening growl that was bone-shrieking. The Kaiju swam fast, approaching the vessel in an instant.

The man in his forties cried, panic surging up his systems. “Fucking hell! Turn the vessel around!”

The Kaiju stood up. Standing about hundreds of feet. Yellow lines lingered around its back. A blue illuminating its sharp nose. Its giant claws raised, about to ponder the vessel to pieces. Luckily, the vessel had swerved to the right, missing the blow of the monster. The Kaiju roared loud as the thunder struck from the skies. Its gigantic mouth had illuminated a warm blue glow; its tongue raveling out. A string of curses unraveled from the fishermen’s tongue, like yarn unfurling, as the Kaiju advanced. It's golden and blue scales shimmered with hot anger along with it's dark, cold, greyish eyes. Every step it took rattled their bones, struck their hearts, and shook the waters. The Kaiju stared down at the vessel, its beady eyes hungry, angry, dangerous. The men from the deck cried in agony and panic, “Oh God!”

Another one yelled, “What the hell?” As several splashes of water sprayed them from the deck. Gipsy Danger rose up from the waters, its light blinding the people from the vessel with an electronic buzzing. The center core of the enormous machine glowed a fiery red, turning in a steady, fast, circular direction. The Jaeger’s large right hand grabbed the vessel from its bottom. The fishermen ducked their heads; figures crouched on the deck, trembling in terror. The vessel rose up in the air, in the palm of the gigantic robot. The fishermen yelled.

A female robotic voice boomed from the pilot’s control center. “Fishing vessel secured.”

From Mark’s circular plot; a holographic image of the vessel was shown. “Adjust the torque!”

Yuta nodded and pressed the buttons from the overhead consoles, “Alright!”

“Torque secured.”

The Jaeger kneeled on its one foot and pivoted its body towards left, the right arms extended forward, releasing the vessel on the other part of the ocean; away from the roaring Kaiju. The Jaeger turned around and the two pilots quickly threw a right punch aiming towards its jaw. The Kaiju had a loud howl as it staggered backward, falling into the waters. The Kaiju quickly stood up in an attempt to attack the Jaeger, however, the machine had already mustered another blow, coming from the left arm. Smashing the creature's chest, Yuta and Mark both groaned while they raised both of their arms up in the air; fist closed to pound on the flat part of its sharp snout. The Kaiju’s head dropped into the waters; its mouth lighted up a sharp color of blue as it exhaled underneath the surface of the sea. It rose up again, and let out an angry shriek, advancing towards the Jaeger and smashing itself towards its torso. Yuta raised his left arm in defense, but the Kaiju was too fast, ripping some of the parts of the Jaegers arm. The pilots staggered on their places; the system beeping rapidly, they both shouted.

“Hyung! I’ll aim the missile! Hold the demon to its place!”

Yuta held its body; holding the sharp snout in place; the Kaiju protested against the stronghold of the machine. Gipsy Danger’s right arm transformed into a missile launcher; a circular beam ready to be launched. “Get it!”

The missile was launched. Three shots. They smashed right against the chest of the Kaiju. The monster gave a loud screech and fell from its back. The waters gave a loud splash after the downfall of the Kaiju.

From the base, Taeil read the beeping lights from his holographic scene. “Discharge reading, Sir. Plasma cannon released in the peninsula ten miles of Manila.”

Marshal Lau pressed in the p.a system, “Rangers, what the fuck just happened?”

Yuta smirked and pressed onto the p.a button from the overhead console to answer back, “Kaiju down, Sir. That makes that our seven.”

Marshal law yelled through the microphone, “You disobeyed a direct order! The plan is to avoid the Kaiju from entering the waters of Manila!”

Mark answered back, “We did, Sir! We released a launch and saved the vessel from being crumpled!”

Marshal Lau’s nostrils flared up, “Go back to the base, Now!”

The rangers grinned at each other. They had made the Marshal annoyed, again. Yuta pressed the button, “Okie dokie, Sir.” He pressed the button again, to cancel the p.a message transmitting to the base.

Taeil cried out loud, “Kaiju signature sending. I repeat, the Kaiju is still alive!”

Marshal Lau pressed the microphone again, yelling, “Rangers! The thing survived! Grab the vessel and return to your post now!”

Gipsy stood there in the waters, the two pilots frantically searching for the Kaiju. The waters glowed with the Kaiju’s blood; the ocean colored a fascinating shade of cerulean blue; despite its aesthetic appearance, it was highly toxic. The Marshal’s voice boomed into their p.a systems, “Gipsy, get out of there now!”

Gipsy lingered right, then left. It was still and quiet. Only the violent blowing of the winds were heard. Then, suddenly the creature attacked, taking the pilots in surprise. The Kaiju roared angrily and clawed at the machine. Gipsy held in the Kaiju’s mouth, controlling its attempt to eat out the machinery. Mark and Yuta grunted, as they swayed back and forth from the Kaiju’s impact.

Yuta yelled, “I got this!” He swung his arm, the machine’s fist shifting into a missile launcher. He then made an attack, taking a movement from below. The Kaiju swatted the arm then lashed with its sharp snout onto its shoulders, clawing the arm away from the source. Yuta screamed loud in pain as he held his left arm. The radar from Gipsy’s head beeped rapidly, the screen blinking a bold text of ‘Alert’.

Mark yelled through the mic, “Taeil hyung, we’ve been attacked!”

Taeil from the base, typed in. Gipsy’s figure flashing on his screen. He turned towards the Marshal, “Left arm, gone, Sir.”

Gipsy’s arm was clawed out by the Kaiju. With another attempt, the monster chomped on the arm, ripped it away and threw it towards the ocean. The Kaiju went mad; berserk; screeching as it violently attacked the Jaeger. Its right claw lashed onto the Jaeger’s head; where both pilots were stationed. The glass shattered as the Kaiju roared. Mark and Yuta swayed, ragged breath leaving their lips. The Kaiju have gone through the hull. It clawed up and managed to destroy the right side of the Jaeger’s head. Opening from Mark’s side.

Mark threw a panicked look towards Yuta, “Hyung, listen! You have to--”

Mark shouted loudly. Desperate, full of panic. He was so helpless. Mark wasn’t even able to finish his sentences as the Kaiju snatched his figure apart from the metal supporting him, his body flying away. Yuta cried out loud, “NO!”

From the hull, Mark’s spot was now empty, replaced with electricity and fires. Yuta screamed in agony, “NO!” He grunted as he was electrified. The computers were beeping rapidly. Red Alert. Alarms wailing. Yuta bit down his lips as he tried to raise his injured arm, transferring the circular plot on his right palm. The Kaiju gave a loud roar, advancing towards Gipsy, again. Pushing the machinery with brutal force. Yuta grunted as he staggered from his post. The monster growled and placed its sharp snout on the Jaeger’s chest. Yuta screamed, as jolts of pain shooted out his body. Yuta aimed the missile launcher. The creature was dominating, clawing and smashing against the Jaeger’s body. It roared after a huge attack. Then, again and again.

“Missile Loading”

The Kaiju chewed on the Jaeger as if it was a feast. Yuta yelled again. Then, he aimed directly at the gigantic monster’s chest. Three shots. There was a massive, blinding light. Darkness. Its body parts littered everywhere.

From Taeil’s screen, the red dot has disappeared in a blink of the eye. “Second missile, launched, Sir. No Kaiju signature noted.” He typed in again, “I’m not getting any signals.”

“I cannot reach Yuta, Sir.”

The Marshal walked away from the base. A sullen look painted his face. It was not a time to celebrate; they did ward off the Kaiju. However, they had lost another brave soul. Mark Lee fought until his very last breath.

Bali, Indonesia

“Grandma! Look what I found on the shores!”

The little girl showed her grandmother an old, rusty, robot toy; a Jaeger to be precise. Her grandmother gave her a pleasant smile, standing up from picking up shells. “That is absolutely beautiful my dear.”

“It is mama! I wanted to see one Jaeger someday!” She beamed at her grandmother, clapping her hands excitingly. Then the elderly shushed her, “Okay, you will! Now let us pick some shells, shall we?”

The younger girl nodded and crouched down and helped her grandmother to pick up several shells. All were pearly white, some with a tint of orange and pink, some long, others short. Loud footsteps were heard from the distance. The young girl peeked up, her eyes widening at the sight. She cried out loud, “MAMA!” The younger had wished for a Jaeger, and a Jaeger appeared. Mark 03, Gipsy Danger. Clattered and destroyed.

The grandmother raised a hand on her mouth. Surprised. “Oh my heavens.”

Gipsy staggered with every step it took. The machine creaking. Then suddenly, it fell on its knees and made a drop towards the ground. The machine powered down after the fall. The two ran towards the machine quickly. The elderly woman flailed her left arm, “Stay here!”

The grandmother approached the hull cautiously. Then she saw a figure crawling from the machine’s gigantic head. Yuta panted as he struggled to get out of the Jaeger. He quickly stood up. He looked like he was run down several times. His left arm suit was already busted, burned to the extent; pools of blood dripping down his forearm. From his left bicep were several vertical wounds. It was red and bloody. His helmet was cracked and staggered, almost collapsing. Everything was circulating, he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t clearly hear the words from the elderly woman. He felt as if he was drowning. Muffled voices. All he could think of was his younger brother, Mark Lee.

Yuta whispered while he turned around, “Mark... Mark? (Y/N)?” His legs couldn’t carry his weight anymore and he collapsed on the ground.

“Darling, quick! Call for help!”

The elderly woman held his face, “It’s gonna be okay. Hold on for a little longer.”

Could he hold on a little longer?

“Where the hell is Yuta?” You shook Taeil’s shoulder, tears welling in your eyes. The news of their expedition has made it through the Underbase. It was already four in the morning, yet, no signs of Yuta. No signs of Gipsy. This is what you feared. You did spend a lovely and memorable night with the love of your life but, is this the price you have to pay? Your fingers trembled, as you observed Taeil type in his keyboard. “Taeil, please find him.”

“I’m trying my best (Y/N). For now, calm down.”

“How can I calm down Taeil?”

“(Y/N), you know exactly how dangerous our job entails. Death chases after us, I hope you are aware of that.” You are. You’re not just ready to let go of him yet. Not now, never. You stood up again, this time, you roamed around the base. Looking at every monitor in sight; just to divert your attention. You told the marshal that you won’t be deploying bases not until they give out any information about Yuta. Hong Kong could wait. You would be needed if there is a brought mutilated Jaeger. After all, you have already settled with the restoration team and upgrades of the Jaegers. You were once a pilot, too, but Yuta was concerned about your health. The Jaeger tech is too much for your health; it almost had your ECG line flat that one moment you had a mission in China. You were also responsible with the cadet selection and combat training.

You blinked hard. Throat tightening. You gave an abstracted look then, took a deep breath and slowly initiated expiration. You felt the relaxation of your diaphragm and your lungs pushed out air. You licked your lips; it was already dry. The holographic screen of Taeil showed the maps of Manila, he zoomed in to the nearby countries surrounding the country. Tracing any signs of the Jaeger or Yuta. A staff from the other side of the room suddenly alerted the people inside the vicinity.

“A report came from Indonesia, Sir Moon.”

Taeil gave you a quick glance. “That guy has nine lives. Don’t worry, we’ll find him, (Y/N).”

Taeil’s voice boomed inside the control base, “Coordinates?”

“8.3405° S, 115.0920° E”

“Where is the call coming from?”

“Seminyak, Sir.”

“Prepare the chopper now!”

You approached Taeil’s figure, “I’ll come with your team!”

“(Y/N), no.”

“Why not?”

“Orders are orders, (Y/N).” You whipped your head towards the direction of the voice. Marshal Lau. You reacted, “Yuta is my boyfriend, I need to see him!”

The marshal nodded, “I know. But It could crowd the chopper. It’s much better if you’ll wait here.”

You tried to argue back but the marshal held up a hand, silencing you. He gave you a curt nod, “Orders, (Y/N).”

You stormed out in frustration. Fuck orders.

Yuta narrowed his eyes. He felt really exhausted. The elderly assisted him and managed to remove the suit from him; to let his body to breathe. The nasty wounds clinging onto his skin. Yuta tried to move his body, but he cannot move his distal muscles. And his fingers are shaking uncontrollably. He tried to remember when was the last time he had taken in his medication; one a.m, and he drank it while looking at your peaceful sleeping figure on his bed. The medication he had taken has already subsided. Now, he is suffering with uncontrollable muscle shaking, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He felt helpless, adding the fact that Mark was already gone. He wanted to diminish out. After all, his time was already set in a time bomb; time for Yuta was expensive, and there is no such thing as bargaining. The medics around the island checked upon him, and he didn’t sustain a concussion; but the mission surely left him an ugly scar. Thoughts swirling around his mind; was it really worth it to be a Jaeger pilot? Is it time to diminish the Jaeger tech of his system? The fire, determination, urge to kill and to protect the world from the enormous beast has threatened to fall down the day he piloted Gipsy Danger alone, and collapsed at the beach somewhere in Indonesia. Mark’s death is still taking a toll on him.

A large helicopter. Boeing CH-47 Chinook. Hovering in the air above the clinic he is currently housing at. It was painted a deep green and yellow, a heavy, military aircraft with a figure in dark glasses and helmet hunched over the controls. It swung around over the site, it's blades beating the air. Then settled on the ground. Yuta narrowed his eyes at the aircraft before him. The familiar emblem caught his eyes; a large sword that struck a Kaiju’s chest. He walked out of the site and approached the man that had jumped out of the vehicle.

“Nakamoto Yuta.”

Yuta called upon the name of the higher up before him, “Marshal.”

The Marshal nodded, “Now's not the time to mourn. My number one priority is your health.”

Yuta nibbled on his lips, “It’s always been our oath marshal. Mourn later, Kill Kaijus.”

“I also lost a brave soul. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Yuta furrowed his brows, then looked towards the Marshal intently, “Marshal, I have something to tell you concerning my health.”

The helicopter they rode flew high in the air. Passing through the familiar cities of Taiwan, China, Singapore, then they finally arrived in South Korea. Military time, 1800 hrs. Jaeger Station, South Korea.

It was raining hard. Busy. The people at the bay were occupied. Some are pushing the Kaiju specimen drenched in formuline in a large glass dome towards the southwest direction in the laboratory. The marshallers were waving their glow sticks guiding the arriving helicopter towards the helipad. Military men in raincoats walked back and forth. Trucks and machineries are busy. Cargo ships at the nearest dock. You stalked out of the base, a large black umbrella covering you from the rain. You were still frustrated that Marshal Lau hasn’t let you go on their search rescue. The anxiety is slowly killing you. You have heard rumors about solo piloting, and it has a backlash. All you know, it could affect Yuta’s health. A whistle caught your attention.

“Looking good, Miss (Y/N). Can I have a taste?”

“Fuck off.”

You didn’t know the guy and so, you ignored and paid no attention to him. Your world wasn't just experiencing the attacks of Kaijus, there are creatures that are jerks, scattered around the world, Misogynists. They are of a different breed, but they don't differ as they share the same attitude. You clutched your work laptop tightly against your chest. Your long black coat swaying against the violent winds and followed your figure from behind. Your black combat boots made a loud splash every stride you took. You looked up and saw the Boeing CH-47 Chinook ready to take off. Your hair was swept away due to the winds coming from the blades of the aircraft. You stood there and waited expectantly. You felt queasy and uneasy. The staircase descended down the floor and Marshal Lau approached you. You handed him the extra umbrella you took with you, with shaky hands. He gave you a curt nod and opened the other umbrella for the person following him from behind.

“Oh my God.”

The mashal spoke, “(Y/N), Yuta needs to be sent to the infirmary--”

You saw how Yuta limped. His injuries are seen from afar. Your eyes welled up as you approached his figure cautiously. You cupped his face, his deep, sad eyes staring back into yours. That wasn’t the same eyes you were used to seeing; his eyes were your favorite; it felt so alive, charismatic, full of determination, but those staring back at you are just as black as midnight. Empty. You took a sharp intake of breath. You leaned in, temples touching, you closed your eyes and whispered. “I thought I lost you. Hell, I was so afraid I wasn’t gonna see you again.” The tears finally fell down. It was so melancholic. With the rain, your pounding heart, the man you loved the most stood there looking as lost and hurt. This wasn’t the life you wanted.

Yuta stared at you intently. Never have he seen someone as ethereal, standing confidently despite the storm paving its way on the base. He observed you, you had blue highlights on your hair, pinkish lips that are kissable, deep eyes—unreadable. It hurt him to see you hurting too. He tried to force a smile, showing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. You sobbed into his chest, “I don’t know what I will do without you.”

Yuta whispered, “You should start standing on your toes. It’ll hurt you more if you rely on me a lot.”

A fortnight. Underbase.

“It's a surprise that there isn’t a Kaiju attack these fortnight. Are they on hibernating mode or something?”

“Trust me marshal, they are preparing for a bigger attack. This isn’t the time we should be letting our guards down.”

Taeyong dissected the heart specimen that lay on the table. Scalpel and tweezers. It was still fresh, its arteries a glowing color of cerulean, the veins are colored a deep crimson. However, it stinks of toxicity and ammonia. Taeyong’s arms are drenched with Kaiju blood and it covered most of the tattoos that lingered on both of his forearms. Sicheng, on the other hand, is writing vigorously on the blackboard. Chalks and dust. Formulas. Numerous data.

Sicheng voiced out. He pushed the glasses falling from the bridge of his nose, “The Kaiju attacks from the last months as by my calculations were about two and that is the maximum. However, as I’ve outlooked the data given by the other labs, the attacks could multiply and the frequency of Kaiju ambushes could rise for about three or worse four. From Sydney it was two weeks, then a week, then days. No time from preparations, I say. Ergo, your rangers should always prepare for a Kaiju attack from the coast. A category four.”

“Doctor Sicheng, I am about to plan on to group a 2,400 pound of nuclear bomb in the Breach to stop the attacks. Please give me more precise data, not just a prediction.”

Sicheng cleared his throat, “Numbers never lie marshal. They are the most accurate thing and never close to a prediction. The frequency of attacks will increase to the point we couldn’t stand their domination anymore, and--”

Johnny finished the sentence for the doctor, “We’re dead. Alas.”

Sicheng lifted his chin, “Exactly, Lieutenant Johnny.”

Taeyong smirked. Kaiju mucus drenching his surgical gloves, “You speak like a mighty doctor.”

Sicheng gave him a quizzical look, “I speak the truth. Continue on examining Dr. TY.” He clasped his fingers and headed towards his digital monitor, “Here comes the good news.”

The marshal spoke, “We are listening, doctor.”

“You see, the Breach is the gateway. And it is quite confusing as to how the hell is the Kaiju going to different countries like Australia, Alaska, Manila, Japan this comes up to the conclusion that there might be a new portal or much more, several gateways for these monsters. However,” He paused and clicked the enter key, a deep portal showed at the screen, “They only came from one source. Here, deep and close to the Marianas Trench lying underneath the oceans of the Pacific. We disrupt the throat for it to widen, don’t worry, that is its natural structure. It is beyond flexible for the monsters to go through. So, If we disrupt the gateway, that is where we drop the bomb and boom.”

Taeyong butted in, “But we could rely on much, limited data. Hear me out marshal.”

Johnny and Marshal Lau turned towards the other pink-haired doctor, “Do you see how unique these creatures are?”

“They’re not--”

“Some would look like a lizard, next would look like a deadass fish. But despite their appearance, they do share one commonality, they have the same exact DNA.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes, “What are you implying now, doctor?”

“Cloning.”

Yuta entered the laboratory after listening to their complicated discussions. His voice startling the men inside. “I will be piloting Echo Panther, Marshal. That is where you will attach the bombs right?”

“Yuta, Why all of a sudden?”

Yuta gave a half shrug. “This is the best thing I could do, marshal.”

“You’ll die, idiot!”

Yuta deadpanned, “I’m a fucking Jaeger pilot and I’ll die as one. That is something I should boast about.”

The marshal tried to calm his nerves. “This isn’t the right time to boast!”

Yuta gave a solemn look. After the incident, he contemplated that participating in this mission is something that could cut his time-bomb. He made sure to spend his remaining days making himself busy, pushing you aside from his systems, even if it's painful for his part. It was a dick and dumb move, but he knew spending his limited days with you would cause damage to you and to him as well. He made sure to avoid you. “Marshal, I told you that I loved my mother right?”

Marshal Lau crossed his brows, “Yes.”

“And do you know what she did to prove her love to me? She sacrificed herself, for my own fucking sake.” He paused, fist clenching. The tremors are back, again. The marshal gave him a concerned look. Yuta continued on, “Even if I choose not to participate in the mission, I would still die, it's all useless, marshal. Living is something out of my vocabulary.”

“This suggestion of yours will lead you to your death. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I know, but if it means keeping everyone safe, keeping my (Y/N) safe, it’s worth everything even if it costs me.”

“What about (Y/N)?” Yuta didn’t answer him. Instead, he gave a rose drenched in resin and a flash drive.

Yuta breathed, “Give that to her after this mission.”

The three of you entered the facility. Then the marshal took a left turn, towards the base’s large elevator. Marshal Lau spoke up, “We will take a look at the facility first, then (Y/N) will take you to Echo Panther. Copy that Yuta?”

“Yes Sir.”

You snapped back, turning your head towards the marshal and your boyfriend. “What Echo Panther? Is there something I missed out marshal?”

The door was about to close when a frantic screaming interrupted you from pushing the buttons of the lift closed.

“Coming through!” Two pinked haired doctors scrambled inside the enormous lift. They pushed a Kaiju specimen through, crowding the space. The marshal pushed the button this time, giving you a meaningful look. Yuta felt the glass behind his back. The doe-eyed doctor wailed, “You are still injured, Yuta!” The elevator gave a sudden jolt, and descended downwards.

Yuta cajoled. Smiling wide. You were stunned at Yuta’s behavior. The time you saw him get down at the chopper since his last mission there was only one word that could describe him; lost. But the guy in front of you is really different, let alone he is acting as if nothing happened. “It's been a fortnight, doctor. I’m perfectly fine.”

You eyed Yuta. He’s been acting distant around you, and he seemed to be keeping things to himself. He was also acting differently around you; he never allowed you to nurse his injuries, or he never initiated intimate contacts with you unlike before. He acts completely different as if you weren’t molded as one. Dr. Taeyong spoke, “Just call me TY.” Yuta eyed the Kaiju tattoo lingering on Taeyong’s arm.

Yuta continued to eye the tattoo and spoke towards the doctor, “Is that Tailjaw?”

Dr. Taeyong smirked, “A good eyesight you have. Yes it is. Truly one of the fascinating things I have ever seen.”

“Mark and I have taken them down in 2018. A category 3 as I could recall.” You blinked hard. Yuta made sure to not waste some dead air to let you interrupt. You tried to initiate a conversation but you were cut mid-way. You gritted your teeth

Dr. Sicheng interjected, “The only thing that fascinated you TY is that it’s heart still pounds even after its three long hour death.”

Taeyong spatted back, “And that was really fascinating, tell me otherwise or I’ll fight you Dong Sicheng!”

The elevator’s door with a loud hiss. You and Marshal Lau have stepped out. Yuta gave Dr. Ty a pat on the shoulders, “Kaijus were never fascinating, doctor. They are killers, ruthless blue-blooded creatures.” And he stepped out.

He followed the two figures ahead of him, “Your research team is quite peculiar.”

Marshal spoke, “The two of them can outnumber a whole squad of researchers. They are pretty talented and brainy.”

The marshal gave Yuta a look, “Knowledge is always the outermost defense, Yuta.”

Pissed is an understatement, you couldn’t describe the anger boiling inside your gut. You pressed a series of codes on the biometric attached to the wall. The electronic beeps after your taps. The heavy secured door opened. Marshal Lau raised his right arm, “Welcome to the Underbase, again.”

People from the Underbase clamored around. Gulf carts beeping. Machineries wailing. Three tall Jaegers stood on each of the base’s corners. There are lights everywhere. Indistinctive radio sounds and chatters.Yuta turned around the base, his face awe-stricken. Above the large doors was a large digital clock.

The marshal’s voice boomed, “War clock. I hope we could reset it after your mission.”

Yuta narrowed his eyes, “I guarantee that.”

“We are lucky that they aren’t attacking, it surely gave us time to prepare.”

You interjected, “Excuse me marshal. But Yuta couldn’t participate in a mission. Can’t you see? He is still injured for heaven’s sake!”

The marshal looked at you, “He reported to me and said that he was perfectly fine.”

You stopped in your tracks and yanked Yuta’s arm, he voiced out, “Why?”

“What the fuck is running inside your mind Yuta?”

He looked straight into your eyes. No signs of love nor light. He glanced at you as if you were just an ordinary colleague, “Nothing. We should be going.” He left you there astounded.

“It is. That is Tanker Shoalin. Assembled in Hong Kong, one of the greatest. Large titanium core, powered digitally. That machine eats up a lot of diesel. That will run up for your defense.” The marshal trailed. Yuta glanced up to see Tangker Shoalin. It was standing a hundred foot tall. It colored a deep color of indigo. Shimmering due to metal. “She’s piloted by the Wong brothers. Lucas, Kun and Hendery. Don’t be deceived by their soft looks, they are precise fighters, deadly. Defended the borders of China, nine times. They used their signature move, the triple tiger claw.”

“I knew of that technique. That was powerful.” He glanced at the brothers on the bench. Pretty busy with their own businesses. They wore a leather jacket, and their hair was colored a vibrant color of violet, pink and green. From Yuta’s left, a heavy duty grey Jaeger stood.

The marshal pointed at it. “That one was the last of the first generation Mark 01 models, Hunger Mercenary. It may look as if it could be slammed down easily. But don’t be fooled, Yuta. That one is a bloodlust killing machine.” He paused, “Those two,” he pointed at the two men in a deep army green suit, “Doyoung and Jaehyun piloted the Hunger Mercenary.”

He stared at the figure of Kim Doyoung and Jung Jaehyun, “Yes, I have heard of them. New York based. Deadly killers.”

“Exactly. Gates under their watch remain unbreachable.”

You stared at Yuta. Eyes narrowing. He was observing the first generation Mark model. Then a booming voice caught all of your attention. Lieutenant Johnny approached the marshal, “Marshal. A pleasant morning.”

The marshal nodded, “To you too, Johnny.”

The lieutenant blinked. He stood tall, he had a new cut; an undercut. “Hey, Yuta. Oh, hey (Y/N)” Yuta nodded. You gave the lieutenant a faint smile. Johnny raised a brow; he is quite surprised at both of your behaviiors. You were both inseperable; clingy and full of love. The couple before him acted as if they despised each other. Johnny cleared his throat and gave Yuta a sullen look, “I’m sorry for the loss of your brother.”

Yuta only nodded. The marshal spoke again, “His cousin, Haechan will be your co-pilot in Echo Panther towards the Breach. That machine is as mighty as flash, quite fast and the last generation of the Mark 06.”

Yuta narrowed his eyes, “We’d be compatible. I’ve ran combat against Haechan before.”

“That’s a good thing. In that way we could stop the monsters from going in and out of our world as if they own the place. The Russians have given us enough resources such as nuclear missiles to be attached to Jaeger’s back.”

You clicked your tongue, “So you have a plan? What is my purpose then? To be an ornament?”

The marshal smiled, “An ornament is a fancy word, (Y/N). You are a warrior and so you will be backing the machine up to successfully enter the Breach.”

You snapped, “How could I back the Jaeger marshal? When you keep your plans to yourselves? My boyfriend doesn’t even talk to me as if I’ve got his fucking tongue.”

Marshall Lau blinked. This was the reason why he is opposed to Yuta’s request; you will be enraged once you find out. The Marshal called for Johnny’s attention, “Let us go to the control base.”

You raised your voice in annoyance, “Fucking hell, marshal. I feel like a fucking joke!”

Yuta cleared his throat, “Let’s go.”

“I won’t. Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Johnny fidgeted and bowed his head awkwardly towards Yuta, “The mission’s tomorrow. Let me know if you need something.”

Yuta answered back, “Thank you, sir.”

You cleared your throat, “Well? If you won’t talk, then I’m out.”

This is what they feared. What Yuta feared.

Your boots clanked every step you took. Yuta followed you from behind. There are electric sparks everywhere. The people were busy. Welding. Yuta heaved a sigh. Echo Panther stood there; tall, mighty and beautiful as ever. Beside it was Gipsy Danger, its familiar yellow windshield is noticeable from a distance. Memories came flooding his mind again, where he used to pilot the machine back in their glory days, with his best friend, his brother, Mark Lee. “She’s beautiful as ever.”

You tried to conceal your annoyance. “The last among the Mark 03. I made some major improvements on her model. Her nuclear core is powered tremendously, more stronger than before. There are weapons added, missile launches, laser ammos, et cetera.”

“She looked so new.”

“Better than new.” Yuta gave you a look. A look that you wish to see everyday. It is a glance that a man ever gave to a woman he truly admires, he truly loved.

“How do you like your new toy now, handsome boy?” Taeil walked on the metal platform. Yuta grinned widely and tackled the operator.

“Good to see you, my man, Taeil.”

Taeil chucked, “Good old times. Where the hell have you been?”

“The infirmary,” Yuta inquired, “Ready for tomorrow?”

“I’m always ready.”

You stalked away; annoyance taking a toll on you. You glanced behind your shoulder and made sure to raise your voice for him to hear, “We better talk Nakamoto Yuta. I’m tired of guessing what the hell in running inside that pretty head of yours.”

Yuta entered his room, it looked similar, untouched, unfolded. It was a fortnight since he’d last slept in his room. Last night he was here; he was making love to you. Holding you close to him. Kissing passionately as if there is no tomorrow. But things have changed. Yuta cozened himself with vain hopes and fake smiles, acting as if everything’s fine. The room looked lonely, empty, rusty. He turned to look at you. His eyes unfathomable, “What is it that you want to know?”

You let out an exasperated smile, “Stop acting so inconspicuous. I know something’s going on.”

“There is. Kaiju everywhere. I’m sure you know of these, (Y/N)”

You yelled, “I’m not fucking stupid, Yuta! Do you really enjoy doing this? Acting as if I’m not existing? This is bullshit, Yuta! Stop acting like a dick!”

There was a long silence. It was deafening.

Yuta raised his brows, “I don’t understand why you are acting like this, (Y/N)”

“I’m acting like this because of you! You’re acting like a jerk!” You called out. Your fists balled up to fists; shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes glistened with tears.

Yuta chuckled bitterly, “Oh. I had no choice.”

Tears started to fall from your eyes.“Were you trying to destroy us?” You wiped your tears aggressively, inhaling rapid breaths, “How do you sleep at night?”

Yuta let out a long, slow, exhale and ran a finger on his dirty blonde locks, “What I’m doing is for us, (Y/N). You’ll understand.”

“Did you expect this to turn out better? Yuta, what you are doing is bullshit!”

“I never meant to hurt you, you know?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you did. For the weeks that passed, I was longing for you! I wanted to take care of you, but all you did was to push me away!” You sobbed, vision blurring with tears, “Tell me where did I go wrong, huh? Yuta, tell me!”

Yuta exhaled, giving you a cold stare, “Aren't you tired? Can we just stop this and give our hearts rest?”

You choked back your tears. The universe you are both in—is indeed in chaos. However, that chaos didn’t stop both of your feelings for each other. It was a feeling so rare, raw, full of love. This universe both you are in, gave a lesson to make introductions for lovers that are destined to do great things together, to seize the limited moment the universe has to give to the both of you. Yet the introductions can take time, can be staggered over weeks, months or years. In those times, you and Yuta have sorted out things; to not further complicate everything and stress each other out. This is what you’ve feared, when the time comes, the time of separation, the downfall of the love you both have established for so long. The pain ransacked your systems. It acts like a focusing lens; memories have flooded your mind, flashing towards the next. You saw that one time; the purity of his love, his words echoing in your ears; that you were the only one lover for his lifetime. Then all of a sudden, the jittery feeling collapsed.

Your vision is blurred; you tried to hold anything to prevent you from collapsing. This wasn’t the ending you wished. Never in your life wished to have this dreadful moment; you slapped your cheeks. In attempt to slap out of the paranoia your mind is molding in; but failed. What you are seeing, hearing, feeling—they are all fucking true. The piercing pain, it is present. He approached your figure, you took a step backwards. His breath fanned your face, “I’m already tired, (Y/N). Let go of me, remove me from your system as if I never occupied it in the first place. I don’t deserve you nor you deserved me.”

You shook your head. “No. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I am not, (Y/N). I need air, having you with me, suffocates me.”

You exhaled and looked intently at his eyes. You sounded wounded and incredulous. Your voice is cracking, your heart pounding hard. You tried to reach out for him but he took a step back, “Please, please just give me another chance.”

Yuta stood there with an unreadable expression plastered on his face. He whispered,“Leave me alone, (Y/N).”

You blinked. Your chest is heaving up and down. You couldn't help but compare the night with his own state of mind. Just like those clouds, your insides were in chaos. A mess. “Why? Yuta, why?” You tried to reason out this unbearable burning but your mind is in an endless swirl of darkness. Everything felt so confusing, a joke; just like a jumbled set of a puzzle.

“The one you love most isn't always the one you spend your life with. I’m not the guy for you.”

You blinked. His expression darkened. You tried to convince him, it might just be Mark’s death as to why he is acting this way.“You were always the one, Yuta. Where did I go wrong? I will try to change, please.. Just don’t.. I love you so much.” Your emotions turn jagged, insides tight.

His tone was cold. “I know you love me, but I'm sick of lying when I say it back.”

You gasped and clutched your chest. Yuta did everything. Almost everything. Disobeyed a direct order, fucked his subjects, fucked you, loved you, killed, lost someone, everything. But, making you cry wasn’t part of his agenda. He had his reasons, he loved you so much. But for him, this is the thing he should be doing. He had already made a mistake, and he surely doesn’t want to commit it again. He disobeyed the orders of the marshal just to save the people from the vessel. If he just listened, Mark could've been breathing up to this day, fighting with him. But, what he did was for the greater good, and choosing has always come with a price and a consequence.

What he did will surely give you a scar. But he would rather choose to be hated by his love rather than having you suffer forever. Waves of melancholy pooling over you. You bit down your lip, and dropped your gaze. “How could you do this to me? After everything we’ve been through?

You raised your head and saw Yuta. His figure is far from you; away from your reach. He graciously stalked around his room; topless. Several vertical scars lingered on his shoulder blades, his biceps, on his latissimus dorsi. That was the scars from his battle. The scar that reminded him of his loss. You stared at his figure intently. He had defined muscles; his abs are sticking out, his overall physique is a viewpoint and enough evidence of how well-trained and strong his body is. A body of a true ranger. A Jaeger Pilot. Both of your eyes locked.

"People change, and people grow. And I think we just grew apart."

“That is stupid, Yuta!”

“Once, a long time ago, I thought I loved you. I do, but everything has its ends."

You were a big fan of literature. Yuta knew that. And one poem struck to your mind,

"Of all nights, today's the one that had to break my heart fully and irreversibly."--A. M. Wolowicz

Yuta had molded your heart, took care of it, guarded it. But he was also the one who crushed it to pieces to the point, you were so lost, you can’t think of how to mend it back in one.

Military Time: 2100 hours.

“Marshal, the nuclear has been attached to Echo Panther’s back.”

“That’s good.”

“There’s one thing.”

The marshal stopped on his tracks, “What is it?”

“About Yuta.”

The marshal gave the staff a meaningful stare, “Is anything wrong?”

The staff shook his head, no. “The ranger wants to tell you that he’ll be stopping taking in his medication. And he also said to not engage his pod.”

The marshal narrowed his eyes. “Why so?”

“He didn’t disclose anymore, sir.”

The marshal exhaled, “Understood. Is the Jaeger ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where are the movements?”

“Along Hong Kong, sir. Then, deep in the breach.”

“How many signatures are noted?”

“Three, sir. Category five.”

“Gather all the Jaegers.”

“Marshal.”

The marshal turned around and saw your figure. You look dishevelled, ruined, broken.

“How can I help you, (Y/N).”

“Place me in the control base.”

“Will do.”

“Movement in the Breach. Double event.”

The alarm wailed inside the control lab. There was a movement, after two weeks of calm, the demons are now starting to strike. Category four. Taeil looked at his flashing monitor, a doughnut in hand. He called in all the staff. The pilots of Hunger Mercenary; Jung Jaehyun and Kim Doyoung are in the base; in their deep green metal suits. Jaehyun and Doyoung stood tall and glorious. The Wong brothers; Lucas, Kun and Hendery, pilots of Taker Shaolin, has worn their glossy red suits. Hairs are noticeable from afar. Your figure is standing near the consoles. You searched for the familiar figure of Yuta. And there he stood, beside Haechan both in you midnight black metal suits.

Taeil walks in the base, back and forth. “Double signatures. Code name Tailcleaver and Thornbreaker and one, unidentified. They’ll reach Hong Kong in an hour.”

Marshal Lau’s voice boomed, alerting all the staff, “Evacuate the city, shut down the bridges. All people should be in refuge. Hunger Mercenary,” he looked at Jaehyun and Doyoung, “Tanker Shaolin,” then towards the Wong brothers, “I want you guard the harbor. Echo,” Then he gave a glance towards Yuta and Haechan, “Stay back at the miracle mile. You are the final option, we cannot afford to lose you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go.”

The metals are thudding as the choppers are set to fly out the three Jaegers to the coast lines. There are indistinct radio chatters heard. The pilots are alert, adrenaline pumping in. The orders of the marshal booming in their p.a systems, “Guys be alert. These are category 4s, large in both size and weight.

Jaehyun spoke, “We are near the coast line. Disengaging transport.” The choppers rope disengaged from their Jaeger, and the machine descended downwards. The Wong brother’s have already disengaged their transport as well; their Jaeger dropping onto the oceans. The Jaegers walked along the oceans; creating massive waves after their strides. The night was calm; eerie. Lucas sensed a movement from his right; three o’ clock. The Kaiju was swimming silently, moving fast. The Kaiju looked similar to a large lizard. Its feet were a bed of gloopy pustules; grotesque. Its legs are as thick as tree trunks. The Kaiju’s skin is so thick; leathery; with occasional blue scales lingering on its back. They also do have ginormous torsos, body covered in scales. Each step it took, made the ground shake. A roar. Height tall as a skyscraper. Teeth like rows of ebony daggers. Small beady, ruthless eyes searching for its enemy. The doctor wasn’t wrong when he said the Kaijus were adapting; they were surprisingly fast, agile, strong. The stench of raw flesh on it's humid breath, a glowing blue light illuminated its throat. Flaring nostrils. It was thrashing its tail as it took a fast movement, taking the pilots by surprise. It stood up tall. An ear-splitting roar like thunder booming.

From the right; three o’ clock of the Wong brother’s Jaeger. The Kaiju appeared; its tail sweeping from left to right. Its roar resonated along the coastline. Then, it took a sudden turn, it’s tail aimed for the Jaeger’s torso. The pilots grunted; the hull they were shook at the attack. They recovered from its attack. Kun instructed to engage the nuclear missiles and aimed fully at its throat. There was a loud splash, followed by a spine-chilling shriek.

From the base, Taeil noted the missile launch. His fingers typing vigorously. “One down. The other one is attacking Jaehyun and Doyoung.”

The marshal squinted his eyes, “The unidentified?”

“It’s staying on the portal. Stationary.”

“And what are they up to?”

Taeil shrugged, “Echo Panther will find out about it soon,” he pressed a red button, “Dyoung, Jaehyun, what’s the situation?”

A string of curses unraveled from Jaehyun’s tongue, like a yarn unfurling. The Kaiju advanced. It's golden scales shimmered with hot anger along with it's dark, cold, beady eyes. Doyoung hissed as they staggered from its attack, their metal harness shaking at the aftermath. “This is one son of a bitch.” The Kaiju roared. Jaehyun and Doyoung took a swift punch. But the Kaiju struck up its sharp claw onto Hunger Mercenary’s torso; holding it to its place. The pilot grunted and shouted in pain. The Kaiju roared loudly; as its throat expanded; a glowing cerulean blue liquid spewed out from its mouth. Doyoung yelled, “Marshal, it purged out some type of acid. It is slowly penetrating through the hull.”

“Engage the nuclear bomb and attach to the pod. Now!”

From the base. You watched the electrocardiogram on the digital screens. The electrical signals of the pilots moving in a normal manner. The electrodes are placed on their chest to record the heart's electrical signals, of which causes the heart to beat. The signals are shown as waves. The Wong’s waves were moving fast a while ago; it signified stress. Jaehyun and Doyoung’s waves were also moving at a fast pace. Haechan and Yuta’s waves are moving calmly. Normal. You sighed as you fidgeted on your seat.

“Missile Launching. Alarm Code Red.”

Doyoung and Jaehyun were now heading for their security pod. The AI is counting to five and for five seconds, they have to get the hell out of the JAeger. Otherwise, they will be fried to death. There was a loud blast. The people from the city wailed. Panic. Chaos. Then, loud roar followed by a blinding light.

The marshal grumbled, “What is the health rate of the pilots of Hunger Mercenary?”

“Jaehyun passed out, he got delayed and thus, hit his head inside the pod.”

“Assessment?”

“Dyoung’s vital signs are normal. Jaehyun is unresponsive, I cannot read his pulse.”

“Engage the transport immediately. Lucas, Kun, Hendery, go back to the base. Now! Yuta, Haechan,”

The voice of the two pilots boomed onto the base’ speakers. Yuta’s voice sent a chill towards your spine. “Yes, sir.”

“Transport. Bring Echo Panther to the Breach.”

It's now or never. Yuta held only two choices; to die or to fucking die. And he wishes to die on a Jaeger rather than to die in a hospital

“All ports sealed, ready to submerge.”

“Roger that.”

“400 miles.”

Doctor TY held the microphone, “Remember, Yuta, Haechan. Attach a Kaiju onto your body for the Breach to open through. This is our only way to get through their den. Take the monsters as a bar code, kaching.”

The ocean was fascinating, deep, eerie, lonely. Such thrills as the ocean could only give. Only the deep sea could bring. Yuta and Haechan walked, their strides heavy, the fall was close. It was like a changing panorama if only the Kaiju’s were not present. A rocky wall, not twenty feet away from them, stood up like a sky-scraper, straight and tall. Here and there it was broken by fissures and caves. Everywhere it was festooned with sea vegetation--seaweed, kelp, anemones. All these, with coral that rose like Gothic architecture, were entrancing. Like a dream come true. Suddenly a Kaiju attacked them from behind.

Yuta groaned, as their metal harness shook from the attack. The alarms are wailing. Then, there was another swing penetrating through Yuta’s side. It shoots a piercing pain onto his legs. You gulped nervously, Yuta’s vital signs and rhythms are going berserk. Wild. Even though he had ended everything, the love you have for the man is still present, even if the pain is taking a toll, corrupting you to blindness.

Haechan furrowed his brows, “I cannot see anything. It's moving too fast!”

Yuta pushed the p.a button, “Taeil hyung, we can’t see anything!”

“To your left; one o’ clock!”

So far down in the ocean the sunlight is a soft diffuse glow. But for the most part, the ocean is dim, majority; dark. There were once golden rays from above; and it gave a warm blue hue of the waters; and the deeper the Jaeger went through; the darker the blue color they saw.

The rocks are now silhouettes in the dim. The headlight from the Jaager lit up like the glow of the heat from a winter campfire. There was a lone fish, invisible until it entered the feeble beam.

With the increasing pressure, Yuta and Haechan begin to feel like the water is becoming thicker, like soup. They glanced upward to the surface and their heart rate rose. It was so deep. The voice of caution whispered softly onto them; not to rise so fast, but it can't break through the scream for unfiltered rays and fresh air. Not, until, a Kaiju roared again and penetrated through their nuclear core.

“Let’s get this son of a bitch!” Yuta engaged the sword and struck it towards the head of the Kaiju. It screamed so loud. Its toxic cerulean blood is gushing onto its penetrated head. Echo Panter took a step while dragging the sword that struck the creatures head near the opening of the Breach. Where the lava spews. The Kaiju gave a loud screech. Its tail swooped from behind taking Yuta and Haechan by surprise.

“Echo, be alert of a sudden attack!”

The Kaiju swam far away from them. Then, attacked directly at the Jaeger, coming over at full speed. Yuta kneeled, then Haechan raised his arm; sword glistening. The Kaiju’s mouth was wide open; screams and shriek coming out of its throat. But one thing, a Kaiju does not have is a sense of control. If it strikes, they will, and no one’s gonna tell them to maneuver their ways. Haechan grinned as he ripped the Kaiju apart. Yuta grunted as he controlled his body; the aftershock of the attack was heavy for him. Yuta needs to be stable for the Jaeger not to fly out from the assault. Its cerulean blood clinging onto the body of the Jaeger. Haechan grunted, and folded his arms; finally striking and ripping the creature in half. The sword clamored. The people from the base felt glory.

“Echo, attach the Kaiju onto your body!”

Echo Panther moved and gripped the Kaiju’s head. The people from the base where expectant; glory is coming their way. Not until, Taeil sensed another. “Fuck.”

Yuta screamed into the p.a. The alarms were not wailing, “The hull is compromised! We can’t shoulder another attack!”

“Jump onto the Breach now!”

“Copy sir!”

All the systems are critical. There is a lot of fluid loss. Code Red. Yuta’s leg was crippled. They held the Kaiju carcass limping, towards the opening. The Breach is a meter away, then the category five Kaiju suddenly appeared in front of them. Haechan gulped. Yuta gritted his teeth in anger. Yuta looked at the younger pilot, “Let’s do this.” Haechan gave him a strong nod. Then, they jumped ahead, with the help of the rear jets. Tackling the Kaiju onto the portal. Then, Haechan lifted his arm and sliced thoroughly onto the Kaiju’s back. The Kaiju screeched. Haechan grunted. Yuta yelled, “Hold on!”

The Kaiju screeched out loud in pain. Its tail swinged upward, attacking the rear part of the Kaiju. Haechan and Yuta were already exhausted. Taeil saw how Haechan’s oxygen levels dropped down fast. His monitor beeping wildly. Half capacity. Haechan felt like drowning. Taeil moved to another monitor, typing as fast; to reroute everything. Yuta yelled, “Hold on! I will burn this motherfucker down!”

Yuta activated the heat purge. The nuclear core flashed; burning the chest of the Kaiju. The creature groaned, and wiggled against the Jaeger’s hold. But their tackles and grip was strong. The fire penetrated through the creature's chest reaching its back. It screeched again, then its eyes turned grey. It fell onto the Jaeger’s chest, limp, unalive. They have reached the opening, electricity around them were whirring.Taeyong was right; the only way to enter the portal is you fool the Breach into believing you are of its people. From Taeel’s screen, Echo Panther’s signature suddenly disappeared. They have now successfully entered the portal, The lair of the demons.

Oxygen from Haechan’s side was in a critical state. If he continues on, he will die there. And Yuta won’t allow that to happen; he pulled in his oxygen tube and attached it onto the younger’s suit. Haechan gasped for air. His helmet was fogging. He gave a faint smile, “You’ve done a good job, buddy. You know I was a jerk to (Y/N), but please guard her for me. I will finish this alone.” He pressed a series of buttons. Then, the metal harness whirred, sending Haechan’s figure inside the evacuation pod. Haechan’s eyes were heavy. He cannot decipher his surroundings. He gave Yuta a faint smile. He pushed a button then the pod was released ascending towards the surface.

Taeil voiced, “Yuta is giving Haechan his oxygen. He has already ejected the pod.”

You stood up quick. “What happened? What is happening?”

The marshal breathed, “It was his last will, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, “I don’t understand you marshal.” You pushed aside the marshal and spoke onto the microphone, “Yuta! Yuta!”

Yuta smiled, he heard your lovely voice, again. He blinked slowly; his oxygen levels were already low. He activated the nuclear core. There was a countdown. Five. Five seconds to live his life. He smiled, “I love you so much (Y.N). I’ll love you till the last rose dies.” Yuta initiated the reactor override. You blast the Jaeger to pieces; self destructing. The breach was like a large intestine. Pink and full of life. Electricity everywhere. The baby Kaiju chattered. Their beady eyes staring at the Jaeger. Then there was a loud blast. You were startled at the sound. The ECG line of Yuta was beeping, flat. You burst into tears, calling out his name on the microphone, “Yuta! No!”

It was Yuta’s last will. To save the world, to die in a Jaeger and to tell you how much he loved you. He did it. And he was content.

Five years.

It was five years of play-pretend. Finding ways to numb the pain. It was the start of the dark force. Tearing out the sewn paranoia you had. And replaying the pains of your past. You couldn’t forget about Yuta, he was your first love. Yet, after his death, all you could feel was the terrible pain; because of his disappearance. You would wake up in dawn just to cry till you could no longer lash out your tears. It was clarity that brought each of you, molded you to one, then had become one unit of two souls. But right now, your other half is gone, and you were left alone, numb, in pain. You decided to go to the bar. You felt high, in a daze, this was the thing you could do to forget that you are missing Yuta terribly. A guy pushed you in the bathroom, a tequila in your other hand. He began undressing you. You wanted this, to remove the pain. But was it worth doing? He kissed you. The scene was intimate; two people osculated. But in your mind; you wished it was only him, Nakamoto Yuta. He unbuckled his belt and sat on the toilet bowl. He pumped his member, it’s tip oozing. You immediately removed your pants, and panties and climbed onto his lap. You drank the last shots of your alcohol drink and began to thrust. The guy held your waist hard, guiding you up and down. He gave a moan of pleasure. You tilted your head back, tears flooding out of your eyes. You gripped on the metal pole overhead. You sobbed while thrusting deep. It wasn’t pleasure that you were feeling, it was fucking pain. Grief. It was five years of restlessness. If you could just pay to have him back, you would, but you couldn’t. He was now gone, permanently. You felt the pain glowing into your chest. You stopped thrusting and buried your head onto your fuck buddy’s shoulder.

He hugged you, “Are you good?”

You breathed. You felt bitter, “It’s been so long since I last hugged someone…I had forgotten how it feels like to be held.”

You grabbed the rose from Yuta. His words are still clear in your mind; he won’t stop loving you till the last rose dies. And so, he gave you an undying rose. You felt your vision blurred. You grabbed the flash drive and plugged it into your laptop. Yuta’s gorgeous face came to view and it made you wail. All you did was to cry.

[1] Formylove.mp4

“Hey love. This took me thirteen fucking tries, and I want to make sure this comes out perfect. Handsome I am right? Hehe.. First of all, I want to apologize for being a jerk to you; it was all an act... I don’t want to make you suffer anymore. You see? I was diagnosed with Helmer’s Myopathy and even if I won’t go on a mission, I will still die.. and so I did what my guts wanted me to do… spend my remaining days in a Jaeger fighting off till my last breath... This two weeks I’m away from you, it felt like hell, fucking hell… I wanted to touch you, hug you, but I did this, I distanced myself from you.. to hate me, because this is the only thing I could do to ease your pain. To replace it with anger. But please.. I love you with all my heart.. I won’t get tired of being with you.. To say that I love you.. I fucking love you so much.. I devote myself to telling you that.. I will always be in your heart, my love. I will never disappear.. If you ever miss me, just close your eyes, and I will appear.. That is how much I love you… What I did was for the greater good.. You deserve a peaceful world, (Y/N), my love. And I am willing to sacrifice myself to offer a serene world, for you. I know how much you love literature, hold on.. I have a quote for you, “I guess that's just part of loving people: You have to give things up.” I will give everything up, just for you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

im nervous about this but since i didn’t proofread this sike. anyways <3

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