#please ignore me while i scream all my love for these characters and their stories into the void all by my lonesome

[rain13121]

The infuriating feeling when you have a song and a pairing that you really want to write something for, but your brain is filled with angry bees and you have no ideas on what to write about.

It's like when your foot falls asleep but it's your whole brain.

[sailorrhansol]

Storm Breaker | (l.jh)

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

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

❀ Word Count: 23,373

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

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

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

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

❀ A/N: HERE SHE IS. This story takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but you definitely do not have to watch the movie to enjoy it - I’m pretty sure I explain everything in terms of how it works but if something is confusing, please tell me and I will adjust! I hope you enjoy this Jihoon who has been the apple of my eye for like almost three months now. STAY TUNED FOR MY SECOND FIC IN THIS UNIVERSE SHARING CHAN AND WYLIE'S STORY :)

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

❀ Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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

Just add it to his list of inconveniences.  

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

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

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

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

“Ranger-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you guess?” 

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

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

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

“Nope.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Privacy is important to him. 

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

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

Drift compatibility. 

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

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

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

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

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

He has nowhere else to go anyway. 

-

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

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

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

You pause. “Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.” 

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

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

Her smile is firm. “I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“No promises.” 

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

Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

“Don’t care.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes you think that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dino and Wylie.” 

“Good pilots?” 

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

“Ambidextrous.”

“Good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

So you deviate. 

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

“That isn’t how that works.” 

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

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

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

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

And you’re still on top of him. 

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

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

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

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

“We’re too different in principle.” 

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

“You deviate.” 

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

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

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

He pauses. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

-

You are vexing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the suspension look like?”

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

“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”

He nods. “Since my first drop.”

“She’s beautifully built.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”

“Why Dino?” 

“I step on everyone.” 

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

“How was your drop?” 

“Easy,” they say in unison. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I - what?” 

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

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

“The trade off?”

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

“Look - “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he hates you for it.

-

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

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

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

“What do you know about music?”

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

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”

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

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

“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

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

“Wherever I want, got it.” 

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

Cozy. 

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

You doubt it’s the latter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.” 

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

“Close your eyes.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great.” 

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

“What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look at the TV.”

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

“Ji, it is five in the morning.”

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

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

As expected, you get no response. 

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

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

“Then use the sink.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t.”

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

“Thank god for that,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go. We have sparring.” 

-

Jihoon doesn’t like you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She wanted to protect you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll come.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, man.”

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

“Wylie is one of my best friends.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to engage.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes. 

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pursue.” 

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

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

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

“Engage at your discretion.”

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

“Heard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

“Ugh.”

He smirks. “Cardio day.”

“Ji, no.”

He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it. Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes until surface breach.” 

“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp. 

“Sup?”

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

Vernon groans. “Mood.” 

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

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

“So it’s Ji now, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Engage at your discretion.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way.”

“Come onnnn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... out of alignment!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s chasing the rabbit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!” 

Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder. 

Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.

You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes. 

Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”

-

Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry. 

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

“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”

“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”

He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think. 

Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.

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

He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine. 

“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”

“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”

“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”

He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.” 

Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot. 

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”

His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.” 

Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry. 

You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.

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

One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat. 

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.” 

“So crumble.” 

“Fuck.”

Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you. 

Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs. 

Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head. 

He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.

“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.

“Mmmf - difficult.”

This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.

Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest. 

“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.” 

Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.” 

So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there. 

“Having a hard time?”

“Jihoon.”

One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue. 

“Jihoon.” 

He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently. 

Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest. 

“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.” 

He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again. 

“Try now,” he pants. 

His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking. 

You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug. 

A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.

He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear. 

“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.” 

His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real. 

The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace. 

When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically. 

You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.

Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm. 

He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”

It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.

Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.

Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy. 

“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.” 

“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.” 

“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.” 

“How stupid of you.”

Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in. 

His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt. 

Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight. 

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”

Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.” 

Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you. 

His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.

“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless. 

Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong. 

His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy. 

“Oh shit,” you wheeze. 

He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath. 

His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”

“So come again.” 

You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips. 

Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard. 

He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.

With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.

Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders. 

“Thank you.” 

You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”

“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I hope so. I want to be.” 

With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.

“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?” 

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.” 

“Come on, we’re showering.” 

“No way, I am not moving right now.”

“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”

“Ji,” you whine. 

He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.” 

-

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

-

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[cursedcola]

Plot: Read to find out :) Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al' Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, and Malleus Draconia + special platonic guest Warnings: Mentions of depressive themes and anxiety. Spoilers for TW main story. A/N: This is a doosy. I hope you like it. It might be one of my favorite works to date.

Difficult to notice, yet deadly if ignored. The smudge of black on Grim's magestone went unnoticed by many as the days at Night Raven College passed. Each as chaotic and entertaining to Grim as the last. Over time the spot grew. A dot turned into a speck, and the speck soon turned into a splotch. Which then became a streak, and finally a stain that screamed "Look at me! Notice Me! I am here!". It remained unseen, until an eerie sensation overtook our feline friend. One that sparked panic as his ability to cast magic dwindled - as if whatever was maintaining the stone was on the cusp of breaking.

By then it was too late.

Grim had no time to panic or think about what caused his magestone to sour. Neither did the Ramshackle prefect or any other student at Night Raven College.

Funny enough. The stress of yet another possible overblot occurring was enough for the last inch of purple to be overcome by darkness. Grim ran away from his friends in a panicked frenzy, afraid that they'll be hurt and scared for what pain he would feel. Arms yanked the school's magicless tactician out of harm's way - the prefect had solved many cases and would do so successfully again. They would save him.

Tension tight enough to suffocate hung in the air as students either prepared for battle or fled. All eyes watching Grim as he desperately tried to shake the blot out of his stone; yet, he never turned. No monster bleeding black ooze was in sight. Just a trembling cat.

Mass confusion overtook all as they looked between each other for answers.

"Looking for me?"

A monotone voice echoed from beyond the barricade of students. A voice many spoke to on a daily basis that normally sang with snarky quips and lovable anecdotes. Students barreled away from its direction as black ooze overtook the ground beneath them.

Screams fell to deaf ears as the the overblot manifestation crawled up their legs and encased those fleeing in a midnight chrysalis. Any who tried to fight received the same fate. It toyed with them mercilessly until they resigned themselves to their insignificance.

"Please stop running. It makes this much more difficult on me...but then again, when did that ever matter?"

Compared to other overblots, the prefect held no shadow. No presence. They stood idle - like a husk - as the blot wreaked havoc in their place. Lifeless eyes scoured a crowd of pleas and cries with no signs of feeling or mercy. Like they were a puppet.

Their eyes met his, and momentarily the darkness ceased its spread. As some students took the chance to run in the distance - they reach out a hand. His name stutters from their lips as a pitch-black tear fell to the floor.

"Riddle"

He gasps when you say his name. For a moment Riddle is caught off guard, and it's enough time for the ooze to begin crawling up his calf. His own magestone suffered greatly from trying to keep the dark magic at bay while aiding nearby students in their escape.

It's light flickers in his hand as he tries desperately to cast another warding spell. Alas, it was out of mana.

And Riddle is out of time.

He thought of his own overblot on occasion. Some parts were foggy, and others he could remember vividly enough to believe he was still there. Trapped in his own self-loathing. Scared. Angry. Vengeful.

Then there was you. Strong. Independent. Respected. You had merely been at his school for a few weeks and somehow managed to take charge of situations he could not begin to fathom. You saved him when he did not know he needed to be saved. Riddle envied it at the time. Wanted the ability to guide others and still be loved by them - like you.

At some point he no longer wanted to become you. He wanted to be with you. He was proud of your intelligence and always made sure you were aware that it was superior to many he knew.

He wonders what you are feeling. If you are aware like he was, or if you are in a slumber like the students you have captured. At least, he hopes that is what happened to them and you have not done any 'permanent' harm.

Riddle stops struggling when the ooze reaches his waist. He needs a new approach...your approach.

"MC...MC can you hear me?! You need to fight it! There is no logic in mass hysteria!," he screams above the chaos with clenched fists. Your eyes meet once again and Riddle sighs in relief. He may have a chance -

"I am not logical," you say calmly, and return to watching the chaos, "and I never want to be,"

The ooze stretches over his arms and in the distance he sees the remnants of his dorm succumb to the blot. His frustration overpowers his fleeting confusion at your words. Now red contrasts to black, as his face burns in anger.

"Clearly so! If you're going to behave so childishly!"

"Maybe. It will be over soon. Logic is unnecessary when there is nothing,"

"What's wrong with you?! Suddenly doing all this - what example are you setting for other students? You were a role-model to - "

"None. I was a role-model to none," the ooze halts abruptly at the top of Riddles neck and he strains his head away from it. You glare at him with clenched teeth, "I did not ask for their expectations. Since I cannot escape them or this place...I will be rid of them permanently,"

Your hands fly to fist at your head and your breaths become ragged. Riddle found the land mine he was looking for...and he greatly disliked the familiarity.

"Expectations are given to people worthy. You may not agree, but it is the truth. Every expectation you receive is determined by a bar that you have put into place. You are in control MC. You have always been in control," Riddle releases a breath as the ooze begins to recede to his shoulders.

You go quiet, and gaze down at the ink staining your hands in terror, "I failed everyone. I failed you," you cry, "I'm so so sorry,"

The ink recedes to Riddle's feet and he sprints to your side. He kneels and takes your hands in his. Around you, students escape as the blot begins to fade away.

"If anyone needs to apologize...it is I. Let it be known that I expect nothing of you other than your happiness. Even then, it is and always will be your choice..."

"Leona"

Leona tenses in place and his ears twitch. His guard is still on high alert, but his heart thrums in his chest at record breaking pace. For a brief moment, he heard your voice. Not the distorted mutilation coming from the blot...but your voice.

Weak. Fragile. Suffering.

His legs act alongside his head and Leona dodges the spike of ooze aimed for his wrist. His quick reflexes protect him from becoming trapped in whatever cocoon you were encasing other students in.

His first instinct is to use King's Roar...but doing so would hurt you in the process. There's no doubt in his mind that it's why you called for him. That...and one other reason. He knows you can handle it. You're strong. He's pointed out your admirable strength for a human on many occasions. From nearly fist-fighting a groom-seeking ghost, keeping up with his spell drive practices, lugging him across campus, to even outrunning the leech twins every other hour - your ability to take a hit was well known.

Even now. Leona did not predict that you could overblot, but your form does not surprise him in the slightest. If anyone was to reek with such raw power, it would be the one person on campus surviving through pure grit. Leona may have underestimated you in the beginning, but he knows better now.

"If you don't stop then I have no choice but to fight you! Is that what you want?! Because I don’t hold back. Not for you - not for anyone,” he threatens, yet it reaches no one. You don’t spare Leona a glace when he aims his wand at you, “Never thought you’d fall like this, prefect. Tsk. What a disappointment,”

Leona shoots a burst of magical energy your way, but it meets a wall of ooze. It molds around you in a protective barrier, blocking any attack and keeping others at a distance.

Brute force would not work. Yet it was all Leona could do in a situation with no tactical edge. No insult or snarky joke rewarded him with a response. You were merely toying with him - and it made him simmer in rage. As his mana quickly depletes, he begins to believe that ‘saving’ you is a lost cause.

“There was nowhere to ‘fall’ from. Gravity holds us in our place. You of all people should know this, Leona,” you lift an arm, and suddenly he’s pinned down and kneeling on the ground.

“The hell are you talking about?! You’ve gone insane - look at this place,”

“It’s not fun to live in denial Leona. Aren’t you tired of fighting a 'lost cause'? I know that I am…”

You approach and kneel down in front of him at eye level. A macabre underlaying in your movements as you sway in the sea of black - and it clicks.

Leona found his edge…and it burns. His stomach lurches knowing what he has to do. With all his strength he pulls his remaining mana to rip his arms from the ooze and grab your shoulders. Tightly. His claws dig into your skin and draw crimson.

“I will never give up,” he grits, “but I can reevaluate. I might not be first born but I’ll be damned if that stops me from getting what I want…and I was right to peg you an idiot if you're thinking otherwise,”

Your eyes narrow at his words, and suddenly every ounce of darkness in the area is pointed like sharp needles at Leona.

“Too bad you’ll die before-“

“Sure, like you have the gull to kill me? You haven’t given up either,” Leona speaks out confidently, “stronger than I am. You would never kill someone for personal gain…and you know it. Why else have you come this far, huh? To play mage? No, you’re doing it to live so quit throwing a fucking tantrum and grow up. Whatever it is that you want to do…,” he stands abruptly and you quickly pull the needles away - proving his point and he smirks.

“I’ll help you to do it, alright. So let everything go and only look my way,”

And you do. Leona catches you just as your consciousness gives out and all the miasma from the area slowly fades away. Not a scratch or sign of distress in sight….as if everything was a bad dream that NRC just awoke from. Leona picks you up and escapes the area quickly. Health now, theorizing after.

"Azul"

A shiver snakes down Azul's spine. Your voice hangs still in the air - clouding his mind and his eyes sting as he forgets to blink. He never pictured you begging. Not like the poor unfortunate souls he would ensnare with his contracts. Azul has heard you yell, he's seen you jump when startled and seen the color drain from your face when being scolded.

Yet, never desperate. Never terrified.

He doesn't know what to do. His magic is useless. Azul is useless...in the face of this. You.

Beautiful.

Even now. He finds you astonishing. The way you stand tall in a sea of black. He only sees you from behind yet even that feels like a forbidden pleasure. The miasma radiates from you like ocean waves on a calm evening. Your movements are fluid as you fall in sync with their flow and to Azul it's like you are dancing. Like an angelfish in the depths of the sea...you call to him.

Something cold and slimy wraps around his wrist in Azul's moment of weakness. It yanks him down and he's nearly dragged into a cocoon of black - almost. Luckily Professor Vargas is stronger. He grabs Azul by the shoulder and rips him out of the trap before demolishing it. Vargas' expression is steel as the blot retreats towards it's source...

You are reaching out in Azul's direction one moment, and in the next Vargas is standing protectively in front of him - blocking you from sight.

His professor yells, "Enough MC, fight me head on! I will protect these students with my-" and is blasted away before Azul can offer assistance. Just as he began to comprehend the situation...you overtook him once again.

A gust of air whips by and he squints. When his eyes open, you're a hairs length away from Azul's face - one move and your noses will touch.

Your hollow gaze bores into him, "Even in chaos, you won't look me in the eye. Your attention is always elsewhere," and his heart shudders.

He speaks without thinking, "My attention is never not on you," and he's completely forgotten about his likely injured teacher.

"Lies,"

"Truths," he breaths, "Even now. You are all I see," and he means it.

"You only look because I am now worthwhile," one of your hands slides up his shoulder and wraps around his bowtie, "I now have power to offer you. Would you like to make a contract?"

What was happening to him? Why...were the things he couldn't say days before slipping from his lips like butter.

His heart pounds at the offer. The power of an overblot at the reach of his fingertips...it's never been done before. If successful it would open doorways of new magical discoveries. Everyone would envy him-

and yet

'Azul,' your plea from earlier surfaces in his memory.

An offer has never disgusted him more. He cannot resist gagging at the thought..."Not on my life," he spits out in a haste.

You give no reaction to his distaste - or so he would think, if thick blot did not begin to curl between your bodies. Azul ignores the way it grips his clothes and steels himself.

"You do not need a contract to have me. You have always been - and will continue to be - my strength," he reaches to gently grab the hand around his neck, "this form is but a piece of you, yet I still cannot look away. You are everything,"

Insecurity. He doesn't know what could breed such a painful emotion in you - but from the way the world crumbles he must have assumed correctly.

You look away as the air begins to clear, and crystal tears prick the corners of your eyes.

Azul lifts his hands to your cheeks and brushes them away with his thumbs.

Beautiful.

"Kalim"

Quick on his feet, Kalim summons Oasis Maker to flush out some of the toxic mist spreading across the area. He falls into action like clockwork, guiding students out of the area and serving as a distraction until higher mages arrive. He is positive that the situation will be handled - except now you are not there to solve it.

Which isn't your fault. None of this is.

If anything, it's Kalim's fault. Which means he needs to work extra hard so that you don't blame yourself for anything. Which he knows you will do.

Because you're honest.

Which is something many people say about Kalim himself - they call it his fault. His 'defect'.

They're half-right. Kalim's honesty is not the same as yours. He chooses positivity and openness. You? It comes naturally. In ways that don't require a smile and energetic outlook on life. You are someone Kalim never has to second guess with - and that is a gift.

Your honesty is what Kalim loves the most about you. Your blunt nature and ability to stick with your gut. It is one of your biggest strengths...and he does not want you to lose it.

The way you called for him - knowing. You knew this overblot was coming yet said nothing. There was nothing that could have been done to stop it. Whatever you have buried beneath the surface - Kalim understands.

This image of you. This 'blemish'. It is your honesty. It’s your grimace every time someone comments on your “fortune” for getting free enrollment. It’s your relief when a harsh exam is over with, or when you lay in bed after a long day. Your excitement when Kalim takes you on a particularly adventurous ride on his flying carpet…your despair, when someone you care about is in trouble. It’s all of that wrapped in a bundle and put on display for everyone to see.

Kalim is scared. Not of you - but for you, because this emotionless monster wreaking havoc is what you perceive yourself as.

He feels guilty for not looking your way more than once. For leaving you to needlessly fight with the people you care about…but as the last student flees to safety he feels relief.

As he turns to face you with a grin - he feels happiness.

“Go on. Everyone’s gone now MC! Let it out!”

You turn away from fighting with your close friends. Ace and Deuce are weathered to dust and collapse on the floor. Rain still pours from Kalim’s signature spell and it mixes with the black miasma in puddles on the ground.

The two boys shout for Kalim to run - that you won’t see reason. He laughs and tells them not to worry before running towards you.

“Everyone’s safe now…you don’t have to worry anymore,” he says, and takes off his cardigan to lay over your shoulders. He adjusts it with a gentle smile and lifts his hand to wipe off a smear of ink from your cheek, “I hope you don’t catch a cold. I’ll take care of you, but I bet that wouldn’t be fun for you,”

“I was not worried,” you say, unblinking as he continues to fiddle with your garments, “the cold is irrelevant. As are you - flee you yellow pest,”

“Yes, you were,”

“No,”

“Yup!”

You slightly narrow your eyebrows at him, “and what makes you so certain?”

Your hand extends to the side at that moment, and ink lifts to encase the exhausted first years up to their necks, “would you like to join them?”

Kalim clutches the jacket tighter and ignores the panicked yapping of his friends.

“If that would make you happy, then sure! Take me! Just let them go…I don’t want you to be upset over this later,”

“And what makes you sure that there’s going to be a ‘later’?” You ask.

“Well…,” Kalim looks at his friends over your shoulder and then back to you, “because you know it too. Otherwise I’d be gone right now and so would everyone else. Deep down you’re getting ready to let go! And when you do we’ll all be ready to help you,”

Kalim pulls you into a tight hug. His arms wound over your shoulders and shield you from the rain above. A moment passes, and he feels your arms reach up around his back. Not once during the entire encounter did the ooze attack him. Even in a slumber of darkness you still held onto yourself. Just like Kalim knew you would.

“You really are a naïve idiot,” your voice - now full of sorrow - whispers in is ear, “I could have killed you,”

He hugs you tighter, “you could have, and I probably would have let you haha. Next time let’s talk - I’ll always be here for you,”

“I know. You always are,”

"Vil"

An explosion of grime blackens his uniform in a matter of seconds. It covers Vil from head to toe - soaking his hair, dampening his cape, and filling his boots. As students slip across the floor in an attempt to flee, Vil is halted in place by the sickening feeling of filth overtaking him.

Ever calm in the face of chaos, he pulls out a handkerchief to clean himself. The scene before him utterly dull and disinteresting.

"I expected more. Is this all that results from your spite?...honestly, prefect. At least put in some effort beyond this putrid slime,"

And he has you in his clutches. As he tosses the handkerchief over his shoulder, your head snaps robotically in his direction.

He eyes rake over you callously. Nit picking every little 'imperfection', from the bags underneath your eyes to the veins bulging out of your neck from strain. Vil's heels click against the ground as he approaches. Magic trickles from his fingertips and pushes away the barrier of blot that you've created. Effortlessly, he passes through it all.

At your feet kneels a new freshman from his dorm. A young man eyes him with a mix of fear and relief. Vil notes his shredded uniform and eyes bloodshot from crying - likely from begging for mercy.

He lifts his chin at the lad, "Run or fight. Pick now, Pomefiore students do not grovel," and the boy wastes no time escaping with a strained 'thank you'.

"He was not yours to free," your voice echoes. Airy and meaningless to Vil's ears and he watches as ooze captures the boy in a cocoon before he makes it ten paces away.

"It's hypocritical," Vil chuckles, "that you trap them like insects...or is it a metaphor? Do you feel caged, prefect?"

Vil raises a singular eyebrow, taunting you to respond. You do not, yet he expected such due to this 'artificial' state you've taken on.

"Of course you do. I certainly would...although I thought you more determined than resorting to an overblot's power to free yourself,"

Around Vil more people fall prey to your traps. Neither brute force or trickery allows them to leave the miasma's boarder, and he cannot help but feel a smidge of awe at the sight. To bottle the essence into a potion...it would be marvelous. The miracle of a magicless producing an overblot is astounding on it's own, yet the entire scenario is remarkable.

You are remarkable.

Arrows soar and he watches as Rook falls. The hunter turned prey - Rook becomes a bird locked away in a cage. Epel is not far behind him. A string of uncouth curses leaving the boy's lips when he looses his footing to the darkness.

Vil tuts, "If only I could make Epel submit so easily during mannerism lessons...perhaps I can learn from you yet MC,"

"Will you ever cease speaking?"

"First, rude," he sighs, "second, why not force me? People in an overblot state normally do not entertain chatter...what makes you special?"

You eye him, "I don't need to immobilize what's already broken," and he smirks. Of course you would say that of all things. Vil knows you better than you know yourself...he's observed up close and at a distance. Vil knows that you have doubts in him, in the school, in your friends, and in yourself the most.

but you cut no corners. Your dedication to being the 'perfect prefect' is something often admired...to where even your overblotted form is unconsciously maintaining it. Had you not kidnapped half the school in goo prison - none likely would notice an overblot walked the halls.

Until you spoke, at least. This gravelly undertone does not suit you...or does it?

"You may be correct," Vil raises a hand to his chin and pretends to think, "but you are not broken MC. Merely misguided. Your sheer determination has given you the strength to persevere, and I was convinced that it would be enough. I thought you and I to be similar,"

He reaches out and lays a steady hand on your shoulder. You look up at him through your eyelashes, and he takes it as a sign to reach down and hold your hand. His delicate fingers intertwine with yours.

"I was wrong. You are capable of more than brute force - so cage me. Otherwise you will have to hear my ramblings for all eternity. You won't, because you are more determined than I was to break through this spell...but go on and try. You have my cooperation,"

Your hand tightens around Vil's and for the first time since coming to your side - emotion is clear on your face.

Thick tears stream down your cheeks and Vil breaths out in relief.

"You're right...ugh, why are you always right ya pompous asshole," you say and bring his fingers to your forehead. A faint blush dusts Vil's cheeks and he smiles.

"I am the fairest, after all. My voice was bound to reach you eventually, my dear"

"Idia"

Oh no. Nononononon this can’t be happening. Not them. Anyone but them.

Great seven. He must have misheard amongst the screams or the reception in his dorm must have bugged out.

Whichever it is, Idia panics and yanks his earphones off of his head. Multiple monitors within his room show the catastrophe playing out from different angles. At the center is his main screen, which is black despite the video signal still being active. The moment his name left your lips a harpoon of blot shot at his tablet . Then there was nothing.

What the hell just happened? Idia thinks, a cold sweat dripping down his spine. His hair flares an anxious orange as he chews on his nails. The last thing he saw before dark was your face - void of expression yet morphed in pain. Then there was Ortho. His beloved little brother was trying to reach his tablet before everything snapped.

“Ah! What is this - the final boss?! Some kind of plot twist?! We think it’s all over just for a normie to blot? This is ridiculous-“

Despite the dark - Idia can hear. Muffled rustling echoes from the headset on the floor as he paces back and forth in his room. He knew there was a reason he felt so energized when you were around! Ortho said it was because he was …eugh…feeling things - but you were practically smothering him with your blot.

To energize Idia of all people…it must be strong. How the hell is he supposed to save you from that? No way!

"Big brother…please! We….need you!….MC….needs you!" Ortho's voice fades in and out but Idia can hear him clear enough. He halts in his tracks and clutches his head from stress. In one hand, he could stay in his room and let someone else handle you. In the other, he could leave the safety of his bedroom like an absolute idiot and try something. Anything - and pray it works.

He grabs a pillow and screams various curses into it. His hair flairs up into blood red from frustration and angry tears prick his eyes.

Curse him for being a total coward. Courage…bravery…they were your traits - not his. You stopped so many others and saved them - even him! A worthless wimp. You found a way and now he gets to live happily with his brother.

And despite it Idia can’t bring himself to return the favor. Who asked you to help him in the first place anyway!? Now he has a debt and … ugh, no. That’s not it. This isn’t about a debt and never was.

“Please! You’re the only one,” Ortho yells again and Idia can hear the sound of a battle. He looks at the security cameras to see blot covering the main building and slowly inching it’s way outwards. Not to long and it would reach him anyways…

He grabs his wand along with his uniform jacket, slips on his boots, and finds another one of his tablets. What’s he going to do? - Idia has a plan but it’s definitely something you’d take to a lvl 10 raid with friends and not a lvl 100 boss.

His heart pounds in his chest as he reaches the blot boarder. It flocks to him and he grimaces in disgust before barreling through - flickering through cctv feed on his tablet and making sure Ortho can stave you off until he arrives.

Ortho does, but the moment Idia enters the scene his brother falters. He’s swallowed up by blot right at the last second and Idia has no time to be frightened. The campus had become a sea of black cocoons by the time he arrived…and amidst them all you stood in silence. As if you were waiting for the chosen challenger…

“M-MC? What are y-you doing?! E-everyone’s d-d-dead?!”

“Not dead. Sleeping. Soon I will join them…as will you, Idia,” you say, and one of the cocoons opens to reveal his broken tablet. Idia’s hands shake when he realizes that there is no one else left.

It was up to him to save you. To save everyone and himself.

You begin to walk towards him and Idia takes steps back as you approach.

“Are you afraid of me, Idia? Oh - who am I kidding…you always have been. Worry not. There is nothing to be scared of here,”

The words you speak would normally comfort him - perhaps even leave Idia flustered and feeling protected.

But they’re cold. They might come from your lips but they lack meaning behind them and he can’t hear your voice. The way you say Idia’s name makes him shriek and hold his wand defensively.

He lets out a shaky breath, “I might be too dysfunctional for many things - but I’ve never been bested by a normie. Give back my brother!”

Idia quickly casts a spell -- and it hits! He fully expected you to dodge or for something to deflect it - but you’re struck in the chest. He jumps when you're sent flying backwards and into a wall. A sickening crunch accompanies the impact

He hurt you, and the realization costs him to shake harder. The thought of you resenting him for it makes bile rise to his throat -

"Shit- are you okay?? What kinda villain doesn't dodge an attack?" he yells but keeps his distance.

You pick yourself up effortlessly, and he's almost relieved - if not for the blood dripping from your forehead.

You lift two fingers to the cut, "That was an unexpected development," and bring them down to admire black ichor, "yet not unwelcome"

"Tell me, does it feel good? All this blot must be an endless source of mana...why not fight me? You know you want to,"

Idia always believed you were crazy, but this? What the hell were you feeling to become so creepy? He takes a step back and eyes you warily.

Idia grits his teeth, "The hell is wrong with you? I can't believe that I'm saying this but we're not in a game, idiot! I almost killed you!"

"Isn't it though?," you chuckle dryly, "it must be, considering how dangerous this world is. You agree, don't you? That hiding away is what's best when this," you gesture to yourself, "is what you find outside"

You've backed Idia into a corner with his own outlook on life as the ammo. He's lost for words. Unable to disagree since you are right - life outside is difficult.

"I-if I meant that then I wouldn't be here, now would I?" he smirks.

Yet you know better, "Truly? Then where were you before? I recall a young boy calling for his brother -for a 'savior' - long before you arrived"

You smile at the word 'savior,' yet it does not reach your eyes. In an instant you're in front of him, and Idia drop his wand in shock.

"Tell me - do you believe that you can 'save' me?," your lips point to frown, "do I even want to be saved?"

He goes quiet. That was definitely a villain monologue if he ever heard one...and if you currently weren't skirting death then he would cringe.

"Likely not," he whispers, "you have never needed to be saved. Out of everyone here MC, you are definitely the most meta character in this 'game,'"

You look down at him disinterested. Neither in his words or in how -for once- he is staving off your insults before they throw him into self-deprecation mode.

Idia gestures to the scene surrounding you, "I mean - just look at this! You've decimated half the school! I'd be crazy to think that sappy words and playing half-baked hero could stop this..." he places down the tablet in surrender and reaches out a shaking hand to grab your ankle. Blot curls from your body to his arm and he bites into his cheek to avoid shirking away, "...but I had to try. Normally when something bad happens - I wait for Ortho to step in. You too, you're so fearless that it's laughable,"

He glares up at you, his hair singing the floor surrounding him, "but this version of you took him away - and I know the real you is scared shitless. I may be spineless, but I'm not blind. You're freaking out more than I am at this mess, and I'm going to drag you back to fix it. I do not have the capacity to handle the social aftermath of being in the 'last survivor' trope, so let me save you, "

He pulls you down on top of him and secures his arms tightly around you. Idia doesn't let go through your squirming and the blot trying to worm it's way through his hold.

He can't save you alone, but he can make you save yourself. The crappy he speech was embarrassing enough so just give in already! Stop struggling and quit being so self-sacrificial. Be selfish for once and let him do something.

He longer he holds you, the less you struggle. The blot coating the area begins to clear as your body begins to tremble just as much as Idia's. Students begin to free themselves and he keeps you in a tight hold - for safe measure! Until someone comes to take you to the nurse! Definitely not because he can sense that you're crying, and is now conscious of the people staring at you both. He definitely is not trying to hide beneath you.

"Malleus"

All was silent. Malleus sat on the loveseat in his bedroom while reading a book to pass the time until nightfall. Then he would head over to Ramshackle dorm for his evening walk with his beloved. You would talk, and he would listen. The fireflies would light a path for you both to follow in the Forrest as he leads you by the hand. It is his favorite part of the day - these routine walks. Merely seeing your face brightens his mood, and having your attention solely on him is a kindness he does not deserve. He thanks whatever power that summoned you here every night before falling asleep.

The way you make idle chatter by asking about his day and take genuine interest in the mundane things he shares. Malleus' heart holds nothing but adoration for his caring sweetheart. He is attuned to every little movement, every mannerism and tick that sums you up.

Which is why his heart plummets and breath halts when your voice thrums in his ears. It was distant, but he would hear your call no matter how far.

What startles him most is the fear in your tone. You know well that he would allow no harm to befall you - ever. He has come to your aid countless times. During each you remain calm and ever the pacifist. Only asking him to support you in solving a problem.

This fear was new. He hadn't pondered it longer than a moment before Lilia burst into his bedroom.

"We have a problem. A big one," he says, with no trace of humor or playfulness in his voice.

Malleus all but throws the book at his bed and dashes out the door. With a poof, he vanishes.

Thunder and lightning echo across Night Raven College in his wake.

Malleus feels unsettled at the sight before him. He prepared for the worst - monsters, explosions, a psychopathic twink named after candy. He was ready to shield you from all evil and banish whatever made you to say his name in any tone other than bliss.

What was he to do, when faced with you? A corrupt, stomach-churning, inconceivably warped version of you...but still the person he cares for deeply? He cannot use force. That is for certain.

Then there is the matter of the students. In one corner a defenseless few cower together, as those braver stand guard to fight off figments of blot. He hears familiar voices in the distance - some cursing you and others pleading. They notice him and cry out in relief. That is a first - very few find his presence comforting.

"Malleus? How curious, that you'd join me before nightfall," you appear in front of him. Waves of miasma fly off you but it does not bother him in the slightest. As if he was infectious, the blot filters around him in waves to find its next victim.

His eyes visibly soften at what you've become, "MC...what should I do? How can I help you?"

"Help me? I am fine," you say, and he notes your dazed appearance. As if he was a figment of your imagination and you can see beyond him.

"No, you are not," he reaches out, "you are hurting. You would never dream of harming others. You are overcome by negative emotions,"

"I do not feel 'overcome' by anything. They are the ones who chose to run. I merely stopped them. If everyone would comply then I wouldn't have to hurt them," you slap his hand away and Malleus glowers, "they asked for this. You are as well, if you decide to oppose me,"

Retreating a few paces back, Malleus rethinks his approach. He cannot help you if you can't tell him what is wrong, but he cannot deduce what's wrong if you think he is 'opposing' you.

Malleus knows that he can end this with the snap of his fingers. It would save all of NRC's students, but in the process you could be hurt - and in his humble opinion, you have suffered enough. The mere memory of this incident will leave you in emotional pieces that he is more than willing to help collect. He cannot do the same for physical parts.

"I will not fight you," he says definitively, "but I will not leave you either. I promised to protect you and I do not go back on my word. Until the day you are willing to listen, I will wait for you,"

"and what if that day never comes to pass?"

"Then I will wait beyond forever. Until you give me a chance to repay the kindness you have shown me, and ensure nothing causes you pain ever again,"

Malleus is genuine despite the cries of his school mates and teachers. He has no doubts that you will see reason, be it within the next hour or in the next millennia. You will never be too far gone because he will be there to keep you within reach. He is willing to wait.

You clutch your hands at your sides, "Kindness? I have never been kind. Only desperate,"

Malleus steps forward and removes one of his gloves. He remains at a safe distance despite wanting to hold you in his arms. Instead, he repeats his earlier actions and holds out a hand.

"Desperation can take many forms. Anger, anxiety, impulsiveness, - but you have always acted in the interest of others. Even now, in this state, you believe your harmful actions are necessary to 'stop' people and admit not desiring to hurt them. You may not see it, but you are kind,"

You stare at his ungloved hand before laying your own on top of it. Normally your skin would be a welcome warmth against his reptilian temperature, but your touch is like ice. He lightly wraps his hand around yours, and steps forward to rest his chin on your head.

"I'm cruel,"

"No, you are caring,"

"I hate this place. I only help because I have to,"

"You dislike being trapped, yet cannot help but care for the people here,"

He lifts his hand behind your head, and pushes your face into the nape of his neck. The air begins to clear, and he smiles in relief.

"I might hurt you," you say softly, and clutch his sleeves.

"And I will forgive you,"

"Grim!"

In your last sane moments, you call for your friend. The little cat that's been by your side since the very beginning. He was scared to become a monster...but Grim knew deep down that you would save him. You're his best friend! You always bail him out of trouble.

So what should he do? Tell him MC...what can Grim do to help you?

He's scared. You both may make up a team, but he's always been the troublemaker while you are the intelligent one! He might brag about a test or two - but he can't make a plan! That's your job!

The floor shakes under his paws, and he loses his footing. The black magestone slips from his claws and is lost to the crowd. There is no strength in this little body. He normally runs into your arms when it's time to run.

Hands grab him by the scruff of his neck and Grim's hoisted in the air. He struggles against your grip, but is forced to look at your face.

Do you know how many suitors he has had to scare off because of that face? You're beautiful - which pisses Grim off because people keep trying to sway his henchman away from him.

Do you know how tiring that is? Protecting you from jerks and wannabe's. You don't have any family here to help. He owes them that much since you are HALF of the reason that Grim gets to be a student.

You've always been naïve when it came to other people...too honest. Which Grim took advantage of from time to time - but only he can do so! You are his meal ticket after all!

Your grip on his neck is tight enough to prevent him from escaping, but it doesn't hurt. As you look on at the people trying to fight - some to escape like wimps and others to 'save' you - Grim gives up. If you're determined to destroy the school...well, he can't stop you. No one can. You always find a way to make things work in your favor and Grim secretly thanked the Great Seven that you were not his enemy. Until now, that is. Now he's cursing them out heavily in his head.

The students fighting. Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, - anyone and everyone who's become your friend. Some yell for you to let Grim go and others focus on trying to make you see reason all together. They can't get close.

If you weren't 'busy,' Grim knows that you'd be there with them. Being bossy as hell and taking charge. He wishes that he had that courage.

You finally move when everyone has fallen. With Grim still in your grasp, you walk across the sea of blot to admire your work. It's then that a glimmer catches Grim's eye, and your foot kicks the dropped magestone from before.

You reach down to pick it up - cautiously.

"Is this yours?" you say, and hold it up to him. Grim's eyes widen and he quickly snatches it in his paws.

Upon close inspection, he sees that he was mistaken before. In the far corner a sliver of purple stands out against the black stone. You could be saved.

Grim could stop this.

So he does what he does best, and clings to your side. His claws dig in to your waist and no matter how hard you pull he does not let go.

"It's my fault you're like this, right? I annoy ya and demand things all the time. I'll stop getting ya into trouble - I promise! I won't mess with your lovelife or steal your snacks anymore. I'll start studying for tests and help clean around the house! I'll even quit stealing your phone! Please just give me my friend back - "

Somewhere amidst his garbled sniveling - you stop pulling at him and instead begin to stroke his fur. His last resort resonated with the ounce of kindness that still remained. As you held Grim safely in your arms, the world shifted back to normal.

[hkruu]

Yandere CEO x reader who wants to be your sugar baby?

“CHOOSE ME!”— hkr

\\ silly little yandere guy , manipulation(?) , guilt tripping , murder and violence heavily implied , kidnapping , two faced character , reader is gn as usual //

Obviously Yuri wouldn't give up just because you rejected him. A simple "no" will not be enough, he will never stop unless you finally say those words — it's the only goal he's working towards.

Aside from balancing his CEO status from the company, he thinks it's an easy life, thrilling even. But it doesn't come easily, he can't slip up one bit lest he'll fall down from the reputation he's built for the past 2 years.

It simply wasn't worth it.

But for you? Oh how he wishes he could be pampered by your soft hands, guide him, spoil him, sweet talk him — ah how he yearns to be beside your bed, stroking his hair gently as you talk about your stressful day. It's the perfect world he has envisioned for the both of you.

Yuri isn't about to give up just because you said "no".

Yuri would go to insane lengths just to make you look at him. No, he cannot have you looking at some other good-looking woman or man — you must only look at him. He'll whine about it to you and complain, guilt tripping you into apologizing and you having to sweet talk him so that we won't sulk over it.

You think it's hard work but for Yuri it's the opposite.

Never underestimate him, just because he acts like a total puppy around you does not mean that he won't resort to violent tendencies. Mind you Yuri is a CEO — he has learned all the ways the world works, you need to work hard for the thing you want.

"P-please let me go! I did nothing!" The person screamed angrily, struggling to get out of the chair they've been tied up to.

"Nothing? Why are they ignoring me then?" Yuri looked down at the unfortunate individual, if they hadn't interrupted his precious plan he would've been in their arms by now.

His gaze was piercing before continuing into the night, the ambience of agony has never sounded better in Yuri's ears. It was a pleasure to hear every time he got the chance to do it, whether by kidnapping, torturing, making them commit — it was wall fun.

But you still say no to his advantages.

Why can't you understand that he just wants to be taken care of? It's such a simple request, you don't have to have sex with him, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do.. Yuri doesn't understand.

Yuri is practically crying in front of you, confessing his undying love to you. "Here I am, putting effort into this whole thing while you just bask in my attention.. do you even appreciate things I do for you?" He'd say while sobbing.

Yuri needs you can't you understand? He'll beg you for it, he'll get on his knees. Yuri is desperate and once he gets everything he wants, it's sure that you'll never ever get away from him ever again.

He'll take everything in his hands, make you feel insecure, he needs you to be emotionally dependent on him — that way he'll be the only person you'll turn to when you need someone. You don't need your family, siblings, friends, co-workers, just Yuri.

Yuri assures you that he'll never leave your side just make him yours, take care of him, spoil him, make him happy. It's what he deserves, he went through so much yet you still don't appreciate him? What's wrong with you.

Are you that ungrateful? Be an angel and just say yes and accept his proposal.

Yuri built this dream brick by brick but you broke it down, he will keep rebuilding it for an eternity until you finally accept your role in his story.

Pamper him go ahead, he won't complain. Spoil him all you want, he'll be your doll who will sit still and look pretty for you to look at. Just make sure you don't lose interest, he'll make sure you'll only look at him.

"Have you considered it yet?" Yuri causally asks you, smiling brightly. It was hard to imagine this hard-working CEO to be someone different, he was someone you could trust.

"I'm still thinking about it.." You sheepishly say to Yuri, you don't know why you suddenly feel like a thousand daggers are piercing through you as if there will be consequences to your own actions.

"Please think about it hard. You'll never regret it." He smiles at you.

\\ ahh sorry if it's a bit short ;; I rushed this one because I was behind my writing schedules (I was supposed to post this way earlier). I think this is one of my worst writings yet but uhh I rlly like the story idea! //

[ronniaugust]

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

[luvyuki0]

Amber ── .✦01.

✦ Summary: In which Esme and Hoseok fall in love but of course with love comes trouble especially when you're dating an idol.

Series masterlist| previous| next

"JUST SHUT UP! PLEASE!" Her cries echoed throughout the house, covering her ears as she laid on the floor. She couldn't deal with it anymore, the constant gaslighting and the mental abuse was getting to the point where it was too much. "I should've listened when they warned me, but nah I ignored them 'cause my dumbass didn't know any better, cutting the people I loved off FOR YOU! just so that you could be happy, for us to be happy!" She screamed while crying. He stood there confused as if he didn't know why she was crying, as if he wasn't the reason her mental health depleted and still is. when she finally looked up at him all that could be seen in her face was disgust. Disgust with they were he was looking and acting towards her over the years. "You know what I'm done with this bullshit." She got up wiping her tears, leaving the male's apartment ignoring all sounds and stares she received. All she could think about was why she never realized sooner......



. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Esme's POV:

        "Should I be doing this right now?" Biting my fingers anxiously as my decorated camera sat on my bed. I knew I would have to come back to making YouTube videos eventually,as it was all I knew and I would be nothing without it and my subscribers. I just never expected it to feel so foreign to me. Honestly I don't even know if I'm ready to get back but I know many of my fans miss me, and of course theres some who thought I'd be gone for good, and honestly I don't blame them for that knowing I did take a 6-month break with no heads up, not only on YouTube but on all my social media platforms, kinda like I just disappeared but if not now then  when?

I sigh grabbing my camera and turning it to start recording. "Hey guys! I know it's been a while and y'all are probably wondering where I've been, what I've been doing and more some of y'all were right and I did break up with Rome but I'm not gonna go into full details about it, cause I'm not ready yet when I am though you guys will know the full story and understand why I took a break but lemme not ruin the mood it's a time of comebacks and celebration! now I am going to get back on my routine, posting weekly and spamming my socials!" As I speak, I can just feel some of the weight I've been holding on being lifted off my chest.

I clasp my hands together before I continue talking. "To be honest with y'all I wasn't even going to start recording again this soon, but Jazmine and her Lil boo invited me and one of his friends to a trip to Hawaii!!! Like y'all don't understand how hyped I am right now! Like I may regret this later but who am I to say no to a trip to Hawaii." I shrug my shoulders jokingly.

"I didn't plan much for this video honestly, but I did want this video and the Hawaii flight video to be separate, and since I and Jaz are going tomorrow imma drop COCO off at my mom's, and hopefully jaz is gonna be home by the time I get back so we can pack together and hopefully make some cute matching fits." I explain to my viewers what I have planned for the day though it wasn't much. (A/N: coco is the name of her Pomeranian I didn't put her in the characters cus she wouldn't be mentioned much💀)

"Come here coco! Y'all why he tryna act like he dont know mee! get a hold of Coco who was trying to run away, I grab my keys, slip on my slides, and lock my door, leaving my apartment complex as I make my way to my car.

I prop my camera on my dashboard, so it won't fall, and put on Apple Music to play "Normal Girl". "As always y'all we're gonna stop by Starbucks so I can try a drink I saw going viral on TikTok then I'll head over to my mom's house to drop coco off." I look back at coco than at my camera as I speaking

"So, this is the drink I got and y'all already know I had to get my grilled cheese! Tew good." I showcase my order to my camera as I get the drink and my grilled cheese sandwich. I eat and drink my order as I make my way over to my mom's house.

I get there and ring the doorbell repeatedly to which she opens the door. "Esme gimme the damn dog so I can go back to sleep too damn early for this shit" she speaks groggily with an attitude.

"It's actually one though...and I don't even get a hello wooow" I joke with her knowing we were on the phone last night.

"Esme quit playin' with me and give me the damn dog."

"Damn here, Bye coco bye mama." I hand her coco and walk back to my car hearing her hum bye back.

"Ok so now that I dropped Coco off imma just head back home and hopefully Jaz is back so we can pack together." I talk to my camera as I start driving back home. . . . . .

I finally get back, unlocking my door to see Jaz in the kitchen getting a snack. "Oh, hey Esme" she turns and greets me.

"Hey sweetheart, did u have fun with your Lil boo," I ask with a smirk.

"Girl yes I have to fill you in on literally everything so fir-".

I cut her off before she started ranting on about what she and Yoongi did. "Before you even start let's pack while you tell me what y'all did because I know you ain't start yet and I know you gon be talking for a good minute. "

"You right" she laughs knowing what I said was true.

We both go into my room and start packing for the trip tomorrow.

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A/N: I edited this chapter WAYY more than the second time and I'm actually happy with the beginning chapter and I made this chapter before the whole Starbucks boycott  so that's why they were mentioned I DO NOT SUPPORT them at all not even to the slightest degree

Please like and comment 🙏🏾

— 1089 words —

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Starlight Eyes ~ B.SK

🌟Who; Boo Seungkwan x female reader (Y/N) 🌟What; Fluff. Seungkwan-centric. Some hurt at the beginning(I don't know if it's classed as angst or not). Briefly mentioned background memberxmember relationships. Reader is older(3 years). Staff!reader. Idol/canon verse. 🌟Wordcount; 14k 🌟Warnings; Alcohol consumption (nobody is shown drunk though). Period talk. Mention of doctors. Suggestive themes. Adult language/profanity. Seungcheol's injury is mentioned a few times. :(( I think that's it but please let me know if I've missed anything!

🌟Summary; The past months together were supposed to be his way of forming a connection with you that would allow you to see him in a romantic manner like you had started to with Seungcheol last year. But it seemed it had just made Seungkwan's feelings burn brighter and his crush turn into something more.

Ao3 link -Find my other writing here -

A/N; This was originally a self-indulgent story with an original character, not a reader insert so there may be some OC stuff I missed during editing so sorry if you see "her/hers/she" when it should be you/yours. Also, I know nothing about the members' personal lives so ignore any inaccuracies there, this is just fanfiction, it's not supposed to be realistic. <3

After all these years, all this time, now that everyone was finally accepting that it would never happen, it happened.

"We're dating," Jeonghan informed the group at large, his right hand holding Seungcheol's left, fingers laced and the older looking very shy as he smiled down at his own feet unable to meet the eyes of any of the 12 in front of them.

"Uh, should I leave?" You asked awkwardly, hands hovering over Minghao's head from where you had been playing with his hair.

"No, why would you suddenly leave?" Jeonghan asked confused, giving you a genuinely bewildered look.

"Because this sounds like family stuff not-"

"Don't," Seungcheol warned, lifting his head to land a firm look on you. "Don't try and say you're not one of us, Y/N because you are."

"Yeah, you're our girl," Jeonghan agreed. "We wanted to tell all of you together, you all should know about this at the same time."

"Okay," You agreed softly, not looking entirely convinced but you turned back down to focus back on playing with Minghao's hair in the way he only really let you do.

Seungkwan wasn't really aware of what was said after that because his attention was on you and the downturn of your lips. You weren't very close, the two of you, though you both still did value each other greatly; just like all of Seventeen did with you and you returned those fond feelings. You had been one of their staff for a while; mostly closest to 95 line as you were the same age as them, and had taken on the role of Seungcheol's personal physiotherapist despite the fact that you were actually a makeup artist. But all 13 young men adored you and you loved them all back just as much so your role was much more than just another staff member to them. Still, Seungkwan didn't really spend any time with you alone and that was okay for you both. But he still had always easily noticed your mannerisms and quirks, so he noticed the way you started to shrink into yourself as the others all congratulated the new couple, after making them both promise that it wasn't some kind of joke that Jeonghan had convinced Seungcheol to go along with. Seungkwan noticed you wilt and didn't understand how no one else did.

To celebrate the new couple, you all went to karaoke, even if you didn't drink and never actually sang but you always watched with a smile, just happy to be involved and thought of. Though this time, Seungkwan noticed you take the shot of soju that Seokmin had poured then promptly abandoned to run screaming excitedly over to the machine and join the song, already tipsy. At that point, Seungkwan stopped drinking.

Although Seungkwan did see you swallow down a fair few drinks over the night while no one was looking, you didn't really seem any different; smiles a little lazier and slightly cuddlier than normal as you tucked up against Wonwoo- who mostly stayed in his seat at your side- but still pretty much the same you as always. Seungkwan wondered if the older man noticed his companion drinking too or not.

Inevitably, as it happened every time you all hung out, you got up after a while to get some air and have a break from all the noise. Wonwoo smiled at you as you got up, his own smile a little drunken making you giggle and pat his cheek fondly before you left the room, putting a bowl of snacks in Soonyoung's hands as you passed him. You were always taking care of them like that; in little ways that added up to a lot. It wasn't a surprise that they all loved you an awful lot.

After a few minutes, Seungkwan got up and said he was going to the bathroom, not that anyone really noticed, then went out of the room, then out to the little courtyard designated for smokers but he knew you liked to sit on the bench right in the corner out of the way. "Hey," He greeted gently when he was close enough, causing you to lift your head up from where it was tilted back against the wall behind you with your eyes closed.

"Hi," You replied in the same tone while lifting your head more to watch him sit too.

"Everything okay?"

"Just needed a break, you know I need to escape it after a while."

"Mm, I know, but I meant more that you've been drinking."

"Ah, you noticed?" He hummed in confirmation. You sighed and tilted your head back again to stare up at the sky ahead; dark and too full of light pollution in the city to see the stars. "It's sad, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"That real beauty is hidden from us because we as a species rely on the artificial too much."

"Uh, that was deeper than I expected." He admitted, making you laugh. He smiled a little, glad that you weren't feeling bad enough to not laugh, and then he shuffled to copy your position and look up at the sky. "You'd like Jeju; there's this hill I go to when I visit my family, I never see as many stars as I do right there."

"Sounds peaceful."

"Mm, it is."

"I'd like to see that one day. If we're ever in Jeju together, do you think you could show me?" You tilted your head to look at him. He felt your gaze on him so he glanced over and then tilted his head too to meet your eyes in return.

Sometimes, Seungkwan really loved that you were the exact same height; being the same level made a lot of your professional interactions a lot easier when you had to adjust his makeup on set. But at times like this when there was already something hanging heavy in the air and Seungkwan's own chest had been twisted horribly for the past hours, he kind of hated it, that your open gaze was level with his. He could never escape it when you looked at him.

"Yeah, I'll take you wherever you want, noona." He replied honestly, tone a touch past just gentle now, turning more soft. "Even if we aren't scheduled to go to Jeju together, I'll take you one day when our schedules allow it."

"Really?" He nodded and you lit up. "I'd really like that, Kwanie."

"Mm, me too." He agreed, making your smile widen as his own turned up one side of his closed mouth. "That doesn't really answer what's wrong though. I'm pretty sure you're not really drinking because of not being able to see the stars." You sighed and turned your head back skywards though Seungkwan kept his full attention on you. He couldn't help but imagine what you would look like with the starlight reflected in your eyes instead of the orange of the fairy lights strung up in the courtyard. Still, artificial light or not, Seungkwan thought you looked beautiful. "Is it hyungs?" He asked carefully, not wanting to make things worse but wanting to get to the bottom of this to try and figure out how to make it better. "Coups and Jeonghan getting together? I…You like Coups-hyung, right?"

"I…no…a little." You admitted with a heavy breath. "I knew I never stood a chance anyway, he's been talking about asking Hannie out for weeks now so I really knew it was coming."

"You did?" Seungkwan was genuinely shocked. "Your response seemed like you didn't know."

"I didn't know when it was happening, or if Cheol-ah was actually going to have the balls to do it, they've been on the cusp of this since before I even met you all, after all."

"Mm, they have." He confirmed. "You really aren't hurt over it?"

"No," You laughed a little. "I'm happy for them, they're good together regardless of romantic status. I don't imagine much will change with them anyway, they've been very unsubtly sneaking off to make out and probably fuck for a while."

"What?" Seungkwan muttered dumbly. "They've been what?"

You looked at him and upon spotting his flat expression you straightened up with an amused expression. "You didn't know?" He shook his head. "Oh, here I was thinking you're one of the observant ones, you always notice when I need something."

"That's you though." He replied without thought then blushed and looked away, back up at the sky. "Uhm, like, it's easier to see when you need something compared to them because they've always been close and affectionate and disappear randomly so it's normal."

"Ah, I see." You hummed in understanding and tilted back again.

The pair of you were silent for a few minutes as Seungkwan focused on calming his racing heart and heated cheeks. He really thought that he had given himself away then. "So," He started, tone back to gentle. "If not because you're hurt, why are you sad, noona?"

"I just…" You sighed heavily. "It's fucking stupid."

"If it hurts, it's not stupid."

"I'm not usually bothered by this, I'm just…I don't know, sensitive, at the moment. Hormones, you know?"

"Mm," He hummed a little, understanding that you were referring to your incoming period. It wasn't something that you ever discussed with any of them exactly, though you did usually take time off every month routinely so the group had very early on been worried and asked you if something was wrong at home or something. And then you had very honestly said that it was because your period pains were worse on those days and you couldn't face people. Ever since, the guys had always had your favourite chocolate and snacks delivered to your apartment on those days to cheer you up a little; and you always hugged them all extra tight on the day you returned. So Seungkwan did know that you were due any day and even had a symbol on his personal calendar to remind him; he always intended to send you flowers but could never gather the courage to do it. He thought he was a lot like Seungcheol in that way. But at least everyone had known that Jeonghan returned Seungcheol's affection, nobody knew if you returned Seungkwan's feelings, or even that he had those feelings in the first place.

"Do you…do you ever just see people being all happy and in love and it just hits you that you don't have that?"

"Oh," He swallowed a little, surprised by your words because you had never seemed to care about romantic relationships for yourself even if you were all for others finding love. Honestly, some of Seventeen had even entertained the possibility that you were aromantic. So you saying this right now and admitting to being upset over being single was genuinely a shock to Seungkwan. "Yeah," He agreed in a soft exhale after a few seconds of absorbing your words. "Quite a lot, honestly." He chuckled a little, embarrassed and scratched his neck awkwardly. "I didn't expect it to be something you think about. That sounds mean, doesn't it? Or rude. Just not nice. I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," You giggled and reached over to take his hand into yours and hold it on the wood of the bench seat between you. "I don't; think about it really, I mean. Like I said, hormones prompted it today. I'm usually fine single, you obviously know that I'm generally not interested in romance. "

"Y-yeah, you've never dated in all the time I've known you." He was staring down at your hands between you. It wasn't the first time that you two had held hands but it was the first where you were having a conversation about romance in what could be considered a romantic setting, fairy lights and the night sky. Seungkwan was half convinced you could feel his racing pulse through your connected palms.

"I don't gain real attraction easily." You admitted softly. "In any way. I can see someone and think about them in a sexual manner but I wouldn't ever do something about it. I need a connection first, for either romantic or sexual relationships. But I don't like meeting people, it's too much hassle and anxiety so I'm not really giving myself the chance to develop any connection with anyone. I think that's mostly why I started to like Cheol because we were spending so much time together during his injury that we got closer and I'm not stupid, he's a wonderful, attractive man."

"Hyung's great." Seungkwan agreed quietly, mind whirling with all the new information.

"He is. You all are." You squeezed his hand gently, sending his heart tripping over itself a little which only grew when you adjusted your hold and your first two fingers slipped through the gaps of his last two. You had never locked fingers before. Seungkwan was halfway to a heart attack, he was certain. "I didn't expect anyone to notice something is, well not wrong; I'll get over this quickly, but not right I guess. Even Wonwoo didn't seem to notice and he's been next to me for the past two hours. It's always you, huh?" You turned your head to look at him again. Seungkwan took a breath before he bravely turned his head to look at you and meet your fond gaze. His breath caught in his throat and that heart attack was coming on very quickly now. "You always do so much for others, Seungkwan-ah, you work so hard to make others happy and feel loved. I hope that you feel it back tenfold. You really deserve it, you know?"

"Noona," He breathed out, feeling all his affection for you rising up to his throat. If he wasn't careful, it was going to come tumbling out so he pressed his lips together to hold it in.

"You'll let me know, won't you? If there's something I can do to make you happy, Kwannie." Those were dangerous words because all Seungkwan wanted was your lips on his, to know how you tasted behind the peach soju that you had been drinking intermittently all night. "Hm?" You prompted when he didn't say anything, his gaze just roaming over your face and trying to stick on your mouth as much as he was trying to not let it. "You'll let me know-"

"Kiss me," He blurted out breathlessly, eyes now glued to your lips and unable to look away.

"Wh-what?" You stammered, lifting your head to look at him utterly gobsmacked. But Seungkwan didn't really notice what your expression was doing as he straightened up in time with you, drawn like a magnet to you in a way that he usually had such good control over but his heart wasn't letting up and he didn't even realise that he was leaning in. Seungkwan's lips barely brushed yours before your hand was free from his and you were pushing him back, touch still gentle even as you cleared yourself space to get to your feet. "What the fuck?" You whispered, staring down at him with wide eyes of pure shock.

And that was what had Seungkwan's own eyes widening as he registered what had just happened, what he had just done. He had asked you to kiss him and then made the move himself when you had been too shocked to react otherwise. He had been so drawn to your soft-looking lips that he hadn't even paid attention to you properly. But now that there was distance between you and your fingers were no longer linked with his, Seungkwan knew.

"I'm so sorry," He rushed out, whole body flashing between hot and cold as panic and guilt squeezed his heart. "I-"

"We should get back." You spoke, voice odd, almost cold but not quite. It made Seungkwan's heart turn to ice in his chest. You were looking at him as if you didn't even know him and it hurt so much. You didn't wait for him to respond before you turned and went back into the building.

Seungkwan couldn't will his body to move, stock still with pain and fear. He had never wanted to confess to you in any way because he was certain that you didn't return the feelings and liked Seungcheol as of the past months; since you had headed back to Seoul with Seungcheol from Japan after tour while the rest of them went to Italy to film Nana Tour. Seungkwan had immediately noticed that something had changed when he saw you two face to face upon returning to Seoul but he hadn't been brave enough to confront you about it and just cradled his bruised heart closer to his chest. But now, what Seungkwan didn't want to happen, happened; you had rejected him. You pushed him away and broke his heart with a still so gentle touch that he honestly wished that you had been brutal, it would've somehow hurt less than this. Seungkwan was left there, heart in pieces not just for the rejection but knowing he had really messed up and now, he really wasn't sure if you would want to call him a friend any more.

How long Seungkwan sat there was an absolute mystery, he didn't move a single muscle, just sat there, staring brokenly wide-eyed at the door, tears silently slipping down his cheeks and hands gripping the edge of the bench either side of his thighs.

And then.

"Boo?" It was Hansol, stepping out into the courtyard in search of his best friend. But upon seeing Seungkwan's distraught expression through the glass of the door, Hansol's heart had seized with worry. "What happened?" He asked, rushing over to kneel on the slab in front of Seungkwan, one hand on Seungkwan's pressed-together knees and his other tenderly wiping the tears away, though more fell as Seungkwan came back to reality and he realised he was crying.

"I-I really fu-fucked up, Nonie," Seungkwan choked out before breaking down into sobs that made Hansol's heart break into pieces and join his best friend's on the floor around them.

It wasn't until they were tucked up in Seungkwan's bed together, Seungkwan's eyes swollen from his tears though no longer falling that Seungkwan actually told Hansol what happened. He hadn't really been in any state to talk at the karaoke bar and Hansol hadn't wanted to risk someone walking in on his fellow idol bawling his eyes out. So Hansol had tried to take Seungkwan back to the room yet he refused, making Hansol call Junhui out as one of the designated drivers for the night. Junhui did have every intention of complaining about being forced to drive them home and then come back, but upon seeing the state of the young man on the bench, Junhui drove them home before going back to the karaoke bar without a single complaint.

The pair were still alone even though they had taken the time to shower and attempt some kind of skincare routine for Seungkwan around his sniffles but he didn't have the heart to care and Hansol only had so much knowledge. Still, they both had clean, soft skin when they climbed into bed together to cuddle up in the way Hansol knew always soothed Seungkwan.

"Are you ready to talk about it now, Boo?"

Seungkwan curled up smaller against Hansol's chest, the younger on his back, his left arm around Seungkwan's back but folded up to run through the older's hair, his right hand over Seungkwan's left on Hansol's chest. "I fucked up."

"Mm, you said. With what? Y/N-noona?" Seungkwan flinched a little, confirming Hansol's words. "She left before I came out to you, she told me to check on you. Did you have a fight?" He sounded as if he didn't even believe it was possible; Seungkwan and you fighting, which was pretty true really as you two had never butted heads in any way.

"Not exactly." Seungkwan's voice was barely audible, half muffled against Hansol's chest and just very quiet anyway because he didn't really want to speak these words but figured he should. It was about time he told his best friend the truth. "I…I kissed her." Hansol tensed a little, genuinely surprised at his friend's words. "Well, tried to. She pushed me away."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know you like her that much. I've noticed you treat her differently to other women but I figured it was just because she's different to us all anyway, staff but a precious friend too. I thought it was mostly that and maybe a little crush but for you to try to kiss her? You really like her, huh, Boo?"

"Yeah," He choked out and turned his face further into Hansol's chest while gripping at his t-shirt. "I like her so fucking much th-that my heart is broken right now. S-she pushed me away and looked at me like-like she doesn't know me. I'm so fucking scared I've ruined everything, Vernon. Wh-what if she ne-never talk-"

"Alright, take a breath." Hansol soothed, knowing Seungkwan was on the verge of breaking down again and honestly, Hansol was not strong enough to handle that again. Seungkwn held on tighter as he obediently focused on taking some deep, slow though relatively unsteady breaths until he could breathe evenly again. He slumped back against his best friend and turned his head back around. "You haven't ruined anything, Seungkwan-ah." He promised. "Y/N-noona is not the type of person to ditch someone precious to her because of a love confession."

"I-I didn't confess." Seungkwan admittedly quietly.

"What?" Hansol mumbled puzzled. "You just randomly kissed her?"

"No. I asked her to kiss me first but I guess I just, got caught on the thought and leaned in without really realising."

"Uhm, okay and why did you ask her to kiss you?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot." He huffed. "She was just…" He exhaled heavily. "It felt a lot, sitting there with her like that and she was talking and saying things and I just always get so caught up listening to her and stuck in how much I like her and she was holding my hand and you know I'm so weak for hand holding and she-" He took a much-needed breath when Hansol tapped his back a little, a silent reminder to breathe. "She basically told me to tell her what she can do to make me happy because she said I do so much for others and deserve to feel as loved and cared for as I make others feel and I just…"

"Asked her to kiss you?" Seungkwan nodded, cheeks warm enough that Hansol could feel the increased temperature easily through his sleep t-shirt. Not that he'd point that out. "And then you kissed her and she shoved you back?"

"No, not shoved just, pushed really gently. I think I'd prefer she had shoved me. Somehow, the soft touch hurts so much more."

"It's because she cares about you, Boo, too much to be so harsh with you. That's good, it means she won't want to lose you over this either." Hansol soothed, hand back in Seungkwan's hair and right thumb brushing over the back of Seungkwan's left hand. "It'll be okay. It might be a little weird at work tomorrow but it won't last."

As it turns out, Hansol was wrong, not because it was weird at work the next day but because you didn't turn up at all.

It was five days before Seungkwan saw you again; you had called off like you did every month though usually it was only a few days, not five. But you had answered the group chat like normal and just said it was just a little extra pain this month and you were fine and did not need Mingyu to come over and feed you handmade soup as it was just a period and you were not ill. The others had been persuaded and simply sent you more treats and funny videos while you were gone. But Seungkwan was convinced that you were avoiding him and well, Hansol's frown told Seungkwan that his best friend had the same thought.

When Seungkwan did see you, however, he really hadn't expected to. He was at a solo photo shoot for one of the brands he was an ambassador for and saw you waiting in his dressing room when he entered. You were dressed ready for work; supply belt strapped around your hips and a makeup brush in your fingers as you twirled it absentmindedly where you were leaning back against the counter in wait, eyes on the empty chair in front of you.

"Noona," He mumbled as he stepped through the open doorway. The brush flew out of your fingers at his sudden voice, making you both yelp a little as it pinged across the room. You both stared in the general vicinity of where it had fallen on the floor somewhere out of sight, then you huffed an amused laugh and pushed off of the counter.

"Come on, they told me to deal with you myself seeing as it's a simple outfit and look today." You mused, motioning him in as you walked over to the clothing rack where only one outfit was set up in wait; jeans, a t-shirt and a soft cardigan. "Kwan-ah?" You prompted when he remained in place. You looked over at him. "Are you going to come in and shut the door or are you changing at the threshold in view of everyone?"

"Right," He mumbled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him then slowly approached, twisting his fingers together nervously as he neared. "J-just us?"

"Mm, we've worked with this team enough that they trust me to pretty you up alone, not that you need prettying up." You smiled at him, teasing as you tended to when talking to the guys about how attractive they were. But your smile faltered a little when you took his features in properly. He looked paler than usual with dark marks under his eyes and lips a little dry. "Kwan-ah," You breathed out, putting the hangers back on the rack to free your hands so that you could turn and delicately take his face into your hands. Seungkwan immediately felt his eyes sting a little with the threat of tears. He had been so scared that you would never touch him again that feeling your skin so tenderly against his own felt like an awful lot. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." You spoke softly, thumbs gently brushing over his cheeks. Your lips turned down further as you watched a tear drip down his cheek. "I never want to hurt you. You truly are someone I value greatly, you know that, right?"

"I-I was scared you wouldn't anymore."

"Silly boy," You teased, the left side of your mouth quirking up a little. "Knowing the wonderful man you are, how kind and caring you are, I really don't think there is anything you could ever do that would make me stop caring about you and want you in my life."

"You were gone for five days, noona."

"Yeah, I know." You frowned and started to lower your hands but he quickly put his own over your wrists and held you to him; you didn't try to pull away again and let him lead your touch back to his cheeks obligingly. He wasn't usually one to ask you for affection so you really weren't going to turn him away now that he finally had. "I just…I was being a coward. I was scared too, about how this would go, seeing you again after that. I felt so bad for leaving like that but I just…ran away. I'm not very emotionally competent, Kwan-ah," You admitted with a little pout that made his lips quirk up a little. "I've never been in that situation so I didn't know what to do. I should've just faced you the next day and not made you suffer these past days but I used my upcoming period as an excuse. If it helps though, I was genuinely in more pain this month so we both suffered."

"That doesn't make me feel better." He answered with a concerned frown. "I never want you to suffer, even if I am, I never want that for you." He brushed his thumbs over your wrists delicately. "Is everything okay? Why was it more painful?"

"I don't know, just one of those things I guess." You shrugged carelessly making his frown worsen.

"Noona, you can't be so careless about your health. What if it's a sign that something's wrong?"

"I can't go to the doctor because I had a more painful period than usual, Kwan-ah," You sighed, gently pulling your hands away to reach back and grab the hangers. He let out a displeased breath but obediently followed the silent instructions and removed his shoes to kick aside carelessly while unzipping his coat to remove. "They barely take periods seriously anyway, a one-off will be dismissed and a waste of my time going for."

"If it's worse again next month, you will go then?" He tossed his coat aside blindly in the direction of the couch. It fell short and landed on the floor but he didn't care.

"They'll dismiss it." You informed simply, watching as he removed his hoodie to also toss aside.

"Please, for me?" He requested, stopping with one arm out of his t-shirt to put his hand to yours over the hangers pleadingly.

"Fine," You conceded with a heavy sigh. "But if they just dismiss it, I get to say I told you so."

"Mm, okay. I'll even buy your favourite ice cream." He chuckled, taking the clothes from you to take to the couch and get changed there.

Even though Seungkwan was not particularly confident in his body he had changed in front of you so many times over the past two years- it was all part of being an idol with staff members around all the time during outfit changes- that he didn't even stop to think about the fact it was the first time that you two were alone while he changed, in a shut room. At least until you approached to start folding his own discarded clothes neatly so they didn't crease. And then Seungkwan looked at you, his own trousers around his ankles from just pushing them down and freezing. You could definitely see his dark boxer briefs as the plain white t-shirt stopped just below the waistband of his underwear. Suddenly, he was very self-conscious and aware of the fact you were alone and he had felt your lips brush his.

"Are you being Seungcheol?" You teased noticing him just stop and stand there. You didn't even look up at him and instead lowered down to your knees in front of him making his chest tighten and his fingers grip the edge of his borrowed t-shirt while he swallowed thickly. You didn't even notice, your hands were already on him; one on the back of his left calf and the other on the hem of his trouser leg. "Up." You encouraged. Numbly, Seungkwan lifted his left leg to allow you to pull his trousers off over his sock and then put his foot down before you swapped to his right leg to repeat the process efficiently. You leaned back and laid his trousers on the couch before grabbing the jeans off of the hanger.

It wasn't the first time that you had physically dressed a Seventeen member; Seungcheol especially since he hurt his knee, had required help with his trousers, socks and shoes and although he was healed now and capable, he still pouted at you until you helped him. Jeonghan could be pretty lazy too, especially near the end of concerts so you had more than once literally stripped him down to his boxers and redressed him when he was being too difficult for other staff who did not have a close enough relationship with the guys to do as much. The first few times had made Jeonghan blush and flustered for a while after, but these days he let it happen without any fuss. Mingyu was another who wanted to be doted on like Seungcheol, though he either went into playful flirt mode which always resulted in you either pinching or biting him depending on if your hands were busy, or he got shy and made it difficult for you as he tried to hide away despite whining for your help in the first place. The others always wondered how you could put up with Mingyu like that but you just shrugged and said it didn't bother you really as your job was to get them ready for the fans or cameras. Nobody ever pointed out that your job was only to do their makeup but you always went above and beyond what you were actually paid for. They liked you doting too much to want you to ever stop. Though they often tried to convince their higher-ups to increase your pay, something you genuinely were clueless about. The only time you had ever refused to help any of them dress was the one time Wonwoo had very uncharacteristically boldly called you over after a Hip Hop Unit stage, dressed in red leather and shining with sweat. You had taken one look at him and dismissively turned to touch up Jihoon's makeup again even though you had just finished. Nobody really knew what happened for you to refuse, though they were pretty sure it was some kind of disagreement between you two as you had both been kind of tense before that despite usually getting along really well. Seungkwan had actually suspected you two to be dating around that time and it was a lovers quarrel, but then he walked in on Wonwoo and Mingyu making out a few days later and realised he was very wrong.

"Are we tucking today?" You asked when the jeans were up over Seungkwan's ass and on his hips though still open. "Mm, it doesn't look long enough to tuck." You commented in answer to your own question, head tilted a little as you looked at the t-shirt still grasped in Seungkwan's grasp.

The door suddenly opened making Seungkwan inhale in slightly panicked surprise. Though to his relief, it was Hansol who entered, a carrier with three drinks in it balanced on his palm. "Uh," The younger male spoke, eyes wide on the position of the pair of you.

"Didn't know anyone was coming to watch Kwanie today." You commented after smiling in greeting at the young man while he awkwardly entered the room and shut the door behind him. You turned back to Seungkwan and reached out to do his jeans up for him, with hands now skilled at dressing and undressing others.

"Uhm, I heard you'd be here today so I thought I'd come like, check in," Hansol admitted, putting the drinks on the counter. Seungkwan gave his best friend a grateful looking knowing he actually meant that he was there to be moral support for Seungkwan.

"Ah," You made a noise of understanding and pointed to the shoes by the rack. "Grab those, would you?" Hansol nodded and quickly grabbed the shoes to take over and hand over. He stood a few feet behind you and silently watched as you helped Seungkwan into the shoes and made them all neat before you got to your feet.

It was very clear to the youngest that Seungkwan was feeling some things from having his crush, you, on your knees in front of him and clearly you had been there for a little while dressing Seungkwan, judging by how wide his eyes were and red his cheeks. Hansol wished he could help his friend out in some way but there wasn't anything he could realistically do.

You made short work of getting Seungkwan into the cardigan before leading him over to the makeup chair to get started. All while Seungkwan just let you. He kept his lips together and eyes big on you to watch you move around and take charge of getting him ready for the photo shoot so naturally that he wondered why you ever said that you didn't like being in charge of people. You always handled the guys so well and often delegated tasks amongst the staff yet when you had been offered a higher-paid position as head makeup artist, you had refused on the grounds that it was too much responsibility and pressure being in charge. Seungkwan wondered if you actually realised how much the rest of the staff and even the 13 idols listened to you, especially during changes backstage at concerts. You didn't get paid to take charge but you were the only one willing to get physical with the guys to get them where they needed to be or step in to calm them down when their tensions ran high.

"You haven't been doing your routine." You commented when you were leaning in closer to Seungkwan to carefully work on adding the tinted balm to his lips, the last step of the standard natural look routine you did to them all for these calmer shoots.

"Sorry," Seungkwan whispered back, fingers twisted in the hem of his t-shirt again; it was very creased at this point but neither of you had even noticed.

"Shall we do an intensive session later? We haven't done one of those in a while."

"Really?" His heart thrummed excitedly at the thought of spending an hour alone with you taking care of his skin. He always felt so relaxed and content after those sessions but it had truly been a while since your last, months.

"Mm." You hummed in confirmation, then leaned back and stepped away to give him the freedom to get up. You looked at your right hand where leftover balm was on the tip of your middle finger from dabbing it to his lips, then at your empty left hand. You usually had a tissue in hand but you hadn't picked one up today. Seungkwan looked at the counter with every intention of grabbing a tissue for you but your usual box wasn't there, nor your wipes. Without warning, you turned and approached Hansol and held his jaw in your clean hand to apply the balm to his lips. He had been kind of alarmed at the sudden grab, even if it was rather gentle in your true fashion, but quickly understood and just stood still and let you. He even smacked his lips together when you pulled your right hand back, making you giggle. Hansol smiled at you and Seungkwan watched, looking between you two and, not for the first time, he noticed how good you looked together. Then again, he thought you looked good next to any of his members. He wondered if anyone ever thought that he looked good with you. Probably not.

"What's going on with Boo's hair?" Hansol asked curiously, causing you to turn back around to Seungkwan.

"I don't need to do anything, Kwanie already looks handsome enough," You informed, though approached to run your left fingers through his hair a little just to fix the strands that getting changed had messed up.

"Seungkwanie is really handsome already, huh, noona?" Hansol grinned to himself as he watched Seungkwan fluster a little at your genuine praise.

"Mm, people will be more interested in Seungkwanie than the product," You continued, knowing Hansol was baiting you to tease his friend and willing to play along.

"Stop," Seungkwan whined a little. "You're being ridiculous."

"Excuse you, I am being honest." You scolded and gently tilted his head upwards to meet your eyes. "You're beautiful, Boo Seungkwan." Even with the concealers and foundation on his skin, Seungkwan's resulting blush could be spotted.

Hansol watched Seungkwan's expression melt under your honest gaze, nothing but pure unfiltered adoration in his eyes. Hansol wondered if Seungkwan had always looked at you in that way when he thought that no one was looking and able to call him out on it, or if it was now something he was unable to hide since his truth came out. He wondered if you saw Seungkwan's gaze and knew what it meant, how the kiss wasn't his full truth.

Since that day at his solo shoot, when Seungkwan had more personal time with you than he ever had and really understood that you truly saw no change in your relationship despite the kiss attempt, he had slowly invited you to spend time together more and more. He had always wanted to spend more time with you but he had been too scared of his feelings coming out and ruining things, but that had already happened and you were perhaps closer than you had ever been.

Over the past few months, you went from seeing each other pretty much just at work or when you were hanging out with other members and Seungkwan happened to be there too, to texting every day often with video calls at night as you both unwound and did your nightly skincare routines together, and spending time together alone outside of work with none of the other members.

At first, Seungkwan had been worried that you wouldn't want to spend so much time with him but you had always happily agreed to spend time together and had even started to suggest hanging out yourself; at first with something specific in mind like visiting something that you felt you'd both enjoy or to get a meal, but then you would just ask to hang out with no plan in mind. The first time you had admitted that you had no plans and just wanted to spend time with him, Seungkwan had honest-to-god almost burst his heart through his chest like something out of an old cartoon. It still made his heart flutter madly when you would skip over to him and cutely hold onto his arm to request quality time with handsome Seungkwanie, but he had a much better control over his heart these days. Well, for the most part.

"What are we doing here?" Seungkwan muttered alarmed, heart racing with nerves in his chest as he woodenly followed you into the bridal boutique; the same one he had visited a few weeks ago with his sister to pick up her wedding dress and his suit.

"Unnie said she's put aside a few options for me." You replied simply.

"Options? For what?" He worried, following you over to the reception desk. "Noona?" He hissed desperately but you were already talking to the staff; the same woman who had served him last time. He was wearing a mask and cap this time but he was pretty sure the woman recognised him based on the smile she shot his way. He bowed a little in polite greeting. Seungkwan felt so out of his depth even as he was led over to the dressing rooms and told to sit on the couch, just like his first visit here to help his sister pick out her dress with her best friend and their mother.

And then he was alone as you went into the room and the staff wandered off, though returned minutes later with a few dresses all in the soft lilac Naeryin had picked for her bridal party, him included. Seungkwan's throat dried with nerves. Were you invited to the wedding? He knew that you and Naeryin had developed a friendship of sorts since you met a little over a year ago at one of Seventeen's concerts and would meet when Naeryin was in Seoul on those rare times, but neither of you had ever said a word about you attending the wedding. He genuinely did not know if he could handle seeing you surrounded by his family like that, like you were one of them.

Seungkwan had been so caught up in his worries that he hadn't even noticed the door open until the staff stood from where she was perched on the stool and clapped happily. Seungkwan looked up and saw you standing shyly in a silky lilac off-the-shoulder dress that gathered in at your waist highlighting your curvy figure and stopped just above your knees. Seungkwan could see the hint of a tattoo on your right thigh; he didn't even know that you had tattoos and the thought made him kind of lightheaded. Well, more than he already was.

"What do you think?" You asked nervously, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bra on show thanks to the sleeves. "I'd wear a different bra, of course so imagine without the straps." You encouraged, big eyes locked on Seungkwan who was just staring dumbly at you and wishing he hadn't removed his mask and hat because now his awestruck expression was embarrassingly in full view.

"You look so beautiful!" The staff enthused when Seungkwan remained silent. You smiled gratefully and turned your attention to the staff who approached to coo over how well the dress suited you and literally looked tailored to your body despite being off the rack. "You two are going to look so beautiful together, have you seen your boyfriend's suit? He looks so handsome in it!"

"Uhm, he's not my boyfriend." You corrected softly, cheeks a little pink and gaze suddenly focused down on the skirt as you fiddled with it. "Friends."

"Oh, I apologise, I just thought because his sister personally set aside options for you to attend her wedding and asked for silk like her brother's shirt…I assumed. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You assured, placing a gentle hand on the staff's arm comfortingly. "I'll go change back. I'm more than happy with this dress so I won't try the others." Then you were back in the dressing room, the door clicking to a lock behind you and Seungkwan still hadn't moved a muscle.

It took until you were at your usual coffee shop, at your usual table at the back half hidden behind a divider and plants, that Seungkwan managed to actually say a word.

"You're coming to the wedding?" He asked, fingers playing with the edge of his mug as he stared down at it.

"Mm, the makeup artist that unnie picked turned out to be really uncomfortable to be around when the girls went to trial their looks for the day, and so unnie asked me if I could help them out as they had decided to just do each other's makeup instead of stressing to find a wedding makeup artist in time. Of course, I said yes and then unnie said I should now accept the invite seeing as I'll be there anyway," You shrugged and then sipped at your drink.

"Noona invited you already?" You nodded in confirmation. "And you said no?"

"I wouldn't really know anyone and would feel really out of place and anxious the whole time."

"You'd know me."

"Mm, but you're her man of honour, Kwan-ah, you have duties to attend to so I didn't want to add more on top. I know you'd feel responsible for looking after me and making sure I'm comfortable." He opened his mouth as if to argue but then closed it again making you giggle. You both knew that he would be doing exactly that. "But I have a real purpose for being there now, and I met the girls through video chat and they're lovely so I think I'll be okay and you won't need to worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you." He replied automatically in a gentle tone. You peered up at him and then aside, eyes unintentionally landing on your dress laid over the back of the seat on your right side in a protective black dress bag to keep it clean. Seungkwan followed your gaze automatically and recalled how you had looked in the dress and how he had lost all ability to talk. He felt guilty for not telling you how beautiful you looked. Bravely, he took the chance to now. "I should've said this earlier when you asked but I think you look so beautiful in that dress, noona." You slid your eyes back to him, a little rounder now at the compliment. "I was just…lost for words. I've never seen you like that before."

"Yeah, I was worried it would be weird, wearing a dress in front of you." You admitted, directing your focus to your mug between your hands. "I was supposed to go pick a dress a few days ago but I uh, wanted you to be there."

"Me?"

You nodded. "So the first time you see me in a dress isn't the day of the wedding."

Seungkwan knew that you didn't mean it that way, that you weren't talking about your wedding but he was now thinking about it; what kind of dress you would choose to wear when you promised to be by his side forever and love him until the world stops spinning. Seungkwan had never thought of that before; marrying someone specific, being in love with you and spending your lives together, but now that he had, he realised how much he quite liked the thought. The past months together were supposed to be his way of forming a connection with you that would allow you to see him in a romantic manner like you had started to with Seungcheol last year. But it seemed it had just made Seungkwan's feelings burn brighter and his crush turn into something more.

"Kind of desensitise you, I guess?" You continued, unaware of the fact that Seungkwan had just realised and accepted that he was falling in love with you. "Though I guess once isn't enough to desensitise," You mused, lifting your mug to sip at.

"I guess you're going to have to wear dresses around me a lot in the next few weeks." He replied, surprised at how smoothly he had gotten the words out when the thought of seeing you in dresses so much was genuinely giving his lungs some issue drawing in oxygen.

"Kind of impractical to wear at work." You replied, eyes curving with your smile over the edge of your mug.

"Mm, I guess so." He agreed and took a drink before lowering his mug and licking his lips. "Then the only thing to do is spend more time together outside of work."

"That would mean going home and changing instead of going straight to wherever we want to go. We barely make it before closing to a lot of things as it is, Kwan-ah."

"I don't mind." He shrugged, playing it off and looking back down to where his left index finger was tracing over the edge of his mug. "I don't mind what we do, so long as we're together."

"Oh," You licked your lips and looked down yourself, cheeks a little pink and not noticing that his were the exact same. "Me either. I don't mind either. I just like spending time with you."

Seungkwan looked up and noticed how shy you looked with your blush and downturned eyes. Maybe, just maybe his plan had worked and you were starting to like him too. Bravely, he uncrossed his ankles to stretch his leg out just enough to tap his foot to yours lightly. You peered up at him through your lashes for a few seconds before you moved your own foot to be beside his own. Seungkwan's heart thumped and he had to quickly lift his mug to hide the fond dopey smile that lifted his lips.

The weeks until the wedding passed in a blur of flushed cheeks and shy giggles between you two. You made sure to fit in time together at every chance that you both could, and where possible you always wore a dress. The dresses were all casual and comfortable, ranging from simple pinafores to cute summer dresses; all of which stopped around your knees and never showed any more skin than your arms and the slight glimpse at the top of your chest, but every single one made Seungkwan's heart thrum because it was for him. Not quite in the way he wanted but he still hoped and started to believe as the days passed that you were no longer just desensitising him but dressing to look nice for him. He had noticed that sometimes you wore a little more makeup than usual or did something with your hair; he always complimented you on it and felt pride swell in his chest at the way you'd turn shy and blush without fail before taking his hand to lead him off somewhere different every time. At some point in those weeks, it stopped feeling like two friends hanging out and more, dare he say it, like dates. Something Seungkwan regularly screeched to Hansol about when they were safe from others overhearing. He couldn't help but wonder if you had felt the same too.

Then the day arrived that you two travelled to Jeju together ready for the wedding the next day. Of course, Seungkwan had been basically booked in to stay at his parent's house for the weekend but had said to you when you were trying to figure out your own accommodation that he'd get a room at the hotel too so that you could go together. You had refused saying he should stay with his family otherwise they'd be very disappointed and he would regret not taking the chance while he could. He had understood your point, so had just helped you book a hotel for the trip with something hidden in his chest saying that he wouldn't regret it as much as you thought.

There had actually been a bit of a fuss leaving Seoul as somehow people had found out that Seungkwan would be at the airport, but at least you had known ahead of leaving for the airport so Hybe had put together a team to escort you two through the airport safely with a few of the security getting on the flight too in case it was crazy at the other end. But Jeju airport had been pretty much quiet so the staff had gotten back on the next flight back to Seoul after making sure you two were safely in the car Seungkwan had rented for the trip.

Although Seungkwan could drive, he wasn't all that confident about it and it was even worse with you in the car as he didn't want to look incompetent, especially in his home town. You were always the one driving you two around in Seoul and honestly, Seungkwan preferred it that way because there was something really attractive about the way you drove; as if you had no concerns at all and had been driving your whole life. And you always let him put whatever music he wanted on; Seungkwan was pretty sure that lately you had even started to sing along under your breath and he's anticipating the day he actually hears you sing for the first time. So Seungkwan liked it much better when you drove but he had wanted to drive this time so that you could take in everything you passed without having your mind mostly on safety.

Initially, you two had planned for Seungkwan to drive you straight to the hotel to let you settle in and he'd go to his parent's house, but he had looked at you and saw how bright your eyes were as you took in the beautiful sights that he didn't want to part already. So he drove around showing you various things, pointing out places and telling you his associated memories; things he hadn't even really had the chance or urge to tell his members but he wanted you to know. He wanted you to know everything about him and to know everything about you in return.

"Do you think I could go to your home town with you one day?" He requested when he finally pulled up into the drop-off zone outside the hotel, hours after landing and with a few calls from his family wondering where he was. They hadn't said much after he had said that he was showing you around, but he knew that he was going to be bundled with questions from his mother in particular about when he was going to ask you out. Not because Seungkwan had ever told anyone but Hansol about his feelings for you, but because his family just knew him too well, especially his sisters.

"My home town?" You questioned looking at him with one hand on the door handle ready to get out. He nodded. "No."

His face fell a little. "Oh, okay, sorry, I just thought-"

"Not because of you, Kwan-ah," You assured, reaching over to pick his hand up from where it was still resting on the handbrake. "But because I don't want to go back there myself, let alone show someone who means so much to me that part of my life."

"You don't?" He frowned concernedly. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Mm, there's a reason I've been in Seoul as long as I have." You squeezed his hand a little then smiled and removed your seat belt.

"Will you tell me about it? One day?"

"Maybe." You agreed and got out. He quickly followed to help you take your case and large makeup case out of the boot. "Go before your parents call again." You teased, trying to wave him off.

"I will." He agreed though stood there, one hand on the car and the other in the pocket of his shorts. "Go in." He encouraged with a closed-lipped smile on his face as he tilted his chin towards the hotel. You didn't react immediately, just looked at him and he was very certain that your gaze travelled him up and down before you did turn and scuttled off into the hotel. "Did she just check me out?" He muttered in stunned disbelief, finally moving to get back into the car. Once inside he just sat there dumbly, one hand pressed to his juddering heart. "I think she checked me out." He laughed in happy disbelief though jumped when there was a horn behind him. He quickly strapped himself in and disengaged the handbrake to drive off and let the taxi behind pull up.

Seungkwan had already seen you for breakfast which all of the wedding party were invited to at the resort where the wedding was to take place. You had tried to say that you weren't part of the party, just a guest doing makeup but Naeryin had not accepted that at all. Especially as Seungkwan would then be at the resort for the rest of the day making sure that everything was ready and you needed to get there early yourself to start on the bridal makeup and get ready too. So Naeryin had pointed out that it just made sense for you to join them all for breakfast so that her poor little brother didn't have to drive so much and add extra stress on his shoulders; a manipulation that you were very aware was happening but too caring of Seungkwan to avoid.

You two had sat side by side at breakfast and Seungkwan had done his utmost to not be obvious with his feelings in front of his family but clearly, he had failed as his sisters especially kept giving him knowing grins every time he met their eyes. He just stopped looking at them in the end.

But then you had to part ways; Seungkwan to do his duties putting his eye for detail to the test in the actual venue and you to go with the bride and her bridesmaids to help her get ready. Watching you walk off laughing with his sisters had made Seungkwan feel kind of giddy. His family loved you and that made him happier than he could put into words.

Seungkwan had just finished spending a good twenty minutes trying to get one particular strand of hair in the right place, wanting to look perfect for his sister's wedding (and also to impress you) when there was a knock on the door of the room designated to him to get ready for the wedding. He had already been in there for over an hour to shower and get into his grey suit with a lilac silk shirt underneath. You had that morning obligingly given him makeup products for him to apply himself, he really wanted to look perfect for Naeryin's wedding. And he had done a pretty good job if he said so himself, not as good as you would've but good enough.

"Kwan-ah?" Your voice passed through the door making him freeze. He was suddenly hit with the very real thought that he was not ready to face you. "Can I come in? I'm done with the girls so I can help you now, if you want it."

"U-uhm, yeah-yeah, you can come in." He called then swallowed thickly when the door started to open.

Seungkwan's hands fell to his sides and he automatically turned around to face you as you walked into the room. He had already seen you in the dress and that was hard enough to deal with but now that you had your hair done, makeup on and feet strapped into a pair of pretty lilac heels, he really did forget to breathe for a few long seconds.

"Oh," You exhaled when you took in Seungkwan as you approached, your beautifully made-up eyes widening a little even as you came to a stop just out of arms reach. With the heels on, you were a few inches taller than him and usually, Seungkwan would hate that but with you, he didn't even care.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Seungkwan breathed out, chest heaving as he quickly rushed to refill his suddenly burning lungs. You looked away shyly as a blush bloomed on your skin. With your shoulders and the top of your chest exposed like that, Seungkwan could see for the first time that your chest coloured prettily when you blushed. It was probably not a very good piece of information to have right then if he wished to remain sane enough for the wedding. But, too late.

"You should see Naeryin-unnie, she looks like a princess." You replied and looked back up at him. You stepped forward without thought and easily fixed that annoying strand of hair without any hassle.

"I don't doubt it, my sisters are all beautiful. But I can never put you in the same place as any of them, they're my family and you…" He breathed out, fingers ghosting over your arms where they were both still raised, gently brushing your fingers over his face to smooth out any imperfections in his makeup.

Your hands stilled and you redirected your gaze from his cheek to meet his eyes. "I'm what, Kwan-ah?" You asked quietly, almost a whisper between them.

"You know," His expression tightened and turned a little desperate as his fingers curled around your forearms. "You've got to know by now, Y/N."

"I…I have my suspicions." You admitted and licked your berry-stained lips. "When you kissed me, it-it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing, was it?"

Seungkwan swallowed thickly.

Part of him didn't want this conversation to happen, not today of all days when he wasn't certain where it was headed and he already had so much on his shoulders to make sure that his sister had the wedding of her dreams. But the other part of him wouldn't be able to think of anything else if you didn't talk about it now, if you walked away and left it for another time or never again. His heart was so full in his chest, so full of all the little quirks and habits of you that he couldn't not know for certain anymore. He needed to know if the hope in his chest should get shoved back in the bottom of the box for a future Seungkwan, or if he could let it become something more.

"No," He admitted quietly, fingers curling a little further but still not really applying much pressure. You always treated him so carefully that he couldn't help but do the same back.

"And it was more than just…wanting to kiss me?" He nodded a little. "More as in…you like me?"

Seungkwan inhaled softly before nodding. "Yeah, noona, I like you. I liked you so much then that it just overflowed and I couldn't stop it before I realised what I was doing. And now?" He huffed a little laugh. "I like you so fucking much that I'm constantly scared my heart is going to burst from my chest like those cartoons from when we were kids." You laughed a little at his choice of wording but you didn't look like you were laughing at him. If Seungkwan had to pick a word to describe how you were looking at him, he'd say endeared.

"That much that you're turning into a Looney Toon?" You teased, settling one palm more solidly against his cheek while the other moved to press to his chest and felt the jack rabbiting of his heart against your touch. "Sounds pretty serious, Kwan-ah."

"Y-yeah," He swallowed, not entirely sure where this was going but that hope was flitting around his torso disrupting the butterflies that had laid resting in his stomach. "Can you please tell me if you feel the same way or not because it's driving me crazy not knowing, noona," He whispered pleadingly. You smiled gently at him then leaned in to press your lips to his. Seungkwan's hands tightened around your arms and his eyes closed as he kissed you back with his face warming dramatically. "Y-you do? You like me too?" He asked for clarification purposes when you leaned back and watched his eyes flutter open.

"Yeah, Seungkwan, I like you too." You confirmed then giggled when he surged in to kiss you, not that it really worked when you were giggling and he was smiling brightly.

"Let me take you on a date tomorrow." He requested.

"I can't," You frowned a little, which worsened when you watched his face fall. "I promised to go to the spa with your mum tomorrow."

"What?" He blinked at you dumbly. "The spa? With my mum?" You nodded. "Uh…what?"

"Apparently you've told her a bunch of times that I'm the one who always tells you what skincare products to use so she wanted my opinion for her own skin and then it kind of quickly went from agreeing to go product shopping with her to skipping all that and going to the spa."

"Oh," Slowly, Seungkwan's cheeks lifted as he smiled. "I like that, that you're going to do something with my mum. I'm really happy that you get along with my family."

"Me too. I was nervous but they've been so welcoming to me. Sprinkled with not-so-subtle hints that you should be getting married to start a family of your own." You giggled when he whined and tilted down to hide embarrassedly against your neck. You wound your arms around his neck and played with his hair gently to not ruin the styling. Seungkwan's complaints fell silent, too content being in your arms for the first time to be anything but happy while his arms went around your waist. "You have things to do," You remembered after a minute of just holding each other.

"I want to do this."

"We can do this whenever we want, Kwan-ah, Naeryin-unnie only gets her wedding once. At least I hope so, I hope this is a long happy marriage for her, she deserves it."

"She does." He agreed and straightened up to look at you. "I know-I know it's not quite the same, but you deserve a long, happy relationship too, noona. And I hope I can be the person who gives it to you. If you'll have me?"

"Kwan-ah," You exhaled fondly and couldn't help but kiss him softly.

"Yes? Yes, you'll let me?" He asked, hope thick in his voice.

"Unnie will kill us for getting together on her wedding."

"She wo- okay, she would." He sighed heavily and slumped a little, lips turning pouty. "I've wanted to call you my girlfriend for so long and now I'm stopped again just when I thought it was really going to happen. Because my sister wants all the attention."

"Let her have it." You giggled.

His lips pouted further. "I can't call you my girlfriend now because of my sister and can't take you on a date tomorrow because of my mum, what's even the point of confessing?"

"You're so dramatic, Kwan-ah." You teased, tugging on his ear a little and noticed him trying to fight the twitch of his lips giving away his smile. "I have a good reason for confession regardless of the current holdbacks in being together." He tilted his head a little in question. You smirked then kissed him, mouth moving slowly this time, all lingering and none of the sweetness of earlier. Seungkwan couldn't help but groan slightly, soft and barely audible but still present as he tilted further into the kiss to match the intensity as his fingers curled into your hips.

"Think that kinda makes it worse." He murmured a few minutes later, some of your lipstick on his lips and your own a little smeared. He had the sudden urge to lean back in and make it even worse, ruin your makeup and take you apart. But he didn't, he proved to himself that he had self-control and leaned back.

"So no to doing that again?"

"I didn't say that," He rushed making you laugh. He smiled and pecked your lips before moving back. "You should fix your lipstick, baby." Your eyes widened a little at the petname. "Is-is that too much?" He asked, cheeks flushed and not just from the kiss.

"Hell no," You answered immediately then grabbed his face to kiss again. He couldn't help but kiss you back, hands secure on your waist. "Call me all the petnames you want, sweetheart."

It was Seungkwan who surged back in then, pushing you back against the dresser behind you making you gasp into the kiss. For a split second, Seungkwan wondered if putting his tongue in your mouth was too far but then it was already happening and your fingers were curling into his hair to keep him close.

You both knew that you really should not be making out, especially so heavily right then. Seungkwan really did have duties to attend to in order for the wedding to go ahead properly in a little under an hour. But you both got caught up in each other's mouths until Seungkwan's phone started to ring in his back pocket.

"Fuck, fuck, okay," Seungkwan panted out, reluctantly pulling away. Your lipstick was a complete mess now and he knew that you would need to redo your makeup and no doubt his too. He couldn't help but kiss you again as he pulled out his phone to lift. "You're going to drive me insane, you know?" He chuckled, pushing back with his hand pressed against the dresser at your side.

"Likewise," You replied simply, watching him heavily as he answered the call of his oldest sister asking where he was.

"Getting ready." He spoke into the device, eyes roaming over your body openly now that he could. "Mm, noona's going to do my makeup and hair for me then I'll be there." He hummed again in response to whatever Yerin said then hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. "I want to kiss you again but I know they'll come to drag me off if I'm not there soon."

"Mm, better keep our hands and lips to ourselves then." You pushed off of the dresser and walked over to pick up the makeup wipes from the dressing table where everything was still laid out. "Come on," You encouraged, pointing to the stool with one hand, the other already wiping off your badly smeared lipstick. Seungkwan moved his phone into his inner blazer pocket before obediently sitting down and grabbing a wipe himself to remove the mess on him too. As he worked he wondered if maybe he had a kink for smeared lipstick, because he really hadn't wanted either of you to remove it and could easily imagine you in various lipsticks under him, the colour smeared across your face and down your neck. And he was really fucking into it.

You went into professional mode once the products were in your hands and Seungkwan easily followed suit without consciously doing so. You both had a job to do here regardless of your own feelings and you would both feel endlessly guilty if anything went wrong because of you.

After two years of working with Seventeen, you had Seungkwan's makeup done swiftly then fixed his hair into place before sending him off. He leaned over to press one last kiss to your lips, this one soft and short then he rushed off leaving you grinning to yourself as you cleaned up his room.

In the end, the wedding went off without a hitch even if Naeryin had turned into an anxious mess at the last second and had to be talked down by her entire bridal team while you hovered at the side awkwardly with a little bag of emergency makeup supplies in hand in case Naeryin needed a touch up during the afternoon. Which she did need then, and also after the actual marriage ceremony itself when she cried happily at her new husband's sweet vows.

But after that, you were constantly swept away by various family members wanting to know you because it seemed that all of Seungkwan's family liked to gossip. And despite his sister literally getting married, they were all fascinated by the young woman in attendance who their dear Seungkwanie spent most of his time with in Seoul, both in and out of work. Despite that, you did genuinely enjoy yourself and loved meeting his family and old family friends who were in attendance. The stories of little Seungkwan were also a great joy for you, you just wished there had been pictures too.

Still, a little after sunset while the sky was still tinted orange, you needed a break so you escaped the beautiful hall full of people happily talking and dancing to the loud music, and wandered to the beach just a few minutes away; part of the resort so thankfully hidden from the general public. There were a few resort goers dotted along the beach but none of them paid you any attention as you walked along the sand, heels dangling in your left hand and enjoying the calm.

Seungkwan had noticed a lack of you pretty quickly, always swivelling his head around to make sure that his relatives weren't being too much meaning he'd need to intervene, but you had always been smiling and looking genuinely happy that he left you alone mostly. And when he had seen you holding his baby cousin and dancing with her, smiling brightly as the one-year-old giggled away in your arms, Seungkwan knew he definitely could not approach you then because he just knew he'd kiss you and ask you to forget about his sister and be his already regardless of the group you had been standing with. Something about you with kids had always gotten to him and now seeing you with a kid that shared his blood, well he was really understanding that his subconscious had been trying to tell him that you'd be good with your shared kids.

But when he noticed your presence gone entirely, he grew distracted until the bride herself slapped his arm. "I'm talking to you, asshole."

"Mm, yeah, I know, I'm listening." He replied, not even looking at her.

"No, you're not." Naeryin looked around too and understood. "She's probably gone to the bathroom, relax little bro, Y/N is fine."

"She's not good with all this; people and noise." He replied, frowning a little in open concern. "She always has to take breaks."

"Then she's taking a break. If it's normal, why are you so worried?"

"Because I know where she takes her breaks in Seoul, I don't know where she is right now."

"Wow," The low whistle made Seungkwan look at his sister. He only intended a quick glance but the smirk on her face wouldn't let him look away. "You're really whipped for her, huh?"

"Uhm," Seungkwan eloquently replied, cheeks pinkening a little.

"For what it's worth, I'm very positive it's mutual."

"I…I know." He admitted, looking down and fiddling with the rolled cuff of his silky shirt, jacket long ago removed thanks to the heat in the hall.

"You know?" He nodded. "As in you left your girlfriend alone the past hours for our overbearing relatives to grill?!" She reached out and hit him again, harder this time making him yell a little in complaint and step away, rubbing his hand over the impact spot on his upper arm.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"What?" She deadpanned. "You confessed to each other and you're not together? You're dumber than I thought, Seungkwan."

"It's because of you!" He defended poutily. "It happened today and we didn't want to distract from your day by getting together!"

"Are you serious?" He nodded and suddenly was pulled into a hug. "I appreciate it and love you endlessly for thinking of me but you really need to stop putting others first all the time. You've already done so much for me today and for today, Kwanie. You've made me so happy, now go make yourself happy, hm?"

"R-really? I can-I can do that?"

"Yeah, you deserve it. I think you two will be really good together." Naeryin informed as she leaned back and straightened her dress back out from the hug. "Who knows, maybe the next wedding will be you two." She teased.

"Noona," He whined embarassedly. "Don't. She already told me you've all been saying I need to get married and start a family and hinting that she should do it with me."

"Yeah," Naeryin giggled. "Pretty sure mum is already deciding which heirloom to give her first."

"Ugh, stop." He hid in his hands but he was happy, so happy. His mother thinking about heirlooms to pass to you meant she had entirely accepted you as a future member of the family and that really had his chest ballooning with pride and joy.

"Just go find her," Naeryin laughed, pushing her little brother away a little causing him to stumble slightly. "Before my new brother-in-law does. Either way, she'll wind up my sister." She teased. Seungkwan glanced over to the older brother of his new brother-in-law; a genuinely lovely guy with a classically handsome face and tall broad build; he kind of reminded Seungkwan of Mingyu in that way. Seungkwan's face turned down a little with obvious distaste, not at the man but at the thought of him going after you. "Stop glaring like an angry pomeranian and go,"

That time, Seungkwan did go, leaving the hall to step into the much cooler night air. He knew that you loved the beach so he didn't hesitate in heading that way.

It really did not take long for him to spot you crouched down at the water's edge and staring intently at something. Seungkwan approached slowly after removing his shoes and socks, taking his time to admire you in the growing moonlight. "Is it treasure?" He asked softly when he was behind you. You looked over at him and smiled a little before nodding. You then reached into the water to dig around in the wet sand while he just watched. Then you pulled your hand out and sent a finger heart his way with a cheeky grin while he cracked up laughing. You giggled and turned back to look at the little crab which you had been watching scuttle around. "Ah, noona, you're so cute." He cooed when he had calmed and moved to crouch down at your side. "Ah, a crab." He understood upon spotting the little creature.

"It's cute, huh?" You mused and he hummed.

"There's rock pools a little further down," He informed, pointing down the shore a little. You got to your feet quickly, grabbing his hand as you moved to pull him up. He chuckled and obligingly got up so that you could walk along the sand hand in hand. "I just spoke to Naeryin-noona," He informed gently, adjusting his hand in yours so that your fingers could lace together. You squeezed his hand a little and hummed encouragingly. "About us." That made you stop and look at him with raised eyebrows so he too stopped and turned to face you. "She told me to stop putting others first."

"She's got a point, you can be really selfless, Kwan-ah,"

"Mm, I know. I'm trying."

"Good." You smiled gently. "What has that got to do with us though?"

"She told me to be with you now,"

"She did?" He nodded and smiled when yours grew. "Really?"

"Yeah. So, as we have permission, can I call you my girlfriend from now on?"

You rapidly nodded and moved closer. "Yeah, yeah, you can but only if you kiss me right now."

"Deal," He grinned then dropped both his shoes and your hand to take your face into his hands and kiss you. You squealed a little but it turned into a little happy giggle as you kissed him back, your free hand holding onto his waist. "I like you, so much, noona," He informed breathlessly when the passionate kiss ended and he pulled back just enough to look at you with nothing but joy and adoration shining in his eyes. "I want to be with you for a long time. I want to make you happy for a long time."

"I want that too, Kwan-ah," You confirmed. "I want to be by your side for as long as you'll put up with me."

He laughed. "Me put up with you? Baby, you're so ridiculous, you're everything good in the world. It's me who should be saying that, me and my attitude problem. I'll work on it and try to stop side-eyeing everyone all the time."

"No," You pouted a little. "I like the side-eye."

"What?" He muttered bewildered. "You like the side-eye?"

"Yeah, there's something really hot about the way you do it." You admitted, a little embarrassed to admit that but not shying away, especially when his smile slipped into a seductive smirk.

"Yeah? You think I'm hot like that?" He murmured lowly.

"I think you're unfairly attractive all the time, baby, just something about the side-eye makes me want to take you somewhere private and have my way with you." Seungkwan's expression dropped in a split second at the implication of your words. You could see the arousal swirl into his eyes at the very thought. You couldn't help but giggle, which snapped him out of the minor trance.

"You demon," He murmured but you just giggled again and his lips turned back up into a fond smile as he admired the way the starlight reflected in your eyes. At least now, he finally had the confirmation that you truly did look beautiful under the stars.

"Mm, and this is just the start of what it's like to be in a relationship with me. It's too late to back out now though, you're my boyfriend, you're stuck with me for a long time."

"I'm more than okay with that," And well, you know the phrase; truer words had never been spoken.

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this cute lil Seungkwanie story! Don't be shy to let me know what you think <3 Also, I can't be the only one who thinks his side eye is weirdly hot, right? 👀

[cowboycannibalism]

just got out of a late showing of Talk To Me and I have thoughts!

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

so let's dive in while it's still fresh in my mind

Grief is a heavy player in this movie and that's what makes it so good. So much of what happens is because of Mia not being able to let go or face her grief. she's vulnerable to the spirits/demons/souls because she's lonely and sad and she's trying to find anything to make her feel.

The opening scene was absolutely amazing! it sets up how fucking crazy the movie is going to be. It brings us into the world where everything is for views, everyone is entertainment even when they're suffering. It's not the focus of the film but they way social media guides the story is interesting.

to add to the previous point, every time someone does the "game"/seance, the others whip out their phones with lightening speed. They laugh, they point their cameras at the possessed and scream and shout in joy regardless of what the possessed is doing. we see this in Daniel's first go which is a weird sexual possession that leaves him embarrassed and scared, whereas the group is laughing and recording. it's also what brings Mia to the hand in the first place, she keeps seeing the videos posted of people playing the game and having "fun"

I really liked the kangaroo scene because it was so jarring and the foreshadowing was just mwah. wonderful.

I will admit Mia got annoying because you want her to know that she should stop, but she won't. I was literally trying not to yell at the screen lol

on the other hand (ha hand), I get it. She was desperate, grief will do that to you, she just wanted answers and closure. And that can drive you mad.

The gore/violence in the movie was so good for a possession film! The Riley scene was intense and had the small amount of us in the theater squirming and yelling and gasping. And the limbo/purgatory scene although brief was not what I was expecting and it blew me away, it gave cronenbergian/yuzna's Society [1989] vibes.

the cast was very very good! Sophie Wilde played Mia with such an intensity and passion that drew me in even when I didn't care for her character's actions. And the supporting cast stood their own which was awesome because sometimes in horror those other characters can sometimes get pushed aside or fade into the background.

the sound design had me so tense! I swear I thought I was hearing things and not sure if it was me or the movie. We don't talk enough about sound when it comes to horror. It's honestly what really scares me, more than the actual scenes, it's the score that revs up my anxiety and fear.

All in all, the movie was really good! I'm not even a huge fan of possession horror but I was excited to see it and really glad that I did. I know it's been greenlit for a sequel which would be interesting depending on where they take the story but I'm definitely more interested in the prequel that they've already made!! I hope it gets picked up by A24 like the sequel is because I definitely would like to know more about the hand and mythology behind the "game".

Just to add on some more personal thoughts: It's interesting to me how often grief plays a role in horror. From Midsommar to Hereditary to The Babadook to classics like Pet Sematary, the list goes on. We are vulnerable when we're grieving, easier to let bad things in or ignore the people who love us who are trying to help. When I watch horror about grief, it gets to me more often than any others because I've known grief like a childhood friend. It's been with me my entire life. But I've learned to handle it better than I used to, and with movies like this it's a safe place for me to let it consume me, let it be messy and overwhelming like it is for the characters in the movie.

Anyways to wrap this up please go see Talk To Me! If you like possession movies you'll like it, if you like movies with deeper layers you'll like it, it feels like there's a little bit of everything to appeal to most horror fans.

[yelena-bellova]

Let me first say that I hold absolutely zero hate for any community, any minority, any gender. While I know it would be convenient for whoever disagrees with this post if I were a hateful, racist, homophobic asshole, that’s not the case. I also bear no ill will towards Masali Baduza. These are my opinions that no one else has to agree with.

I don’t like the Michaela/Michael change.

1: It’s a direct f-you to the book fans.

I have read only one Bridgerton book and didn’t get into the show till 2022 but I have known for a long time that Francesca and Michael are one of the most popular couples. I’ve known WHWW is tied with AOFAG for the most popular book. I know that Michael Stirling is a sacred name in this fandom. People have been waiting years to laugh at him, to be charmed by him, to swoon over him for years.

And now…he’s never going to exist.

Imagine if a queer character were made heterosexual. The community would be screaming. It’s not the gender politics influencing people’s emotions on the subject, it’s losing a character as they were written. We trust those who adapt literature to stay on the basic path of the story with the usual minor changes. Michaela having the same general vibes as Michael is not the same thing. This creative choice is relegating WHWW essentially to just general inspiration.

2: Jess Brownell comments while discussing the change were bad.

“I know for people who love the book When He Was Wicked that Michael Stirling is one of their favorite characters. I understand that people are going to have feelings about the fact that this character won’t appear exactly as they expected.”

“I would also just say that the book still stands. Michael Stirling still exists in book world.”

So…that’s it? Go read the book? That’s supposed to be enough? I’ll say it again, FANS HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR MICHAEL FOR YEARS. They deserve more than “lol sad for you. Go read the book!” As the show runner for a popular adaption, it’s a poor answer.

Jess also included comments about how she related as a queer woman to Francesca feeling different from her family in WHWW. Ok, great! By all means, write a personal queer storyline for your show. Please do not take a beloved character and erase them because you felt a certain way reading the book.

The fans are the only reason why the show is so popular. While no creative team should let the fans dictate every move they make, it’s very clear they ignored them entirely when it came to the love for Francesca’s story. Going this much against what the fans have 100% reasonably expected is a move that kills successful shows.

3: It’s poor representation.

Genderbending a role is the absolute laziest way to bring representation to a project. Rather than craft a new character, studios take pre-written material and give it to a woman, a POC, someone disabled or someone from the LGBTQ community to appease those asking for representation. In this case, the amount of changes they will have to make for Francesca’s storyline will create more work than it would have taken to just create a new character with their own story. The entire basis of Francesca’s season requires a male lead.

If you want representation, if you want the audience see themselves in the characters, WORK FOR IT. Don’t put forth the least effort possible and upcycle a pre-existing story. As a member of multiple of the aforementioned communities, I don’t want the bare minimum when it comes to feeling represented.

Not to mention that Francesca is one of the strangest choices of characters to make queer. Whether or not they tried, the Bridgerton writers created two brilliant opportunities for LGBTQ representation with Benedict and Eloise. Both have been theorized about (and Benedict was confirmed this season) for years and they could have written both/either a full queer storyline and it would have made total sense. Fans would have loved it! Francesca’s sexuality being changed from the book feels forced.

4: It cancels out the depth of John and Francesca’s relationship.

To spend a whole season building up John and Francesca’s love story only to end it with laying groundwork for another relationship is…so bad.

John spent the season putting in effort to come out of his shell for Francesca. He is the first person outside her family she’s comfortable enough to connect with. They find something in one another that cannot be duplicated. With Francesca utterly flustered by another person after JUST MARRYING John is a disservice to both of them. It takes away so much of the relationship’s meaning if Francesca now has an eye, even fleetingly, on someone else. Not to mention her face after kissing him? That is so far from book Francesca’s devotion and love for her husband. By initiating Francesca’s draw to Michaela, especially through the foreshadowing of Violet’s speech leading up to their meeting, the show has made John a present afterthought.

Let me finish with this…

It is NOT homophobic to dislike the change.

It is NOT racist to dislike the change.

It is NOT misogynistic to dislike the change.

Unless someone is spewing direct and discriminatory hate, they are simply a disappointed fan. 99% of the comments I’ve seen are people saying yes to queer storylines, yes to representation in Bridgerton itself, but begging not to dismantle another storyline to bring those things forth.

[branches-and-thorns]

Listening to EPIC on shuffle liveblog

1:35pm: we’re on Ruthlessness! It’s a vibe I’m enjoying it.

1:38pm: …FULL SPEED AHEAD! Just got asked what I’m laughing at, oh boys you are not getting home. And an alarm just went off and paused the music like that was the source—

1:43pm: MY GOODBYE! Honestly one of my favourite songs. I think I should draw it at some point. I have several OC-related thoughts about it. Turning it up a little bit, completely ignoring the outside world :>

1:46pm: Just a Man! Spotify’s giving me all the songs I associate with OCs and frankly I’m not mad. And god this version sounds so more tragic than the original. Idk if that’s the retrospect or the singing tho. Also I swear I can hear roaring at one point?

1:49pm: STORRRRRRRRRRRRM!

1:52pm: MONSTER MY BELOVED!! So this song has BIG oc associations for me but the much funnier story is that I had my pre-op appointment right after this saga came out and in an attempt to deal with blood drawing I fucking BLARED this song through my headphones and it actually worked and frankly there is no bigger mood rn. Hands down favourite song of the show.

1:55pm: THE UNDERWORLD! THE MUSIC! I AM VIBING SO MUCH RN! Okay now it’s on the mom bit and I’m just glancing my own mum and…emotions. OKAY BACK TO MUSICCCC

2pm: THUNDER BRINGERRRRRRR!!! This will be two minutes of vibing and the rest will be screaming internally NO. OKAY I AM SCREAMING NOW. WHY IS THIS SONG SO EMOTIONAL I CANT. God this ending music makes me wanna cry. These characters are not real why am I like this.

2:05pm: NO LONGER YOU ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. SEE I LOVE THIS SONG BUT LIKE NOT NOW IM STILL DEALING WITH THE PROPHESIED EVENTS PLEASE. OH I CAN ACTUALLY HEAR THE SCYLLA AND SIREN SONG IM SO DONE RN

2:08PM: OH THAT WAS A SQUELCH THIS IS DIFFERENT BEAST OHHHHHHHHHH. Okay I’m having character thoughts putting a pin in that for after the live-blogging.

2:12PM: WELCOME CIRCE ITS THERE ARE OTHER WAYS! God this song is such a vibe. God she’s such a vibe. And look more character associations! Funny story I was listening to this song while drawing a masquerade and the music in the first half really reminds me of a dance. The tapping beat. Idk how to explain it.

2:18PM: DONE FORRRRRRR!!!! I love this one sm I just. CIRCE. THE SINGING. THE MUSIC. EVERYTHING. I AM IN HEAVEN RN

2:20PM: WARRIOR OF THE MIND! This is just Girls time now I love them sm. GOD Athena’s singing in this is AMAZING. And what is that beat it sounds like a heartbeat. Actually it sounds like a heartbeat a lot what’s with that is that just me.

AND IM CUTTING IT THERE SINCE THE WIFI IS NOW BACK ON

THANKS FOR COMING THIS WAS FUN

[pagodazz]

spare patrick/michael andersen headcanons to cure my brainrot mayhaps?

are you a god send????? I have literally been sitting here rocking back and forth waiting for someone to ask for more of these PLEASE IM SOOO HAPPY TO PROVIDE!!!!

Recently I've been thinking a lot about how Michael and Patrick function as a "We", I think it's so interesting because all the other characters we deal with when they have an entity they want them out and are begging to be saved while it's just not like that with them.

they're able to communicate with each other and they're able to understand each other's needs. They're very dependent on each other or atleast Patrick is VERY dependent on Michael, which to be fair he's like a parasite, a chip in Michael's head, right??? Which is what I think separates them from everyone else, Patrick and Michael are not like Evan and HABIT, Evan is HABITs favorite toy, Patrick and Michael are MADE for each other.

Now I've even thought about what this means for dating and stuff HELP. as someone who has a stupid crack ship or Vinnie w these guys (but you can use this for ur own or just ignore this part of you don't see them in relationships), I've tried to find something that makes sense,, and it's pretty much just polyamory but your 2 boyfriends share a body. A two for the price of one type of deal HELP. I don't think Patrick is one to actively seek out romance but if it happens to be something that finds him, I don't think he'd have the strength to really push it away, him and Michael really only knows how to run. I think they'd be a package deal if you love one you have to love both because they're JUST THAT INTERTWINED. I don't see them as being very romantic with each other, but I can see them being so in touch with each others emotions that they can't help but feel the same things.

Michael would probably explain his situation to people and if they're not able to understand him and accept him he can't be with them because what is the POINT. If they don't accept him for all the shit he's got going on, they could never really even love him. And I think he would want Patrick to be loved too, he doesn't want him to be alone even if Patrick is with him, he knows it's just not enough sometimes.

-----------

I think Michael would write stories when he was in the ward, him and Patrick would come up with ideas because the other kids would be too scared to talk to them. Instead of playing with the others Michael would hide off In a corner writing stories or just playing alone when in reality he's actually playing with Patrick. They would come up with endless stories and Michael knew he wouldn't share them with anyone else, except maybe Shaun.

The stories would probably be more true stories, even if Michael didn't know they were, Patrick would. Patrick obviously would wait a long time before ever revealing to Michael that they both truly know more than anyone could ever know. Michaels stories would be dark and violent, they'd be horror filled, he wouldn't be able to write about happy things, because he doesn't have anything happy to write about.

-----------

MICHAEL ANDERSEN IS A STONER, it's easy for him and it feels good, even when he does too much and gets paranoid he's just glad his head isn't screaming at him and all he really has to worry about are the figures he see out of the corner of his eye, which he'd see if he was sober anyways.

I think he is a big fan of stuff from the 80s - early 2000s stuff. I think he'd have the original Xbox and a box tv. IM TALKING OLDD.

I think there's just something about it that's so him,,, AND HE WOULD SO OWN A PLAYSTATION ASWELL. he's such a gamer to me, he wants to make up for all the shit he missed out on.

I think he would really like this one hulk game "hulk ultimate destruction",,, I USED TO BE OBSESSED WITH THAT GAME AS I KID.

I like to think in my own slenderverse world Vinnie (& Shaun would too) would show Michael all these games and get him OBSESSED. he's definitely a my sims guy, NOT REGULAR SIMS,, IM TALKING THESE FUCKERS

I feel like he would absolutely ADORE THIS GAME. am I projecting?? absolutely. But they are SO HIM TO ME.

----------

have some pictures that make me think of Michael and Patrick

[vee-crytraps]

Hiiiii

I hope you're doing good, not good criticism aside.

Now, this chapter 🧑‍🍳💋 as always

There's so much to unpack good god.

The fact that Bruce forced everyone on an outing bc missy I ignore and isolate my daughter and then get mad when she goes looking for a more receptive father figure? It's so dad of him lol. Like, you're the one basically forcing your daughter to go look for love demonstrations that actually make her feel loved and not controlled, attention, understanding and quality time and then have the audacity to be mad, plan a shitty trip and then disappear. Honey, thanks for trying but you gave us absolutely nothing.

Dick mentioning how it was him and Bruce the ones to take Robin away from her says a lot about his character. I swear to god am equal parts attracted to your Richard as much as I am holding a personal Vendetta. Girl, get out of the stage please (and he's reenacting Mia's Goth "Please I'm a star!" Scream while we kick him out).

I don't feel good about being proved right like Barbara, good god, I feel so fucking bad 😭😭😭😭.

Jay bird baby, why are you out here proving me right? I don't wanna be. I need the fanon uwu coquette version of him to heal my heart. When he was I'm going back without any regard for batsis? Girl, I needed to take a deep breath and hold onto my heart pieces. Jay, Jason, my love, no. Immediately no. That was literally your only line.

Damian, and I AM biased, love you. He's so intense lmao, same boy, same. But when Nadia came? I put down my phone and punched a pillow. I could never. I'd probably die hahahahhaah

Can't hate her, she's giving enabling bad influence young aunt and I love it. Dick, you're stepping up to your nickname hun.

Also, the scene by the lake? Sorry, I literally want to slobber him up and hydrate his beautiful caramel skin with my saliva and tears cause he's so hot and then kick him in the balls and assure he doesn't have any offspring that could potentially come out as dumbassy as him. But him getting to know about Damian? Hihihihihihi I was rubbing my hands together.

This is just where my imagination went, batsis with Damian and Jon (sorry, I just love them together, they make a great pair and balance each other out). Dick's face would be so fucking funny.

Also, not him being "you shouldn't continue that". Shut up. The fact that you hurt her doesn't give you the right to assume Damian would. At least not the same way as you. And we all know he has already begun to ruin her opportunities at getting to know decent people (as Nikolai is described as) so don't act like you actually have her best interests in mind. You are so hypocritical Richard Grayson agh.

Also, Jon as always being THE knight in shining armour that he is coming to save the day. Dear heavens, can he be anymore sweethearty? Impeccable job, as always Jonathan Kent, immaculate. Clark, we salute you. Thank you for healing us and giving us a speck of hope in man kind (by this I mean actually men, not humans).

I may be a bit disillusioned with the girls. Come on sugar, please include your little sister innnnnnn. Barbara, stop being my representation in the story, I can't stand it. I just don't want to be right about the boys 😩

But it hurts so good!1!1!1!1!1!!1!1!1!

Anyways, thanks for such an amazing chapter.

Ignore people who don't appreciate it. I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Xoxo - 🫀

Ah, you have no idea how happy it makes me that you slid in here before I shut off my anons!!!

This is totally a shitty dad trip, this is for real a thing my dad used to do when I was a kid lmao. Dick is the mooooost complicated one of them all simply because batsis is like a piece of his childhood. I mean he was in his teens when she was adopted, but she was around long enough to know him from top to bottom. Much like Bruce he's got this caged bird attachment to her haha He does think he's doing good for her by steering her away from Damian and others, but it's the kind of 'I'm sure i'm right' that just so happens to align with the fact that he wants to wait until he's good enough for her. Jon is a very very lovely guy! Clark raised a good boy, but I hope everyone remembers that they're also superheroes! And aliens, who canonically don't experience or understand the entire range of human emotions. The venn diagram is only almost a circle. The truth is, most of these boys have been shot, stabbed, torn apart, mind controlled, broken every bone both indidivually and together, murdered and brought back to life in a goo that makes you crazy, broken then put back together both correctly and incorrectly emotionally and mentally; wooooof they are not okay. But they want to be! For her! They just have to learn a hard lesson first! Bruce has set the example that your civillian life is where you cut corners and make sacrifices- which does not bode well for batsis, who is attracted to people who were raised by him haha. Not to mention, her entire existence is her civillian life. Bad luck fr! Things will get better! Remember this leads into KMM where everything is sexy and happy! Thanks as always for dropping in. As you can guess it was pretty discouraging knowing I put like 90,000 words into creating this universe as a whole and then having someone tear it down with a few hundred. I very much needed this <3333

[galactic-magick]

Only One I Want: He Who Remains/Kang x Reader

Summary: You’ve been living with your husband at the end of time for millennia, but all that might come crashing down as the Lokis seek revenge on the TVA.

Words: 600+

Warnings: Not happy ending :(

Author’s Notes: Kang is the latest character I’m severely not normal about so here I am returning to fanfic writing so I can contribute to the small collection of fics for him. This one is technically a He Who Remains fic and I’m also working on a Kang the Conqueror one as well. Anyways enjoy :)

-

-

-

You knew what was coming.

Everything you’ve built together—well—mostly him, might be gone within minutes.

You always knew it could happen. Someone gets a little too curious about the TVA, finds the man behind it, and without truly considering the consequences will inevitably kill him. It’s the story you hoped you’d never have to see play out.

But today you just might, because two Loki variants are fighting their way in as you speak.

You’re not ready to give it all up. You’ve had a wonderful, peaceful life together at the end of time for eons. You’ve always believed in your husband’s mission, and hoped you could just watch over the Sacred Timeline with him for eternity.

Instead, today might be your goodbye.

“You know, there is a chance they won’t kill me,” he smirks at you in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“You don’t have to keep lying,” you wipe a tear from your cheek, hoping it’s the last one so you can appear confident for your intruders. “They both seem pretty mad, especially the blonde one,”

“I know,” he nods. “But we’ve talked about this, no matter what this isn’t the end-”

He’s cut off by Miss Minutes, coming to tell you the Lokis have entered the Citadel.

He gives you a quick kiss before going down to meet them, and you’re left to wait and see if they’ll at least let him live through the elevator.

To your relief, they do, so your husband introduces you and leads the Lokis over to his desk.

He explains to them everything he’s built, the history of his variants, and why the TVA exists. He gets quite a few sneers and comments from Sylvie, but surprisingly the other Loki seems to be hearing him out.

He offers them the job of ruling the timeline together, and informing them that if they don’t and decide to kill him instead, another multiversal war will break out.

Unfortunately, only one of the Lokis seems to believe him and take this prospect seriously.

Soon enough a fight breaks out between the two of them, with Sylvie repeatedly trying to stab your husband and Loki stopping her. You stand in front of him, gripping his hand behind your back, ignoring his whispers to just let things play out. You’re not letting him go without a battle of your own.

Loki begs her to think things through while she accuses him of just trying to get power, to no avail. She kisses him, eliciting a gasp from you, before she uses your husband’s tempad to throw Loki back to the TVA.

She starts walking towards the both of you slowly, and the tears start falling once again.

“Sylvie please,” you extend an arm out. “Please don’t kill him-”

“I have no quarrel with you,” she glares. “You’re not the one who designed the genocide of the multiverse, just get out of my way,”

You turn back to your husband, screaming, “Why aren’t you fighting for your life?! Don’t you love me and want to stay with me?”

“Darling,” he takes your face in his hands. “I may be gone, but there will be trillions of me across the multiverse who will love you,”

You shake your head, leaning into his touch, “But you’re the only one I want,”

Sylvie shoves you out of the way, before you can even have one last kiss. Within a minute, she stabs him in the heart and your husband is dead.

You watch through blurry vision as the timeline branches out uncontrollably.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” you shout at her, pointing through the window.

“I do,” she smiles. “And it felt good.”

-

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(Thank you for reading! Requests are currently closed, but my askbox is open for suggestions. I just can’t promise or guarantee I’ll write it because I’m very busy with college.)

[orecana]

Their hopeless fate

Na jaemin x male reader x lee jeno

Warning: mentions of torture, slight angst, mentions of bullying (jeno and jaemin), character deaths (not these three), slight horror.

Hello everyone! I'm back with another fic. Once again I hope you guys like this fic as well and thank you to anyone who read and support my stories. Love you all!

this fic contains boy's love and polyamorous relationship (multiple partners relationships) if you are uncomfortable with that, please see yourself out I won't hesitate to block or report you if I see any harmful words directed towards me or my works which I don't appreciate.

They were the most well known in the city.

Being born from the most wealthiest families, jaemin and jeno were what you would call egotistic rich kids. They would mock others that are below them. They would go as far as threatening them if they don't do what they are told to do.

They always wanted to go and face the unknown so they only need to ask their families so that they will allow them to go. Their families did allow them but on one condition that they bring a priest from the temple to help them.

Jeno and jaemin were mad. They didn't need some priest or priestess from the temple to help them. They can handle their own.

But when they got out of their homes equipped with their gears to start their adventures, they were met with a boy similar to their age waiting at the front gate.

Y/n l/n was his name and he was the priest that was supposed to accompany them.

Jeno looked at him and notice his quite normal clothing. His face grimaced. "Was he supposed to travel with a commoner?"

Jaemin on the other hand was fuming on the inside. How dare such a mere apprentice priest accompany them, his parents have lost their minds!

Still nothing could be changed so they let him go with them.

Y/n was shy, that's what they picked up from their 15 minutes walk outside the city gates. He doesn't talk to them until he is spoken to and even then he will only mutter a word or two, which also annoyed jeno because he doesn't like it when people ignore him.

Jaemin was getting impatient. He heard that the forest was surrounded by monsters but then where are they? They've been walking around the forest for the past 30 minutes.

He was about to scream in anger when y/n stops in his tracks.

They're here...

Suddenly wolves and slimes came out of the bushes in front of them and attacked.

Luckily, jeno got in front just in time to shield them from the attacks while jaemin uses his claymore to kill all of the wolves in their way.

Y/n tries to help them by healing their injuries and inflict debuffs on the wolves and slimes such as moving slower or rendering them blind.

Soon enough, they managed to defeat the large amount of monsters in the area. Y/n decided to check both of the older boys just to make sure they don't have any injuries. once he was finished and they have rested well enough, they move forward.

But just as they move through the forest into the mystical woodland, they were stopped by the elves. They told the crew that the area is contaminated by evil at the moment and that traveler should go away and find safety.

Jeno and jaemin however find this to be a way to make their adventure more exciting and decide to help the elves vanquish the evil.

The elves looked skeptical, wondering if these two humans are strong or not until they see Y/n.

While normal life forms can't see it, but other life forms can. Y/n was wearing shorts with knee high socks that holds very powerful daggers. The aura that it carries made the elves know that these humans are trustworthy and decides to let them go forward.

The three humans follow the elves to a clearing which holds the elf leader. He was absolutely pretty as an elf. Jeno and jaemin were practically head over heels over the elf leader and tries to bluntly flirt with him. Huang renjun, which was his name was not amused and demanded that they go deal with the unnatural causes at once.

However because the woodland needed the power of renjun in order to stabilize it, he journeyed with them to the source of contamination. The handsome duo still tried to win the elf's heart, but he just show no interest in them. Y/n had to pull them back to stop them from embarrassing themselves.

They did find it, but in a sad way...

It was in one of the elf folks specifically renjun's sick mother. It was very heartbreaking for renjun to end his own mother's life. Y/n did try his best to cleanse the evil and restore her life back but it was no use.

After the peace have been restored to the mystical woodland, renjun secretly give a blessing to all three of them, to make sure they are safe. He also rejected jeno and jaemin's confession, saying that their fated partner is not him. They all look at y/n who was playing in a flower meadow with the younger elves. Y/n was really gifted with beauty.

They both pouts while walking back to the city, tired of their little adventure. They had fun and Y/n was also a helpful boy despite being so quiet and timid. When they reached the city, everyone had their eyes on them. They sweat at this, had something happened?

Y/n looks back and forth from the people to jeno and jaemin, finding out that they weren't looking at those two. They were looking at him. He looks down as the memories fills him. He broke the oath, that's why they're looking at him like that.

I'm sorry jeno.... Jaemin...

They barely have time to react before Y/n pulls them out of the city as the mobs of people follows them with weapons. Knowing that he no longer have to keep the priest act, he took out his daggers and starts throwing them at the mob, effectively killing them.

Quick! This way!

He pulls them into a hidden cave in the woods before covering their breaths.

Jeno: you better explain to us why we're being hunted down?!

Y/n: I really wanted to tell you guys but I couldn't find myself to.

Jaemin: just tell us what happened you little shit?

Y/n: they wanted to kill you! Are you happy?! They wanted me to subdue you guys and bring you back to the city so that they can execute you guys!

Both men were stunned by the revelations. They didn't knew that the city wanted them dead.

Jeno: wait what about our parents?

Y/n: they're even worse. They wanted to make you scream, torture you and skin you alive before executing you. Said that they hired me to get rid of them because the gods forbid people who have sinned.

Jaemin: they said that they accepted us, does that mean their love... Was fake all along?

Y/n: we can get pay back you know? You only need to hold my hand and let the power consume you..

Jeno and jaemin look at each other, their lives before, the happiness of always being on the top. None of that mattered anymore now that they know, their entire lives were a lie.

They look at each other and nod. They look at y/n who smile was like the radiant sun. They remembered what renjun said and smiled.

They hold y/n hands before jeno kisses y/n. They melted into the kiss as jaemin takes a turn, devouring y/n lip. The power inside them grows as the passionate make out continues causing the area around then to crumble.

Renjun feel the crumble and only smile.

Humans are truly foolish, I just feel sorry for them.

The trio went back into the city, only this time the mobs and people were afraid. The power of darkness inside each of them had granted them tremendous strength, able to destroy the whole city. They looked at the remains of the city before looking at each other. They smile at each other before sharing kisses together and venture forward once more into the unknown.

This story was then made into a legend for every town and city to know.

Any who does bad things or sinful things will be dead the next day. The last thing that the victims saw was the shiny tip of a dagger that quickly slash through their hearts.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (37/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 2666

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Chaos erupts at the coronation and Princess Rhaenys, mounted on her dragon, Meleys, bursts from beneath the floor of the Dragonpit.

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch @crazymusicgirl104

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

Author's Note: I know this one was a little bit short, but I hope y'all enjoyed it still!

And I forgot to mention this on the last chapter, and although I edited it in later, I'll still mention it again: The first Daemon POV is up! It's posted under the title "Silver Dragon Stories." That unfortunately won't be updated as often as this, but I am trying to keep it in chronological order. Please let me know if there are any POVs y'all are really interested in!

The Beast Beneath the Boards

Arianwyn had never seen anyone move so fast as Aemond did to protect her from the eruption of dust and stone that came from within the Dragonpit itself. He pulled her back with the hand he still held, away from the wave of debris as he turned to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head into his chest as he shielded her with his body.

Even still, the dust made its way through, and she began to cough. Just as she had in the tunnel at Driftmark.

The sound sent Aemond into a panic. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. He pulled away and took her face in his hands. “Aria!” he called, brushing her hair from her brow. “Aria, you have to breathe. Please!”

She took a shaky breath, coughing again as she exhaled. His blood boiled with fury, but before he could react, her eyes grew wide, and she pointed over his shoulder. “Aemond, look!”

Then he turned, and he saw.

The floor of the Dragonpit had been broken from below, scattering great hunks of stone into the helpless crowd. Light streamed through the dust that still hung in the air like a storm, casting a gleaming gold around the shape of the great red beast before them.

Meleys.

The dragon roared, the sound drowning out all the screams – from the onlookers in the stands who could do nothing but watch to the poor, helpless souls trapped in the arena with the ‘Red Queen.’

A gasp came from their left, and a hand wrapped around Arianwyn’s arm.

It was Helaena, leaning in to take shelter behind her brother. Her violet eyes were wide but not with terror. No, the familiar fog that Arianwyn was beginning to find even more terrifying than what was before them had once more taken root.

She opened her mouth to speak some frightening new prophecy. Yes, Arianwyn thought, that’s what they were – prophecies. But a new roar filled the Dragonpit, scattering the dust and sending Helaena’s hands flying to cover her ears.

Aemond’s hand shifted around Arianwyn’s waist as he held her in place while he turned to face the beast before them. “Stay back, my love,” he whispered, his voice somehow cutting through the din as he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword.

They both watched in horror as Meleys swept her tail through the crowd, throwing some men dozens of feet through the air while others fell into the dragon dens below. Those that had thus far evaded the dragon ran anywhere they could – to the walls of the arena, the dozens of alcoves surrounding it, or to the only open door on the eastern wall, the same one they had been forced through not long before.

Arianwyn prayed the dust would never settle, so she would not have to see the bodies that now doubtlessly lay strewn across the sand of this place she loved so dearly.

And though it was hopeless, she prayed that the figure atop the dragon was somehow not its sworn rider.

But there she emerged from the settling sand. Princess Rhaenys.

Arianwyn pressed her forehead into Aemond’s back as she squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps when she opened them again, she would wake from this nightmare.

She had seen her cousin only the day before. Though their conversation had not been pleasant, by any definition of the word, she thought they had come to an understanding.

“Daemon could not be King.”

Surely Rhaenys agreed. She knew Daemon had killed Rhea. That he had all but killed Laena by denying her the home she so desperately wanted. That he had conspired with that soldier to kill Laenor and free himself to marry Rhaenyra.

It had been Rhaenys who showed Arianwyn the secret passages of the Red Keep. Who begged her to use them, to run as far as she could from her father. And it was she who had been glad when she disobeyed and married Aemond.

Yet Arianwyn could not deny what was before her eyes.

Otto began bellowing for the gold cloaks to open the bronze doors of the Dragonpit, though whether they could hear him over the screams of the fleeing crowd was doubtful.

Meleys took a lumbering step toward the dais. Rhaenys sat proudly astride her dragon, clad in armor the same blood red as Meleys’ scales. With cold eyes, she surveyed all those atop the dais.

The Septons and Septas cowered, clutching their holy relics.

The Hand stood tall. But, for the first time that Arianwyn had ever seen, he had fear in his eyes.

Ser Criston Cole stared in awe as he was pushed toward Helaena. All his training and discipline disappeared as he stared into the face of an enemy he could not fight.

Alicent, the now Dowager Queen. Who did not cower but ran forward to stand in front of her son, shielding him even when she knew it would do nothing to protect him from dragonfire.

Aegon clung to her as if the thought of dying in his mother’s arms was a comfort, not a tragedy.

The new Queen, Helaena, was not afraid. Instead, she smiled slightly, holding out a hand to calm Meleys as if she were a startled horse who simply needed to hear soothing words, and all would be well.

Rhaenys’ look of detached contemplation only wavered when she turned to Aemond and Arianwyn.

His right hand was on his sword, ready to draw, while his left held her pressed against his back. It was nearly the same stance he had taken only a few days prior, when he held her in his arms in that secluded courtyard after Vaemond Velaryon’s murder.

Just as then, Arianwyn held onto him with all her strength, one hand clutching the side of his waist and the other on his atop the hilt of his blade.

She knew if she removed her hand from his, there would be very little to stop him from attacking. He loved her so much that he would face a dragon armed only with his sword to defend her.

“Aemond…” she whispered, wresting his fingers from his blade and lacing them through her own. He instantly squeezed her hand so hard her breath faltered. She didn’t know what to say. Would these be her last words? The last thing she would ever say, and the last thing he would ever hear?

There was nothing to say. They had already said it all. Their souls were as one, and always would be. As she buried her face in his shoulder with a whimper, she prayed that wherever the gods sent them next, they would be together.

She heard the great intake of breath that always preceded dragonfire and braced herself for what would come next.

Nothing.

No fire. No great jaws closing around them. Not even a roar.

Arianwyn looked back up and locked eyes with her cousin.

Rhaenys did not look like a prisoner or a conqueror. And certainly not like a kinslayer. Rather, she looked sadly upon Arianwyn, then Alicent, the look almost an apology.

Then the Queen Who Never Was turned her dragon away and took flight.

The last thing they saw before the doors slammed shut was Meleys tucking in her wings and emerging into the sunlight.

-

“Aria? Aria, please open your eyes,” Aemond begged.

To his great relief, she did. It took a moment for her to adjust to the low light, and he watched every movement of her pupils as she did. At least there, he found nothing of concern.

But he was not yet satisfied. He ran his hands over her hair, clearing it of as much dust and sand as he could, feeling for injuries along the way. Nothing there either.

Carefully, he pulled aside her cloak, examining the bruises on her neck. Though the sight still sparked a murderous rage within him, he was comforted that there were no new wounds.

Arianwyn finally seemed to realize what he was doing and held his hands to prevent him from continuing his examination. “I’m fine, Aemond.”

“You couldn’t breathe.”

“What are… of course, I could.”

“You were coughing.”

“There was dust, my love,” she almost laughed as she smiled at him, running her thumb across the back of his hand to calm him. “It was only dust.”

He sighed and nodded, pulling her into his chest. Of course, it had only been dust. He was panicking needlessly, his mind again betraying him as it brought him back to his worst memories.

Arianwyn was safe. She was safe. She was safe.

“Aemond?” she asked quietly.

“Yes?”

She hesitated, then asked tremblingly, “Is it very bad?”

He did not have to ask what she meant.

Helaena still stood with her hands covering her ears, while everyone else on the dais gathered together before the altar. The Hand, the members of the Small Council, the Dowager Queen, and even the new King himself all argued with raised voices about what to do next. Only Cole had abandoned the debate to direct the guards within the Dragonpit.

The Dragonkeepers were already running about the arena as if possessed. Acolytes hurried to light the lanterns lining the walls while the Elders hurried to the dragon dens below. The few guards – gold cloaks and Targaryen house guards alike – slowly began making their way through the rubble, their torches illuminating the broken bodies of the dead and wounded.

Far worse than the sight of the devastation were the sounds that echoed through the Dragonpit. Shrieks of terror. Screams of pain. Cries of grief. Desperate shouts for the doors to be reopened. Even the dragons below had started to stir, disturbed by the frantic emotions that roiled from within their home.

Aemond turned back to his wife, kissing her still dusty hair. “I don’t think you want to look.”

She seemed to agree, until there came a sound he could not identify. A wordless, bleating wail. Arianwyn’s head shot up, looking out into the arena for its source. She moved as soon as she seemed to see it, leaving Aemond to chase after her.

Thankfully, her Runestone guards also spotted her movement and raced from where they had scattered within the Dragonpit to come to her side.

Aemond was nearly entranced. She was singularly focused on whatever had made that sound, stepping over the wounded and dead without ever looking down. He knew her heart must ache with the desire to help every person she passed, but whatever this sound was, it was somehow more important than even that.

She finally stopped before the arena wall, in one of the few places the Acolytes had not yet lit the lanterns. But each of her guards carried a torch, their flames revealing the source of the pitiful sound.

It was the sheep. The same one she had pointed out to him before the coronation began.

Its white wool was covered with dust and spattered with blood. The short fur on its face was entirely red, the stain growing deeper and darker as it continued to push into the bleeding side of the man who had been protecting it earlier.

It was trying to wake him. But there was no hope.

Oh gods, the poor man. A piece of the shattered floor had embedded itself in his chest with such force that he was thrown against the wall, cracking his skull. Aemond prayed that whichever blow had killed him had done so quickly.

Arianwyn fell at the shepherd’s feet, lurching forward as she vomited at the gruesome sight. “I’m so sorry,” she cried, over and over and over again as she was wracked with sobs.

Aemond could not tell whether she was speaking to the shepherd or the sheep. He knelt beside her, guiding her back into his arms. “We can’t stay here, Aria. It’s not safe.”

She shook her head, pulling away from him. “They didn’t want to be here,” she choked out through her tears. “They were forced to come. And now they’re dead. Now he’s alone.”

Her hand was extended towards the sheep, who backed away further into the wall, the rejection causing another sob to pulse through her.

One of her guards – one of the new ones that Aemond did not know – also knelt between them and the sheep on the sand. He had a long, gaunt face and deep-set brown eyes. Had he not been wearing the bronze armor of Runestone, Aemond would have been reluctant to trust him.

The guard looked pensively at Arianwyn’s face, then the sheep. “It is not a ‘he,’ Princess,” he said, his voice softer than his appearance would suggest. “She is a ewe, a female.”

He leaned toward the creature, which did not cower at his outstretched hand. On the contrary, it seemed to calm at his touch, allowing him to run his hand over her ears until he found a small iron stud. He examined it carefully before turning back to the small crowd around him. But his focus was entirely on the Princess.

“She is from a wool herd,” he explained. “A small one, I expect. I would know its brand otherwise.”

“How do you know?” Aemond asked, curious even as he was grateful that the guard had helped to calm Arianwyn.

He seemed surprised the Prince would address him. Lowborn, then. But if Ser Gerold had assigned him to Arianwyn, he had to be good.

“My father has one of the largest herds in the Vale,” he said. “That is, among those not owned by a noble house. I grew up with sheep. They are fine creatures. I actually–”

“Where is the rest of her herd?” Arianwyn asked, still holding her hand out to the sheep. “I don’t want it to be alone, Conin.”

The guard – Ser Conin of the Sheep, apparently – smiled sadly as he turned back the ewe. “That, I cannot say, Princess. I can try to find them, but if this is their shepherd…” he looked again to the corpse of the man before them.

Aemond said a prayer for the shepherd’s soul. He did not know his name or anything about him other than that he had valiantly protected his sheep from the surging crown. Still, that was enough to admire him.

He finished his prayer and pulled Arianwyn closer. She did not fight him this time.

“Please find them,” she commanded with a whisper. “Find out who he was and if he has any family. Make sure they are compensated for this loss. Generously.”

“Yes, Princess,” Conin said before standing to speak in hushed tones with another Runestone knight.

Arianwyn stood, with Aemond’s hand to keep her steady, and began walking back to the dais. This time, she saw the devastation before them and leaned heavily into him as they made their way through the bodies. He knew if he pulled his arms from around her, she would be unable to stop herself from trying to help each person she saw.

He never let go of her. Not as he led her up the stairs, nor as he embraced Helaena as they passed her by, nor as they took their place within the debate that was still raging. Even when they returned to their carriage – the Kingsguard had insisted the discussion continue in the safety of the Red Keep’s walls – he held onto her, sitting by her side rather than across from her.

Yesterday, she had stayed with him even as his mind carried him far away. He knew he would never be able to do the same for her – she was stronger than he was, she would never be so broken as him. But whenever she did need him, whether it be to dry her tears or hold her when she cried, he would be there.

Even if it meant fighting a dragon, or kneeling in the sand with her while she cried over a bloody sheep.

Next Chapter

[grandgtaman1a]

Blossoming Love

Pairing: John Marston x Reader

Summary: John gets jealous while Sean is flirting with the reader [Anon Request]

Words:728

Setting: In 1889

AN: Not beta read Please refrain from leaving hate comments. >Screaming in oblivion this is my first fic well it can be taken as a drabble too...I don't know I am confused as hell. >Feel free to reblog and let me know your thoughts >Do Not Repost Note: Abigail and Jack are not characters in this story. Second Note: Ignore the glass in the drink collage may change it later

The campfire crackled softly, casting a warm, flickering glow over the faces of the gang members gathered around it. John Marston couldn't help but notice the playful scene unfolding before him. Sean, always the ladies' man, was in rare form tonight, and his attention was focused squarely on you.

Sean leaned in closer, his voice dripping with charm as he locked eyes with you.”Well now, lass, ye have the most mesmerizin' eyes I've ever seen. Ye must be from heaven, 'cause nothin' on this Earth could compare to 'em."

You chuckled at his smooth talk aware of his reputation for flirt you felt John shifting beside you His jaw clenched, and his gaze became steely as he watched Sean's advances.

John mutters to himself “Damned Irishman, always gotta be the center of attention.” you heard him saying But Sean was relentless in his pursuit. He took your hand gently in his, sending a playful wink your way.

“Ye know, darlin', I reckon we could make quite the pair. What do ye say?"

You found Sean's advances amusing, and you couldn't resist playing along."Well, Sean, you're quite the charmer, I'll give you that."You spoke grinning at him.

John couldn't hide his jealousy any longer frustration showing on his face. “Oh look it’s a regular love unfolding before our eyes is it”

Sean heard and turned his attention to John giving him a roguish grin. “Ah, Johnny boy, jealous are ye? Maybe you should try your luck with our lovely friend here” he teased keeping a hand on your shoulder.

You chuckled at the banter between the two men, the tension palpable in the air. John’s cheek turned red clearing his throat taking a sip of the beer contemplated with Sean’s suggestion.

John muttered under his breath “Maybe I will Sean. Maybe I will.”

As the night at the campfire continued, the playful banter between Sean and you continued, and John's jealousy simmered beneath the surface. It didn't take long for you to notice the tension in the air, and you decided it was time to address it. Sean left the seat his next target being Karen who ignored him at his best.

You turned to John, who was now nursing his drink, his eyes locked on the dancing flames.“John,” Calling him out softly “Is something bothering you?"

John glanced at you, his expression guarded, but the longing in his eyes was hard to miss.” Nah, lass, it's nothin'. Just enjoyin' the fire is all." he spoke hesitantly looking again at the flames.

But you could see through his facade and you weren’t one going to let things go easily. Keeping a gentle but firm hand on his biceps “John, it’s okay if something is bothering you. We’re all family and you can talk to me”

John sighed, his shoulder slumping. Taking a deep breath and finally admitting what had been bothering him taking up the courage he began to speak “It's just... watchin' Sean flirt with you like that, it gets under my skin, y'know? I can't help but feel... jealous.” he peeked at you waiting for your reaction revealing a small part of having a crush on you but then looked down at his drink.

You placed a comforting hand on his arm smiling softly at his admission, and he looked back at you, his eyes searching for understanding "John, I appreciate your honesty. But you have to know that there's nothing between Sean and me. It's all in good fun. Besides, I'm here with you." John's tension began to ease as he listened to your reassuring words.

John starts speaking softly “I know, it's just... sometimes, it's hard not to let those thoughts get to me." nursing the drink in his hands.

You smiled warmly at him, reassuring him further.: "We all have our moments, John. But I chose to be here with you, not because of Sean's flirting, but because I care about you."John's expression softened, and he finally let out a small smile.

"You're right, darlin'. I shouldn't let it bother me so much."

With the tension dissipated and a newfound understanding between you two, the night at the campfire continued, but now there was an undercurrent of romance in the air. The sparks of desire between you and John were undeniable, and as the flames of the campfire flickered, your fingers brushed against his, setting the stage for a deeper connection to blossom between you in the wild, untamed world of the West.