#s.coups x you

[cheolism]

laundry and jiu jitjsu

✧ seungcheol x reader

✧ request from @softnyams, who wanted seungcheol showing his jiu jitsu moves and play fighting. i hope you enjoy this!!! <3

✧ summary: after seungcheol leaves the laundry unfolded on your bed before going to his jiu jitsu lesons, you decide to take action.

✧ wc is aprox 4k

✧ genre: fluff, humor. already together, living together. domestic life. they have a cat.

✧ notes: wrestling, pettiness, name-calling, pinching. reader plays dirty. the cat sits on the counter. mentions of having showered together in the past. he wears a tanktop and his biceps are mentioned. i don't know jiu jitsu. i also don't fold my laundry so ig i'm my character's own worst enemy </3

Living with Seungcheol had its ups and downs. More ups than downs, of course. Way more. But still there were downs, moments that had you rolling your eyes and reminiscing on what it was like to live alone. 

You wouldn’t trade anything for that back, however. No matter how many times you ask Seungcheol to throw his socks into the laundry basket instead of just peeling them off at the front entrance; no matter how many times you ask him to use a bowl when eating cherries instead of just leaning over the kitchen sink, spitting the seeds out into the sink. 

No matter how many times you ask Seungcheol to actually fold the laundry instead of just dumping it on the bed, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

That’s what you were trying to tell yourself. 

Which was reasonable! 

But still, coming home after a day of work to see all your clothes tossed out on your bed after your boyfriend had said he would do the laundry did put a damper in your good mood. 

But still, coming home after a day of work to see all your clothes tossed out on your bed after your boyfriend had said he would do the laundry did put a damper in your good mood. 

You worked your way out of your blazer, pausing before you folded it and put it with the pants. You grabbed the pants and shook them out before throwing them on the top of the pile, your blazer joining. 

There was a little noise of surprise from the pile. Then Darling’s startled head wiggled out from underneath your pants, her bright eyes blinking at you. “Mrp?”

“Sorry, Darling,” you cooed, going to the pile. You scooped your black cat up, having not seen her due to her lying on one of Seungcheol’s black hoodies. She began purring, nustling her face underneath your jaw and pressing her cold nose to your neck. “I can’t believe he didn’t fold the laundry. He said all he had to do today was go to his jiu jitsu lessons. Was it too much for him to fold the dang laundry?”

Darling didn’t respond. The cat, who was of a considerable size due to her enormous amount of fluff, instead began kneading against your collarbone. Sighing, you sunk your hand into her fur and absentmindedly began to pet her. “At least you got something out of it. Probably enjoyed sleeping on top of all that clean laundry, huh, Darling?”

The two of you went around the room, Darling swiveling her head back and forth to watch you as you grabbed joggers and a hoodie. She let out a meow of protest when you set her on the floor, but once you were clothed again you grabbed her. She let out a surprised mrp? when you lifted her back into your hold, but settled in easily. 

With your baby in your arms, you wandered back out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The counter was clean of the dishes that had lined it that morning, pots and pans drying out on the dishrack. The rest of them were resting in the dishwasher, clean and spotless. 

Sighing, you dropped Darling so you could grab a cup. “At least he does dishes, right?”

You went to the fridge, pulling out some fruit punch. When you turned back to the counter, twisting the plastic cap off of the bottle, Darling was sitting there. She looked like a proper little lady, her paws resting at the edge of the counter and head slightly tilted at you. Darling blinked, noticing you looking at her, before erupting in a meow. 

“If Seungcheol saw you sitting on the counter he would flip,” you chastised. You settled in next to her, getting ready to pour the punch. “We’ll just wipe off the counter before we make supper and he won’t know any better, will he?”

Despite having lived with Seungcheol for a little over a year, when you heard the key enter the lock and the little click of the lock releasing, you still froze and turned to watch the door. You waited, holding your breath, as the door quickly opened. 

Never once had a serial murderer or thief used a key to enter your apartment, but you never knew when they would start. 

Then your boyfriend was rounding the door, kicking it shut behind him. His dark hair, still curly from the perm he had gotten weeks ago, poked out from beneath his black beanie. He was wearing his overly large white hoodie, accompanied by his black cargo pants. A typical Choi Seungcheol look. 

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, smiling once he caught sight of you. Then Seungcheol’s eyes drifted, and his smile flipped into a frown and his thick eyebrows furrowed. “Darling. What are you doing on the counter?”

Darling stood up, tail going straight into the air. She meowed excitedly at the sight of Seungcheol, despite the scolding tone he had. She jumped off of the counter only to then jump onto the kitchen table, going to the corner of it and craning out her neck, meowing frantically, tail striking the air in her excitement. 

“Someone wants you to pick her up, Cheolie,” you laughed, returning the punch to the fridge. Seungcheol was holding Darling when you turned back around, your black cat pressing her face against his, tail swishing against his hoodie. “What a big baby.”

Seungcheol hummed, his large hand settling over her head. He ran his hand down the length of her spine, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “She is a baby.”

He crossed the room to you, moving the hand that wasn’t holding Darling to reach out for you. You pressed yourself against him, careful not to squash Darling between the two of you. Your sides pressed together, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and drawing you ever-close. Burrowing your face into his chest, you pressed kisses there. 

“And me?” You asked, peering up at him with a faint grin. 

Seungcheol pulled away, moving to place Darling on a kitchen chair. Then he returned to you, his large hands cupping your face. “You’re my baby,” he said. You fell into him easily, his hands guiding you close, your hands going to grasp at his hoodie. Your eyes slipped shut as his lips pressed against your forehead. Moving your hands, you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to mold your bodies together. You were surrounded by Seungcheol, which was, if you were honest, your favorite place to be. His cologne was thick and expensive, and you could smell your laundry detergent and fabric softener from his hoodie. 

And he was warm. He was so warm, his body heat sinking into your fingers and face, traveling through your body and warming every centimeter of your heart and soul. Seungcheol was likened to a fire more often than not, people quoting his fiery passion and temper for the analogy. But there was also the warmth of his eyes as he watched his friends laugh and make jokes, the warmth of his voice as he murmured I love you; the warmth of his embrace and how safe and loved and wanted they -- he -- made you feel. 

Pulling away from his chest, you rose to the tips of your toes. Knowing, Seungcheol lowered his face and met you halfway, his lips meeting yours. The two of you exchanged a series of quick kisses, a small smile slowly taking over your lips at every satisfying smack of your lips. 

“Stop messing around,” he mumbled. Then his hands moved and tangled into your hair, angling your face to his liking. Seungcheol descended on you, his mouth prying yours open, pressing hot, quick kisses on your lips that stole your breath. 

Satisfied, he pulled away. His smoothed your hair, eyes soft and sweet. “Okay. Now we’re good.”

“Oh?” You laughed, reaching up and grabbing his hands. He squeezed yours, and you pressed a kiss to the backs of his hands. “Sometimes I forget how stingy you are.”

“Not stingy,” Seungcheol protested. “I’m a just man who knows what he wants.” You laughed again, pulling away. Darling had left the two of you for the couch, stretching out on the top and licking at her stomach. “And what is that, Cheolie?”

“A proper fucking kiss when I see my baby after a full day apart.” He reaches out for you once more, hands on your cheeks. Seungcheol kisses your lips once more before trialing to them your chin, cheeks, temple and forehead. 

Finally the two of you separated, you returning to your abandoned cup of fruit punch. Seungcheol peeled his hoodie off of his body and tossed it onto the dining table, leaving him in just his dark tank top. He stretched out his arms, pale, thick muscle bulging and a satisfied sigh escaping his mouth. 

You watched all the while, though the serenity that had settled within you was displaced by the reminder of the pile of clothes on your bed. Taking one last sip of your punch before throwing it in the sink, you slowly began your trek to your boyfriend as he hunched over to peel his socks off. 

“So,” you drew out the word, watching him ball up his socks. “Did you get to your lessons okay?” Seungcheol straightened, transferring his socks to one hand and grabbing his discarded hoodie. “Mm. I had so much restless energy today. It was nice being able to get it all out of me, you know?” “I bet,” you said, trying to appear empathetic. You followed your boyfriend into the hall where he discarded his dirty clothing in the hamper. Next he grabbed his beanie and tugged it off, though he didn’t toss it in the hamper. “Must’ve been nice to take out your energy like that.”

“It is!” He agreed, dark eyes shining. “I was able to perfect a move today. Wanna see?”

You nodded. Seungcheol then fished his phone out of his pants pocket, pressing close against you. He opened up his gallery. “I recorded me doing it to show you,” he explained. 

You fought to hide the little grin that began to appear on your face. Despite Seungcheol being a blackbelt in taekwondo, learning jiu jitsu, having bulging muscles and seeming like the sort of man who didn’t need anyone’s approval, he always sought out some sort of praise from you. 

Once you had been folding paper flowers, a pastime craft you had learned in high school. Seungcheol had wandered into the living room to see you sitting on the floor, surrounded by paper flowers and paper sheets. He had watched you do one and then sat down next to you, snatching a piece of paper to fold alongside you. 

So you had guided him, slowly folding and gluing. Seungcheol had been a dutiful student, and while the end result wasn’t the prettiest flower, he still placed it in the center of his palm and proudly presented it to you, a boyish grin brightening his face. 

Compliments and praises had poured out of you, and you had taken the flower and gone into the office room. Seungcheol had followed, obviously pleased when you set the flower on your bookshelf. 

There were a series of videos on his gallery just from today’s practice. He flicked through them before seemingly finding the one he intended to show. Seungcheol angled his phone towards you. “This is called a butterfly sweep.”

You watched as Seungcheol laid beneath his trainer, the two men grappling with one another for a few moments. And then Seungcheol got his arm next to the other man’s neck, his leg between the other man’s, and then he was flipping the man up and over. The man landed on the other side of Seungcheol, back on the ground, arms splayed out in an attempt to catch himself. 

Despite not really understanding what was going on, you grinning nonetheless. “That’s so cool, Cheolie,” you praised, turning to face him. 

Seungcheol was already facing you, having been watching. He smiled widely at your praise, pleased. 

“It looked really effortless when you did it,” you carried on. “I can’t believe you’ve only been doing jiu jitsu for a month and a half now.”

“What can I say,” Seungcheol began, obviously enjoying every moment of your attention. He flicked through his videos, that overly satisfied, slightly cocky look on his face never leaving. “Your boyfriend is just really good at this sort of thing.”

He then paused, turning to you. “I can show you how I did it, if you want.”

Which had led to the two of you moving the coffee table across the living room, freeing up the wide space. Seungcheol grabbed the pillows and blanket off of the couch, Darling having stopped bathing herself to watch as the two of you prepared. 

“Okay,” he began, sitting on the floor. He was leaning back on his hands, his feet resting flat against the hardwood. “I’ll be the one doing it. Just do what I say, okay, baby? Don’t struggle or anything and just move with me and you won’t get hurt.

“Now. Kneel at my feet.”

You did as he said, squinting in false accusation at him. “If this is just an elaborate set-up --”

Seungcheol laughed, shaking his head. He leaned forward, his right arm coming up underneath your left and looping across your back. “So this is just an underhook.”

“I remember,” you said. Seungcheol had taken to showing off most of his newly acquired knowledge with you, and while you couldn’t remember all of what he said, you did remember some. “Now what, babe?”

“Put your arms out on either side of my torso,” he instructed. “Now,” he carried on, doing as he talked, “I’m going to hold your elbow and squeeze your wrist against my side with my elbow. Normally instead of holding your elbow I would clamp it, squeeze the muscles there and pinch them.”

He shifted, his leg moving from where you had been straddling to cross underneath his other one. “I’m going to start moving you now. Don’t fight it. I’m going to bring my ear down to the floor, and as I move, I’m going to move you with me and kick my foot out to kick your legs and get them in the air. Remember, baby, to move with me.”

And then Seungcheol slowly moved, just as he had said. You moved with him, letting Seungcheol manipulate your body and flowing with his movement. His arm around you tightened as he moved, and even though he was flipping you onto the ground, his slow movements and the arm around you prevented you from slamming against the wooden floors. Instead you were lowered as gently as possible, so you were flat beside him. 

You were still breathless at the end of it. He was leaning over you, your arm looped around his chest and his both holding you down. Seungcheol’s face was close enough to where you could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes that always lingered despite him getting enough rest, the little dark spots on his face. 

“From here I’d do some sort of hold,” he explained, flicking his hair out of his face. 

You nodded. “Hey, Cheol?”

“Yeah, baby?”

His arms repositioned around you. One of his hands went to your head, smoothing back your hair and stroking it fondly. For a moment you let yourself bask in his attention, feeling slightly bad for what you were about to do. But then:

“Why didn’t you fold the damn clothes and put them away before leaving?”

Immediately Seungcheol froze against you. His eyes widened, jaw dropping. Then you were moving. You looped your arm around the arm that was around you, creating space between the two of you; then you used your other arm to meet your first one, hands settled over one another and pushing against Seungcheol while you moved back and away, creating more space and getting out of his hold. 

Still shocked, Seungcheol put up no fight against you. He laid there, half sitting up, watching as you went to your knees. “Baby, what --”

You then launched yourself at him, straddling his waist and pressing his shoulders into the floor. Seungcheol’s hands immediately went to your waist, holding you in place. “Baby --”

“Jerk,” you said, hands slapping against his shoulders. “Put away the fucking laundry if you’re going to do it! If you’re not going to fold the clothes and put them away just don’t do the laundry!” 

His hands tightened around your waist, and then one of his arms was worming up and between the two of you to create space. Immediately you hooked your arm around his, holding it in place. Seungcheol cursed, “You’re lucky I don’t want to hurt you. Otherwise you’d be on the floor.”

“Yeah?” You huffed, squeezing his arm. Your free hand slipped into his armhole, which was overly large due to Seungcheol having cut it so, your fingers lightly pinching at the skin there. Seungcheol let out a shriek -- though he would deny it was a shriek. 

Then you were lifted up and over, just like before. And just like before Seungcheol’s arm was around your back, protecting you from the brunt of the landing. He quickly moved, straddling you like you did him. 

“That fucking hurt,” he struggled, fighting off your hands as they pushed against his chest. “What did I say about pinching?”

One of your hands slipped free of his and slapped against his bicep, your palm stinging from the impact. Seungcheol cursed, his knees tight as they squeezed your hips to keep you at bay. His other hand went to try and wrap around your wrist, and you used his distraction to shove at his shoulder in an attempt to get him off. 

“Stop --” He managed to get both of your wrists in his hold, pressing them against the floor. “There. You absolute ass. What happened to talking things out?”

“Leaving clothes on the bed happened,” you hotly returned. Your heart was pumping, and you could feel yourself begin to sweat. Still, even though he had both your wrists pinned, you had no intention of stopping. You got your feet beneath you, using your toes to try and bridge.

Meaning, in simple terms, you were frantically bucking up against Seungcheol in an effort to get him off. 

Seungcheol, surprised and confused, rose off of your hips. “What are you --”

You used the space he created between the two of you to scrunch up and wiggle, loosening his grip on your wrists. Seungcheol quickly gave up on holding your arms down, moving instead to loop his legs through yours and sit on your thighs, keeping your lower half trapped between him. 

“There,” he sighed, hands on your stomach and keeping you down. His bicep muscles bulged as he exerted strength against your stomach as you struggled, hands slapping against his arms and trying to get ahold of him. “What has gotten into you?”

Then you had the skin of his upper arms between your fingers, tight and ready. “I’ll fucking pinch you if you don’t let me go. Don’t think I won’t.”

“If you pinch me you’ll regret it,” he warned. His eyes were blazing, and his body was heavy on top of yours. For all Seungcheol loved to baby you, he wasn’t going to back down from a stand-off just because you were on the opposing side. Just because he was the one to press band-aids to your scratches and kiss your temples whenever you got migraines didn’t mean he was going to let you win a wrestling match between the two of you. 

“I’ve got you trapped beneath me,” he announced. “And I know your tickle spots.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” he said, “and I can.”

“My armpits are all sweaty,” you provided, wiggling beneath him. “Won’t want to tickle me there.”

“You think I care about armpit sweat?” Seungcheol mocked, grinning down at you. “I’ve showered with you, I’ve cleaned your sweaty body before.”

You bucked up against him once more. Seungcheol squeezed your body between his knees in response. Sighing, you laid your head back against the floor. “Fine. I won’t pinch you.”

“And we’re done wrestling,” he demanded. “Say it.”

Pouting, you relented. Seungcheol released your legs from his hold, but he still sat on your thighs. He settled his weight on you, using one of his hands to run through his hair in a poor attempt to coax it into lying flat. “So what was this about? The laundry on the bed? I was going to fold it after jiu jitsu, baby.”

You continued to frown up at him, wiggling. You moved your hands to press against his thighs, feeling the muscle flex. “Cheol. It’s not about you doing it later. It’s just like. You decided to do laundry and didn’t finish it, meaning that when I came home to relax it was to the sight of another chore I would have to do.”

“But if I hadn’t washed the laundry that still would’ve been a chore for you.”

You sighed, throwing him a look. “Cheol. It’s the thought, you know? You thought about doing laundry, meaning you must’ve had some intent of folding it and putting it away. And then you just didn’t. You didn’t put it away, which meant you were leaving it to do later, but you knew I would be returning home from work before your lessons were done. So you were leaving it for me, Seungcheol. And I don’t mind doing chores. You know that. 

“It’s just after a long day at work, do you really want to come home and see some unfinished chore your boyfriend started?”

Seungcheol closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. Then he moved off of you, settling his body next to yours. Seungcheol leaned over you, the line of his body against you. His hand that wasn’t supporting his body went to your lips, tracing them, before his hand settled against your neck. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, voice deep and thick. His lashes fluttered as he blinked. “I didn’t think about that. Honestly, I didn’t.” “I know, Cheol,” you wiggled your hand from between your bodies, moving it to brush his bangs out of his face. “But you gotta think about stuff like that. It’s not fair to me.”

Seungcheol moved his hand again. He cupped your cheek before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better to think about stuff, okay?” “Okay,” you softly repeated. 

Then something poked at your head. You shifted to see Darling staring down at you, her paw raised in the air from when she had tapped you. Darling did it again, letting out a little meow. 

Seungcheol laughed. He raised off of you, allowing you to sit up. “Here she comes to investigate.”

You gathered Darling into your arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She turned her face away to look at Seungcheol, her paws settling on your arm. She meowed again and Seungcheol relented, bridging the gap to pet her. “Clingy cat.”

“Just like her dad,” you said, grinning at him. 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just as clingy as me.”

“Am not.”

“You are literally the clingiest person I know,” he protested. Then after a moment, he amended his statement. “Well. After Mingyu, of course.”

You laughed, startling Darling. She squirmed in your hold. “I was going to say! Imagine being Mingyu’s boyfriend.”

Seungcheol did an exaggerated shudder. “I’d never get anything done.”

“Not like you get anything done anyways,” you argued back, grinning. You stood, stretching and looking down at him. Then, trying to fight the sly little smile that had taken over, you couldn’t help but add: “Like folding the laundry.”

And then you tackled onto the couch, your boyfriend’s full weight against you as he began tickling your sides. 

[2lut4u]

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL |PT.5

VIVID MEMORIES by @yyawnjun

Work From Home by @sluttywoozi

All Through The Night by @sluttywoozi

Newlyweds by @sluttywoozi

frozen cold proposal by @cheolism

laundry and jiu jitjsu by @cheolism

i want to spend this whole night with you .. by @hanggarae

just wanted to see you. by @seuonji

Silky by @wongyuseokie

CHERRY-FLAVOURED by @nnight-dances

TOUCHIN’ MYSELF THINKING ABOUT YOU. by @frmisnow

fantasize by @wannabelife

[cherriegyuu]

calendar | csc

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader genre: smut word count: 3.1k summary: the red mark on the calendar is one of seungcheol's favorites warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, stimulation, swearing, petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral (f. receiving), breeding kink, cock sleeve (kinda), dirty talking playlist: ➝ here a/n: still a little (a lot) insecure about smut, but wanted to try writing this one. not proof read

please remember that comments and reblogs are extremely important

seungcheol stopped in front of the calendar in the closet, a smile tugging at his lips. the red circle around the date, signaling an important event he always waited a little more anxiously for. 

not that having sex with his wife was something he couldn't do as often as he liked, far from that. if anything both of you were always eager to be with each other, even after so many years together. it had never gotten boring or dull at any moment. both of you always wanted to try new things and keep it interesting, mostly you. for seungcheol being buried deep inside you while you moaned his name was to closest thing he'd ever to heaven, if such a place even existed. 

he gave up on the shirt, knowing fully well what the sight of him in nothing but sweats did to you. pair it with his wet hair and it was enough to drive you crazy. the good thing about being with someone for so long is knowing exactly what ticks the other person off, and what buttons to press. well, it could be both a blessing and a curse. in that moment seungcheol chose to believe that it was solely a blessing. 

a small groan left his lips at the sight of you lying on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, in his shirt and black pair of panties — the one he bought you after there was a small accident with a few pieces of underwear. 

the thing about ticks and buttons is that it works both ways and, obviously, seungcheol wasn't the only one who could play that game. 

he crawled on top of you slowly and pushed your hair to the side so he could kiss the nape of your head. you sighed in contentment when you felt his weight on top of yours. 

"look," you said, raising your phone slightly "hannie sent me pictures of his daughter today"

seungcheol looked at the smiling face of his friend with a little girl in his arms. it had been many years since he had seen jeonghan look quite that happy. of course that suddenly finding out about a child and suddenly needing to be a full-time dad wasn't the easiest thing in the world but he was playing it like a breeze. you swiped your finger and a picture of the little girl in a bright yellow dress greeted him. seungcheol smiled. yeah, she was cute and looked every bit like jeonghan, acted too. a little menace, she was.

"what does he want? if he's sending pictures he wants something" he chuckled knowing his friend well. everything jeonghan did had a purpose.

seungcheol sat back on his heels and slowly started to massage your shoulders over the fabric of the shirt. 

"he asked if we can have gia tomorrow night, he has a work thing to go" you moaned lowly when seungcheol pressed on the not in your shoulder blade, "i said yes"

he laughed again. of course you had been quick to agree, it didn't surprise him. you had always loved kids and were always happily willing to have them for any amount of time needed. after you had gotten married it had gotten a little more frequent since most of your friends had decided to have kids at the same, and since jeonghan found out about his daughter it had gotten weekly. seungcheol never complained, he too loved kids and liked having them around, he especially loved the glint in your eyes whenever you looked at them running around the living room, breaking a thing or two.

"cheol" you said one day at the darkest hour of the night after rolling around in bed for hours, voice barely a whisper as you played with his hair "i... should we start trying?"

it was too late, his mind was barely working, almost drowning in sleep for him to understand what you were saying but in hindsight, he should have seen it coming.

"trying what?" he asked turning around and wrapping you in his arms, his leg nesting between yours.

"for a baby"

that was how the calendar ended up hanging on the closet wall. your ovulation period was marked in a bright red marker. 

"do you think it's really work or, maybe, a date?" you asked.

slowly seungcheol moved his hand lower, to the small of your back, pressing a little more tenderly where he knew you struggled with pain. he moved your, his, shirt up,  adding a little more pressure as your body fully relaxed under him.

"jeonghan wouldn't date now," he said "gia is still getting used to him and us, he wouldn't add someone else to the mix"

you turned around under him, eyes narrowed. when you raised your arm to rest it under your head your shirt lifted a little, exposing the skin right over the elastic of your underwear. it was pretty, yes, with lace details on the sides but that mattered very little. seungcheol was far more interested in what was hidden under it. 

"you're telling me that jeonghan hasn't fucked anyone since we got gia? a whole seven months ago"

seungcheol placed his hands on your waist, your skin warm under his touch. the corner of your lips tugged up at the expression in your husband's eyes. he was struggling to keep focus on the conversation both of you were heaving. jeonghan and gia were the least of his worries. 

"i care very little about who jeonghan fucks" he said, voice hoarse as he leaned forward at the same time he pushed your shirt further up "all i care about is putting a baby in my beautiful wife"

he pressed a kiss to your naked skin. he had imagined it many times, you pregnant with his kid, your belly around. it had been one of the many reasons why he had woken you up in the middle of the night and fucked you dumb. he had never said anything, choosing to let you decide when it was time. when you were ready to have a baby. seungcheol knew that it was going to change things for you a lot more than it would for him, it was also your body. 

if it were up to him, you'd have a least two kids running around the house. 

"you have some work to do then," you said, laughing. 

almost like a reflex, you tangled your fingers in his hair. you sighed as seungcheol started his exploratory kisses. some were light, like the touch of a feather, loving, in a worship manner. others were the exact opposite, harsher as he pulled your skin in between his teeth just for a second, to later soothe the spot with the tip of his tongue. he loved to leave tiny marks in your body, where no one else would be able to see them but him. but you knew they were there, it was a constant reminder of the night before and a reminder of what was still to come.

you spread your legs to better accommodate seungcheol as he pushed your shirt to your neck.  you felt a little electric tension run over your skin when you noticed his eyes on you, taking in your every expression. you smiled when he pressed his thumb over your hard nipple, pinching it.

seungcheol took your boob into his mouth, biting your nipple at the same time he pinched the other one. involuntarily your back arched, your grip on his hair tightening.

he loved the sounds you made, how it usually started so low and small but he always managed to work you up enough to get you begging under him, on top of him. either way, you'd end the night pleading for him, for his cock.

"do you think today is the day?" he asked, trailing his kisses again down your stomach to your panties "do you think i can pump you full enough to get you pregnant?"

you expected seungcheol to tug at the sides of your panties and pull them down but instead, he kissed you over them. he grinned when he saw the small wet spot in your underwear. 

"i barely started and you're already wet, baby?" he teased.

he ran his finger over your cunt still covered by the thin panties. your hips twitched under his touch, needing more than just light touches. but you weren't ready to give in to him yet. he was going to have to work harder if he wanted to hear you begging for more.

"not a word? playing hard to get tonight, i see" he pushed your underwear to the side, lightly blowing your clit. he had to contain the laugh that erupted in his chest "let's see how long it lasts"

you raised your hips as seungcheol used his index fingers to pull your panties down. you laughed when you saw the small piece of cloth being thrown over his shoulder. your laughter died as soon as you felt his warm, wet, tongue on your clit. he sucked the small bundle of never into his mouth at the same time he pushed two fingers into you. he was relentless, his pace devastating, not giving you a second to breathe.

the sounds, of his mouth on you as well as the wetness of your pussy, were obscene but they turned you on even further. you wanted, needed, more.

and the thing is, seungcheol was the giving kind of partner. whatever you wanted was yours, but you had to say it, loud and clear. for him.

"come one baby, just ask" he blew your clit again, this time using the tip of his thumb to lightly brush it "use your pretty little mouth and beg for me"

a curse left your lips when his fingers stopped moving and he pulled away from you. your orgasm that was right there, around the corner, suddenly gone, leaving only your throbbing cunt and ragged breathing as a witness. 

you tried to grab his hand and push his fingers back but the was being a little shit, holding it behind his back.

"fuck, seungcheol," you said, partially annoyed, and desperately turned on "just eat me out, fuck me with your fingers. whatever you do just make me cum"

"your wish, wife, is always my command"

seungcheol wasted no second. his lips were around your clit and a third finger was added into to slit. it only took a few pumps for you to come undone under him. a mess of moans and curses. unsure of when exactly you had let go,  your hand gripped his hair again, forcing his head closer to you, grinding his face against you, desperate for everything he had.

seungcheol used the edge of the mattress to apply some pressure on his throbbing cock. he was so hard it was painful so whatever friction he could get was welcomed. 

every single one of your moans were met a stroke of his tongue and a pump of his fingers. it was torture, the most delicious and vicious kind of torture.

seungcheol only leaned back when he felt the shake in your legs subside, crawling back you. he pressed his thumb in your mouth, smiling when you opened and sucked him in. you were the most beautiful thing in the world, with your cheeks painted in a bright shade of pink, and two tear stains on the sides of your eyes. god, he loved you. 

you could taste your own release in his finger when you circled his finger with your tongue. you grazed his skin with your teeth looking into his eyes. seungcheol hissed, wishing that it was his cock in your mouth.

"i know you would love it if i sucked you," you said "but i really need you to fuck me, right now, please"

you were going to be the death of him.

you pulled your shirt over your head and turned around, sticking your ass up while your chest was pressed against the pillow.

for a second seungcheol felt like a teenager who just found out he was about to fuck the hottest girl he had ever laid eyes on. he was quick to push his sweats off. he hadn't bothered with boxers, knowing exactly where the night would lead the two of you.

"i'm going to fill you up so good baby" he squeezed your ass and second later slapped it "so so deep there's no way you won't get pregnant tonight"

he ran his tip over your pussy a few times, coating himself in you. he knew that he could slide in without doing it but he also liked torturing you. your moans got a little more desperate every time rubbed against your clit.

whenever he took you bare the sensation was entirely new and different. yes, there were a few instances when both of you were in too much of a hurry, or sometimes it just didn't matter enough, to care or remember to take a condom, but ultimately both of you had always been careful. you took your pills, he carried a condom and life moved on. but even after months of no condom, no barrier at all between the two of you, seungcheol still felt his head get a little dizzy. 

your walls adjusted perfectly to him, clinging around him, pulling him, demanding every single inch of him. he slowly pushed in until all he was deep into you, to the hilt.

you moaned against the soft fabric of the sheets, loving the burning sensation of the stretch. you pushed your ass high in the hair, wiggling it from side to side begging him to just move. the stretch of his dick deliciously painful still.

"cheol, move" you begged.

"this what you want?" he asked 

seungcheol pushed your head further into the mattress, his hand on the back of your head, thighing your hair around his fist. finally he started to move, he pulled his cock all the way out and pressed it back in, hitting that one spot that made your head spin and little stars shine behind your closed eyes, over and over again. you squirmed when seungcheol pressed his weight over your body, moaning as he somehow got even deeper.

you moved your hand down your body, slowly circling your with the tip of your nail.

"cheol, fuck" you bit the pillow "faster, please, just fuck me"

he loved the neediness in your voice, how you completely forfeit with your no-begging police. the smell of your sweet vanilla soap disappeared now that your skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat. 

seungcheol didn't change his rhythm, knowing that it was enough to drive you crazy and over the edge.

"are you touching yourself, baby?" he pulled on your hair, giving you a taste of your medicine. his dick throbbed when he saw the smile on your face "fuck"

he reached forward, slapping your hand away from your cunt. you cursed at him but the nasty words were quickly replaced with a moan when he pinched your clit, tugging and pressing, driving you fucking crazy on his dick. even so, his pace was slow.

"cum for me, baby" he whispered. 

"let me ride you" you begged "i want to look at you when you breed me"

your words had always been the ruin of him. he almost came right there. he turned you around and sat on the bed, grinning when you cried when his dick left your pussy.

"i know, baby, but you were the one that wanted to ride me"

a small fuck you left your lips as you crawled on top of him. seungcheol moaned when you gripped him, your hand sliding up and down his length while you grazed his tip with your nail lightly. you aligned him to you and sank down in one swift movement, making both of you moan.

seungcheol was wrong, being balls deep into you wasn't paradise. no. paradise was being balls deep in your cunt while you rode him, tits bouncing in in his face, while you moaned his name again and again like a prayer, taking what you wanted from him. he cupped your breasts in his hands. your hands covered his, forcing your nipples between his fingers and squeezing. 

"fuck. cheol" you said, eyes on his as you circled your hips before thrusting down on him again "i'm gonna cum. i need to"

your walls squeezed around him. seungcheol moaned as he held you by the hips holding you in place, while the pounded into you, finally, finally fucking you as fast and as hard as you wanted. he fucked you roughly, watching as his cock disappeared in your cunt, each thrust deeper than the previous one. seungcheol felt the muscles of his thighs and stomach squeeze at the same time you clenched around him, milking him.

he pressed his thumb to your clit and the scream you let out was enough to drive both of you to the edge. you let your body fall forward, and you bit that spot between his shoulder and neck. seungcheol continued to pound into you, fucking his cum as deep as he could, pushing it further into you making sure not even a drop was wasted. 

it took both of you a couple of minutes to settle down, evening out your breathing, and making sure your legs were no longer shaking.

"seungcheol" you cried, finally looking at his face, kissing him, letting him invade your mouth with his tongue "i'm so full. it's so deep"

he could never, ever, get enough of you.

“don’t move baby, let’s make sure this one sticks”

you kissed the side of his neck, feeling his hot cum inside you while his dick slowly got flaccid. you loved to have him in you, just there, with you, as close as humanly possible, with nothing between the two of you. his personal cock sleeve, he had called you a few times.

“you say it like fucking me is a terrible task someone assigned you”

you felt the vibrations of his laughter before you heard it. you just closed your eyes and pressed your head to his chest, the sound of his heartbeats calming like a lullaby.

“fucking you is the one task i’ll never ask someone else to do in my place”

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[daechwitatamic]

cherrybomb || csc

(banner by @sailorrhansol)

cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

wc: 19.5k

warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut

Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily

This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!

Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol

Teaser:

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “You were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...

The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.

That’s what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.

That’s what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.

You’d marked him as your first choice.

You were both nineteen. You’d grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charron’s Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parents’ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.

You needed Seungcheol.

The jaeger program didn’t turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.

Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.

When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that you’d get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.

Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly we’d work together.

And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.

Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldn’t get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didn’t expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.

It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.

You didn’t talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didn’t see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.

The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didn’t matter.

You’d met your co-pilot. You’d found your partner.

—

He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didn’t get from you.

“I know who you are,” he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. “Your parents piloted Charron’s Revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That better not be why you picked me.”

He gave his head an annoyed little flick. “Of course not. I picked you because you’re fluid - and I’m not.”

Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. “That’s true,” you allowed. “You’re not fluid. But you’re purposeful, and-”

You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.

“Cherry, did you hear?” he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. “The crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.”

“Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, introducing the two young men. “Hannie does more than gossip, I promise. He’s one of the pilots for Devil’s Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.”

“In practice only,” Jeonghan demurred. “For now.”

“Cherry?” Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. “That’s not what I wrote on my paper earlier.”

“Just a nickname,” you explained. When you were very small, you’d struggled with the name of your parents’ jaeger, calling it Cherry’s Revenge instead of Charron’s, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. “Only my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. “I like it.”

You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. “So, what’s your story? You’ve heard of me. I haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. There’s something about being in a room that’s positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. You’re not alone.

“Not much of a story, not like you,” he admitted. “I grew up thinking I’d take over my dad’s business. We lost my dad… then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. But…” He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. “I’m strong. So I came here. I came to fight.”

You sidestepped the bruises he’d bared. “Not like me,” you repeated with a bit of a scoff. “I hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I don’t have one, not yet.”

Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality you’d seen. “So all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome aren’t true?”

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, you’d be able to prove them wrong. “What rumors?”

“You’re spoiled,” Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. “Entitled.”

You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “And bitchy! That’s just what I’ve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Love ya!”

You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.

If only you could.

Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.

“I don’t…” you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. “I don’t think I really deserve all that.”

He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. “What I’d heard,” he said calmly, “is that you’re a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless it’s from your friends, apparently.”

This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to co-pilot with you after all.

“I think it’s up to you which story gets told,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “That’s what I always said. So… let’s get started.”

—

You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.

You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapids’s main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.

Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.

You got to know Seungcheol’s fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.

None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didn’t pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.

You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.

Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.

The fighting was the easy part.

You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldn’t even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.

On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.

Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If you’ve talked about it out here-” he swept an arm across the deck, “-it won’t take hold so strongly in there.” He’d jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.

Seungcheol didn’t look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. “Yes, Sir,” he said steadily.

Your parents weren’t technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charron’s Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadn’t been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.

You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.

“Congratulations,” your father said warmly from across the table. “You worked hard to get here.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. “I hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.”

“What do you think of him?” your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.

“I think he’s a great fighter,” you said. “The rest… I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“Do you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?”

You swallowed. She’s right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughter’s life in her co-pilot’s hands, every time there’s a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.

You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.

“Yes,” you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. “Yes, I trust him.”

“Then we wish you luck,” your father said, and raised his glass. “To Duellona Fury.”

“To Duellona Fury,” you echoed.

On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if she’d done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.

You never asked them if they missed it.

—

You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.

“Have you done this before?” you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.

“Not with someone else,” he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. “Only alone.”

You nodded. You’d grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.

“Normally,” you explained, “you focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So there’s no resistance.”

“Have you done this before?” Seungcheol asked.

You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. “I’ve practiced it - I’ve done the meditation with partners. But I’ve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.”

This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.

You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheol’s inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.

When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -

It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadn’t felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.

You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.

Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheol’s shins, he asked you, “Where do you wish you were right now? If you weren’t here.”

You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. “In a tree.”

A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t making fun of him somehow. “A tree?”

“No, really,” you insisted, still smiling a little. “There’s not a lot of nature here, in case you didn’t notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.

You frowned, reading him exactly. “You think I’m sheltered,” you observed. It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t say no.

He looked at you, then. “You were sheltered,” he said, voice low. “But when I say it, I don’t mean naive. I just think… there’s a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You won’t see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.”

You nod, accepting this. “I won’t see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. There’s a lot of world out there - that we’re trying to keep safe.”

Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, “Have you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?”

“Sort of,” you mumbled.

He’d rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. “Kind of seems like a yes-or-no question.”

Your lips twisted. “Then, no. But I’ve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charron’s Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldn’t see her get sawed in half.”

You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. “I know it’s not the same as looking one in the face myself,” you whispered. “But the fear… shouldn’t that fear count, shouldn’t it feel the same?”

Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.

“When Menaceclaw attacked,” he said, “he missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasn’t even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I don’t think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one… nothing was going to be… the same, or okay. I don’t know.”

“You knew what you lost,” you said quietly. “Part of you did.”

He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. “You never knew anything different. It wasn’t a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.”

You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.

“What?” he asked through the quiet laugh. “Why are you looking at me?”

“What else?” you mused. “What else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?”

He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.

“A lot of my family, probably,” he said. “A lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.”

You laughed without meaning to. “My condolences?”

He grinned at you, pleased. “Eh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.”

You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. “What about you?” he asked off-handedly.

“Mid sex?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “I hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I don’t do anything mid.”

“No,” he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. “I meant - what will we see when it’s your turn?”

“The Dome,” you said, half-joking - but it was true. “Training. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.”

And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you weren’t saying.

“We’ll have our turn,” he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. “We’re gonna be fucking unstoppable. Let’s go again.”

Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.

—

Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.

You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.

“Meet you there?” you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.

You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didn’t know.

Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. “Our table,” he whined.

“There’s Chan and Wylie,” you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.

“You’re bleeding, Cherry,” he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.

You started to scan your arms - you didn’t feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he murmured. “I should’ve pulled that punch.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. “You pull shots in practice, you’ll hesitate in the field.”

“She’s right,” Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. “What you practice will show up in your muscle memory. You’ve got to mean it, every time.”

Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, “Did you guys see the new jaeger?”

“I did,” Seungkwan said eagerly. “Chaser Supernova, or something like that? She’s smaller, but she’s supposed to be fast.”

“Is that her team at our normal table?” you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.

The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwan’s two co-pilots - settle in.

“Talking about Supernova?” he asked, hands busy opening his drink. “They seem okay - they’re a trio, like us.”

“Where is Seokmin?” Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. “I haven’t seen him in like two hours.”

“Talking to Jihoon, I think,” Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. “He lost another co-pilot today.”

“Not again,” you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.

“That was freaky,” Wylie said, just as Chan told you, “You two are acting like us, now.”

“We do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,” Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.

Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.

“We won’t be,” he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.

—

The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.

“I’m never nervous,” he said, suddenly cocky.

If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.

“It’s only practice,” you reminded him. “And it’s only me.”

He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.

“Normally,” your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, “right now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we aren’t dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, we’ll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.

“You’re all good?” Nainsi checks. “Then I’m going back into the tech bay - you’ll hear me through the intercom.”

Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheol’s gaze and couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.

He didn’t return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.

Over the intercom, you said clearly, “Ready and aligned.”

Nainsi answered, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulator’s tech system spoke around you, 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.

The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheol’s childhood home. You didn’t know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.

Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.

You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.

“It’s not real,” you reminded him gently. “It’s just a memory.”

“I know,” he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. “It’s just… good to see them.”

The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.

You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, you’re going to be fine.

And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.

Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.

Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure… recalibrating in 3… 2… 1…

“It’s only a memory,” you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.

Neural handshake disengaged…

“Seungcheol!” you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. “What the hell was that? You pushed me out!”

He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. “Not that,” he said, a little ragged. “I’ll let you in but - not that.”

“You don’t get to choose!” you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, he’d never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. “It’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing!”

He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. “Sorry. I’ll… let’s try again.”

You didn’t answer, fuming silently instead.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” he said. “The stuff with my dad…”

“You can’t cherry-pick what we see and what we don’t,” you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. “Don’t you laugh, Seungcheol, it’s not funny!”

But you were laughing through the scolding.

“Stop,” you whined.

Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. “It’s not about you,” he tried to explain. “I’m not keeping you out. I’m keeping me out.”

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” you told him, shaking your head. “See what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I don’t know… grief - rise up… that’s when we’re going to have trouble.”

“Find the next door,” he repeated, eyes on the floor. “Got it.”

“You can’t push it away,” you reminded him, “but you don’t have to stay in it, either.”

He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.

The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadn’t called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.

The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.

You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you don’t have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, “I’m here.”

The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.

You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his father’s memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.

—

It got easier quickly. Seungcheol’s ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.

The strolls through your mind went easier - you’d had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.

Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. He’d sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charron’s Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parents’ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, “Charron’s Revenge, cleared to return.” The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.

You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.

“Seungcheol!” you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.

“We’re approved to drop!” you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. “We’re on the drop schedule for tomorrow!”

His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.

You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didn’t go off, because you weren’t on duty, weren’t approved to fight.

Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.

“Cat-3 in the west bay,” someone shouted.

“Deploying Devil’s Advocate!”

You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.

“Let us drop,” you said quickly, knowing time was precious. “It’ll be like practice. We can be back-up. We’ll hang back.”

“Absolutely not,” the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. “You’re not approved yet. We don’t need a liability right now.”

“We’re scheduled for tomorrow!” you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get our turn,” Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course he’d come out, of course he found you.

You deflated. “It could have been us. We are hours from approval.”

He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. “We’ll get our turn,” he repeated. “Don’t make trouble.”

You glowered, but you knew he was right. “Fine,” you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.

You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, “Devil’s Advocate, cleared to return.”

Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated.

—

Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.

Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a planner’s touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.

But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before you’re even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.

That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.

Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.

“She looks sick,” he said, the grin taking over his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck shit up,” you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.

“Ready?” the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. “We’ll get you calibrated and dropped, and then you’ll do a lap of the bay. We’re sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.”

The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.

“It’s just safety protocol.” The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. “Have fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.”

You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaeger’s mainframe.

Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdome’s sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.

For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheol’s delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.

“How is it?” Soonyoung’s voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasn’t far behind you.

“Incredible,” Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, “It’s everything.”

It didn’t matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didn’t matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.

—

The west bay became Duellona’s playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.

It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.

“Come in, Duellona Fury,” Nainsi’s voice came through. “We have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -”

Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.

“Are you ready for this?” you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.

“You know I am,” he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.

When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.

It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.

The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellona’s shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.

“Are we breached?” you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.

“Not yet!” he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.

You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. “Cherry, don’t fight me!”

“Move with me!” you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.

Don’t fight me.

You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaiju’s trajectory, just as you’d done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaiju’s middle that sent it stumbling.

“We’ve got him,” you said, feeling a win.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.

Duellona’s arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.

“I don’t think we can hold it,” you managed through grit teeth.

“We’ve got this,” your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.

“Drop the bombs and head for the east side,” you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bay’s churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.

“Ready?” Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. “Are we far enough away?”

“Light him up,” you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.

—

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, later, in the med bay.

“Not that bad,” Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised. “I think I just… practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.” Then, he brightened. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?” you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.

His smile was devilish. “I want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.”

– 

You marked the passing of two years in statistics.

Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.

Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills. 

Seventy-two mainframe repairs.

Twenty-eight achievement awards.

Nine television interviews.

Six upgrades.

One ill-informed “vacation” during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldn’t miss a fight in which you were needed.

Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheol’s mind and heart. But that stat should’ve gone first.

It was a good high. Your team had a good run.

It wasn’t a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.

There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldn’t bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they weren’t.

There was no moment of realization at all.

Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.

If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.

Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead. 

You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.

“Looks like it’s only a Cat-1,” Mission Control told you.

“On it,” you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheol’s as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves. 

You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadn’t. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated. 

He caught your gaze for only a second. “Focus, Cherry,” he cautioned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never,” you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.

For a second, things felt better. 

The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju you’d been sent for. 

You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each other’s. 

This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away. 

It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.

No. 

You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheol’s consciousness out of yours.

Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering. 

“Cherry!” Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellona’s mainframe.

You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted. 

Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.

“Recalibrate faster!” you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them. 

You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.

You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.

“What was that?” Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed you’d caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.

“I don’t know,” you lied, still panicked and desperate. 

“Bullshit,” Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. “I’m fine now,” he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.

You fought the urge to cower, knowing he’d never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.

Then, more calmly this time, he asked, “What happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.”

There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true.  “I got scared.” 

“That can’t happen, and you know it,” he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. “You can’t keep secrets - that’s piloting 101. We’ve got to handle it. You know what’s at stake here.”

You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasn’t just feelings, it wasn’t just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.

Your parents’ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.

“I’m going to my mom and dad’s for a while,” you said quietly. 

He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.

You weren’t sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.

You didn’t go to your parents’, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaeger’s torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol. 

“He’s pissed at me,” you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isn’t Seungcheol with you? 

You weren’t sure she’d understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.

“What’d you do?” Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.

“Almost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,” you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.

Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. “Cherry!” she scolded. 

“There was something I didn’t want him to see.” You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped she’d just know what it was, hoped you wouldn’t have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.

Wylie’s face dropped into irritation. “Cherry,” she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.

You looked up at Duellona Fury again. 

“You can’t do that,” she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. “You know you can’t do that.”

You can’t love him? Or, you can’t keep secrets from him?

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.

You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.

Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.

And right now, you were the problem.

“Hey?” you tried meekly.

He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood. 

He’s pissed at me, you’d told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.

“How was it at your parents’?” he asked, voice low. 

You took one tentative step closer. “I didn’t go,” you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. “I watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.”

He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasn’t laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.

If he was in your mind right now, there’d be no question. He’d know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it. 

His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. “You should’ve had them look at that,” he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away. 

You shook your head. “You needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.” Because of me.

“Only for a minute.”

“A minute too long. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

It hung between you. You don’t know if you’d inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadn’t been just seconds ago.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. “You pushed me out.”

It was an accusation, but it was also a question.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Seungcheol, I was scared.”

Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “Don’t be scared.”

His arms were around you though you didn’t see him move. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that you’d found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones. 

But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.

You don’t know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything you’d wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.

You didn’t mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.

“Cherry,” he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.

Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces. 

His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you. 

His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.

“Yours,” you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.

Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.

You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.

The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldn’t take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.

You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it. 

He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction. 

Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.

The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like he’d just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.

Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that. 

His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.

Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense. 

You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if you’d made some kind of admission. 

Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way he’d watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you needed more or less or him. 

The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his father’s memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.

He felt how you’d always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.

You didn’t speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didn’t say the words that your lips tried to form - it’s so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, don’t stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didn’t need wires.

You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldn’t help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling. 

He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. “Cherry… Cherry…”

You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. “Cheol,” you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didn’t say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing. 

You didn’t know that you’d drifted together for the last time. You didn’t know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.

–

The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When you’d first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt. 

You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.

But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. You’ve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.

Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole. 

Being unable to pilot, unable to fight. 

Being brokenhearted.

Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind. 

You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise you’d swear it was at least a hundred. 

The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When you’d first come, you’d legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that. 

As you cross the courtyard between the trainers’ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you don’t take for granted the fresh air you’re afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You don’t take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.

It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome. 

It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasn’t a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles. 

When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.

“You’re later than normal,” one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.

You shrug lightly, unbothered. “Still have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? I’ve got the little ones first, right?”

The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner. 

You’re mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still haven’t figured out how that happened. 

It would be a lie to say this wasn’t fulfilling, that you didn’t love the girls you cared for, that you weren’t happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.

But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheol’s teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.

The final time you’d tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.

“Don’t do this,” Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.

Don’t do this, he’d said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.

After that failure, you didn’t tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didn’t want to give him the chance to say don’t do this a second time.

You’ve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training room’s side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the center’s Administrator calls your name from the door.

“There’s a call for you on my line. I have them holding.”

A call? 

Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.

You’ve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop. 

You greet the person on the line with your real name. 

“Cherry?”

Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times they’ve said it on your weekly calls home.

“It’s me,” you affirm. “Is everything okay? My parents?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, and you heave a relieved breath. “Everyone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.”

You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he can’t see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, “Me? Why?”

“We’re down a few teams,” the Marshall says. “And -”

“You’ve got more recruits than places to put them,” you counter before he can finish. “Call one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You don’t need me.”

“We do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.”

Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems they’re having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. You’ve seen this before, you all have, and there’s protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck. 

You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows you’re being taken away. 

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “What can I give you? I can’t pilot Duellona.”

Not anymore. 

The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didn’t have a good response. 

“I think you can,” he says finally. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.”

“No,” you say, the first time you’ve voiced it. “You were there. You saw what happened. We can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. You’ve both had a lot of time to…. You’ve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administrator’s pen. 

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that you’ve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time. 

And Seungcheol’s anger? The anger and betrayal he’d leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldn’t speak for him, but if you had to guess, there weren’t enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall hesitates. “Not yet.”

“You might want to do that first,” you point out. “Before flying me back only to have him refuse.” 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

The girls cry when you tell them you’re leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the center’s only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.

It’s standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time you’d lost at the Dome, for the fights you’d sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago. 

You’d been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. You’d been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. You’d been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.

But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh. 

As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the ship’s railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.

You’d been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.

Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didn’t, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together. 

But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then… that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.

Of course, you’d lost it all anyway.

Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?

Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.

You turn away from the ship’s railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. There’s no use looking back like this. You can’t change it. You aren’t even sure you can fix it.

You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but you’re woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.

The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.

The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheol’s hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe he’ll greet you warmly, maybe you’ll pick up right where you left off.

This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation you’d feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someone’s mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.

You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after he’s gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long. 

You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. You’ve craved it ever since.

You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.

You know you can’t have it - any of it. The daydream isn’t real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.

When you arrive at the Shatterdome, it’s your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, you’re happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. They’ve aged in these three years. You’ve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter. 

They walk with you to the Marshall’s office, where you’re meant to report upon arrival. 

You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffle’s strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

“It will be okay,” she whispers. 

Your father catches on. “You’ve faced down worse,” he reasons. 

You disagree. There’s no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them you’ll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshall’s voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside. 

All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. He’s the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.

His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control. 

You don’t know what reaction he’s fighting. You don’t know if he’s feeling happiness or hatred. You don’t know if he’s fighting a smile or a scowl.

You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat. 

He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.

“I trust your travel went well?” the Marshall begins.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.

“Your orders,” he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, “are to reconnect as best you can. You’ll follow your old schedule. You’ll spar, you’ll meditate, and you’ll talk. After some time, we’ll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.”

Seungcheol’s voice startles you when he speaks. “How long do you imagine it will be before we try?” he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it. 

The Marshall’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as if he’d caught it. “That’s entirely up to you two,” he says evenly. “When you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.”

You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch. 

“Your allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,” he says. This is his way of dismissing you.

In the hallway, you pause. “I’m just going to drop my bag in the dorm,” you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol. 

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.

Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. You’re not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night you’d spent together.

Neither thing happens. You aren’t overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what you’ve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.

Your footsteps’ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. It’s pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.

Strangely, it’s stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.

It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesn’t speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.

Well, that and sleeping together, but you don’t see that on your agenda.

You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what he’s feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.

Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheol’s upper body untense, as if he’d been ready to fight and recognized that you weren’t.

“I’m good,” you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like that’s somehow less dishonest. “Let’s go.”

Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, you’d teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.

You and Seungcheol could - literally, you’d tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You don’t know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, it’s too easy.

You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.

Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. You’ll have to touch for the first time, even if it’s forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.

It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.

After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago you’d have used this break to chat, but you don’t know what to say to him. You’re scared that he’ll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly don’t think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.

After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when you’ll spar for real.

You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. You’d long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like it’s your first time again.

Seungcheol attacks as you’d expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging won’t be enough - eventually he’ll cage you in unless you distract him.

You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.

You can’t do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.

You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle you’re balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.

You aren’t hurt. Not this time.

“Get up, Cherry,” he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. “And don’t do that shit again.”

He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you don’t try to strike. You know he knows it; this isn’t how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you can’t make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.

You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.

The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.

“If you’re not going to fight, then leave,” he spits.

“Would if I could,” you retort without thinking. You mean that you don’t want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.

It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.

“I didn’t mean -” you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.

“Don’t waste my fucking time,” he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.

“Don’t curse at me,” you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.

You hate this side of him.

You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.

“Seungcheol,” you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.

“Cheol,” you try again. “Listen to me.”

“Marshall scheduled us time to talk later,” he says flatly. “Right now we’re scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Let’s go.”

The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time it’s over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.

You don’t know what to do to make it all better.

You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours you’re scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.

You’re wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.

You can’t focus at all - can’t shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.

Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You can’t stop watching him, hoping you’ll see him relax, hoping you’ll see the moment that he lets go.

He doesn’t.

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed,” he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.

“I can’t,” you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. It’s not like you could make this worse. “I can’t stop noticing how angry -”

“Then stop pissing me off,” he snaps, eyes opening. “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you cry, and push yourself to stand. You’re not sure why - maybe just to pace. “You never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?”

He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt you’ve seen since you came home.

“Fine,” he finally bites back, and you know it’s as close to sorry as you’ll get. “I’ll reign it in. Sit back down.”

You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.

“Sit down, Cherry,” he repeats, and it’s gentler now. That’s what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.

He’s less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But you’re still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.

The pain feels like a cramp, except it’s behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that you’re out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.

You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.

It won’t do any good, and you know it.

He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and he’d pick you up. You’d taken it for granted, and you’d run away from it. You’d chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.

—

Dinner is just as bad.

You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you haven’t seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.

“I missed you both so much,” you whisper, the only vulnerability anyone’s going to get out of you today.

“Then don’t leave again!” Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.

“I can’t promise,” you admit. Honestly, you’ve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. You’re not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you can’t drift?

You’ve already given up hope that he’ll come around.

Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what you’ve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost don’t notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghan’s other side, but something in you prickles, like you’ve sensed him.

The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When it’s apparent that he’s going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.

“Come on, Seungcheol,” she scolds, and you’re sure no one wonders what she means.

His face goes dark so quickly it’s alarming. “Don’t,” he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.

Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chan’s eyes pingpong between them. He’s probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Cherry, no,” Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?

“It’s fine,” you repeat, standing. “I told my mom and dad I’d come by.”

You slink out before anyone else can argue.

You can’t even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you can’t have him anymore. He isn’t yours, not anymore.

When you return to your dorm, he’s already in bed, the lights out. He’s facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.

You don’t try to talk to him. You just go to bed.

—

You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheol’s ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellona’s mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else you’re able to handle on your own.

“Since you can’t do anything else useful,” he adds, and you avoid Seungcheol’s eyes, ashamed.

Standing under Duellona’s unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like you’re letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.

You work in silence for hours.

Eventually, you crack. You’re not sure if it’s the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.

You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. “What are we doing?” you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.

“Following orders?” he says, stepping around Duellona’s side to look at you. “Fixing up the jaeger?”

“Fixing up the jaeger we don’t get to pilot?” you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.

“Is that what you’re here for?” he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. “To fight? Is that why you came back?”

You reach up to the walkway’s railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it. 

“I’m back because the Marshall gave me an order,” you say slowly. 

“And that’s it?” he demands. 

You stare at him. You feel sure there’s more to the question, more that he’s asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that he’s really asking, you didn’t come back for me?

And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: you’d shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. You’d made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.

Is there more to it, his anger?

Should you call him on it, should you ask?

You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like he’s disgusted with you. “I should have known,” he says coldly. “Princess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.”

This is something you’ve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something he’d pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight. 

“That isn’t fair,” you say, your voice hard. “Is there another reason I should have come back? I’d love to hear it.”

He hears the challenge as it is - you didn’t ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.

He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.

“Exactly,” you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesn’t feel like a win at all. “The bottom line is I’m here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.”

He shakes his head. “You left,” he says finally. “That’s the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didn’t want me in your head, and then you left.”

He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he lets out a derisive little laugh. “We’re both wasting our time here. The drift won’t work. We aren’t going to fix it.”

For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. “You can’t know that,” you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.

“I can,” he retorts. “You know how I know? Because I don’t want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Can’t turn back now.”

He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.

“So that’s it?” you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and you’re starting to get tunnel vision. 

The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.

—

You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.

After, you go to the Marshall’s office, determined. Or maybe resigned.

When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.

“Requesting an audience,” you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.

He glances at his watch. “Five minutes.”

You step inside but leave the door open.

“I’m requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,” you tell him as evenly as you can manage. You’re sure he’s not surprised. “Seungcheol has made it very clear that we won’t be fighting together again. If that’s the case, then I can’t do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.”

You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshall’s face - any hint that he’s considering what you’re saying, or that it’s a lost cause. He gives you nothing.

“Please,” you say. “Those girls need me. If I can’t help here, I can help them.”

The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. “Surely anyone can teach little girls the forms.”

You shake your head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isn’t going to happen… Please, don’t make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.”

The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.

Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. “If,” he says, and your eyes widen with hope, “your co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.”

“No problem,” you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.

When you step out of the Marshall’s office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. That’s always how it was, before.

You look at him disdainfully. “I assume you heard that conversation?”

He nods, once.

“So?” you ask. “Will you tell him you approve, so I can go?”

For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.

“No,” he says easily, like it’s kind of funny.

Fury erupts inside you; you can’t even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. “Why?” you demand. “Because you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?”

He doesn’t respond to this. You know you’re right. You know him. You know his mind.

“I hate to fuck up your narrative,” you spit at him, “but I’ve lost out here just as much as you have. You’re not the only one who lost the ability to fight. You’re not the only one who lost their partner.”

You wish you could tell him the rest - you’re not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and you’d had to harbor your broken heart.

He shakes his head. “Poor baby,” he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.

—

You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parents’, sometimes on Wylie and Chan’s tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.

The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Dome’s recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isn’t quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.

Then, he schedules you to spar.

In your first week, you’d been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. You’d been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then he’d be soft back to you.

Now, you’re fucking furious.

For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. He’s surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and he’s been learning the steps in secret.

The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he can’t get a hit on you either - you’re too quick, spurred on by fury. You’ve been angry in a fight before. But you’ve never been angry at him.

You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.

He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.

“Shit!” you cry, hurrying closer. “I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.”

“‘M fine,” he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.

“You’re gonna have a fat lip,” you tell him regretfully. “But nothing’s bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?”

He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. “Nope.”

You take a step back, cowed. “I’m really sorry.”

He laughs a little, wryly. “I bet you feel better, though.”

You bite back a smile. “Actually…” you say, and he laughs again. You both do.

Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger you’ve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.

He avoids your gaze. “I need some water,” he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.

You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.

“Hey,” he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. “Tell me about Alaska.”

You can’t help but smile.

“It’s so beautiful,” you tell him. “God, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snow…”

He’s watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match that’s mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.

“So you liked it?” he asks. You can hear how hard he’s working to make it sound casual.

“It was so beautiful,” you admit before ducking below a kick. “But it was also… really hard.”

“What was the best part?” he asks.

You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. “Weirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? I’m the one who knew Yejin won’t sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. I’m the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because they’re competitive. I’m the one that knew that Maria and Anjali don’t know their times-tables, that Ximena can’t brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.”

He looks at you for a long time. “Maybe you should go back,” he says finally.

It feels like a trap. 

You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. “If you’ll do this for real,” you say carefully, “then I’d rather be here. If we’re actually trying, then I don’t want to go.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.

“What was the worst part?”

There’s only one answer.

“Missing you,” you say. “Losing you.”

He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.

When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.

–

You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, he’s sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.

You sit next to him and he doesn’t get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.

“I can’t do this if you’re not all in,” he tells you without looking at you. “You walked away from me once. I can’t let you back in my head if there’s any possibility you’ll walk away again. If you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like you’re starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasn’t yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.

Something about his hurt. Something about why.

“I think we should try to drift,” you tell him.

This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I can tell you how much I missed you,” you reason, “and tell you about how I spent every minute just… steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.”

You know what you’re risking. If he gets into your head now, he’ll see it all - he’ll know everything, he’ll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love. 

But what’s the harm, now? You can’t lose him twice. Maybe it’ll be enough for him to realize you hadn’t left him because you didn’t care about him. Maybe it’ll be enough for his forgiveness. 

Maybe then, he’ll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk. 

It’s Seungkwan you bother, since he’d been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.

You buzz with nerves. The last time you’d tried this, the neural handshake hadn’t even connected. There had just been nothing.

The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You can’t even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheol’s memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.

His first memories are a breeze - the ones you’ve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his father’s hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.

You’re facing the landing dock on the Shatterdome’s roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.

You watch yourself walk towards the chopper’s open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.

You hadn’t known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.

The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like you’re drowning, like it’s too deep and you can’t feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “I’m with you.”

He nods, still doesn’t look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding. 

There’s knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheol’s thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.

You can’t stay here, can’t let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - that’s how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s following. 

He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.

When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. You’re watching yourselves in Seungcheol’s bed. Thankfully, you’re sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.

The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake. 

He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.

“We can talk about it after,” he says, voice hard. “Don’t stay in it. Find the next door.”

Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking he’d pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.

“Cherry,” he warns. “The drift can’t -”

You know. 

And you owe him your side of the story.

You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You don’t take his hand. You don’t know if you deserve to, if he’d want you to.

When you step through the doors, you’re confused - you’re still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.

Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. 

You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.

Fear. It’s still fear - fear that he’ll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide. 

Beside you, Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. 

“We have to move on,” you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory. 

“You -?” he starts to ask.

“After,” you tell him firmly. “We’ll talk after.”

You open the door, and you’re suddenly outside, surrounded by white.

Alaska.

The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know you’re not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.

And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.

If he didn’t know before, he has to know now. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.

“We should go back and talk about this,” he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.

“Okay. It’s this way,” you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you can’t see anything but grey, can’t see anything but Seungcheol’s hand in yours.

You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Fury’s conn-pod.

As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, “Kwan? We… need some privacy. We’ve got to talk - alone.”

His voice crackles back at you. “Yes, I’m leaving, I’m already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you don’t.”

Seungcheol gives you a flat look. “Let’s go home and talk,” he suggests.

Home.

You are so afraid and so hopeful. You don’t know how to juggle both.

Back in your small living space, you sit like you’re meditating.

“Let’s figure this out,” he says. “No lies.”

“No lies,” you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“You knew,” you say first, bordering on accusation. “I was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you… but you knew.”

He nods, his eyes on you. “And you,” he says slowly, “didn’t… know? That I knew?”

You shake your head, confirming. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid it.”

He smiles at you, a little placating. “Not as well as you would have liked.”

“And you…” You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. “You… loved me, too?”

He nods. “I did.” 

The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.

“We felt the same,” you echo into your shins. “You loved me.”

“Cherry,” he says above you, his voice like a plea. “I don’t understand why - when we… when I… I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.”

You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign. 

“You thought… wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?”

He nods. “I thought you knew,” he says, confusion still present in his tone. “I thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.”

You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. “And instead,” you realize, “we couldn’t even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.”

He looks at you in wonder. “That’s why you left,” he breathes, and you know he’s understanding this for the first time. “You thought we made the problem worse.”

It’s your turn to nod. “After we…I mean, I knew if I couldn’t hide it from you before that night, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I… was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed… hopeless to keep trying.”

The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.

You push on, adding, “I was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.”

Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.

He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. “We’re so fucking stupid,” he says, and you splutter out a laugh.

“We really are.”

“I can’t believe we lost three years over that,” he says.

“I can’t believe you thought it was your fault that I left.”

“I can’t believe you left in the first place.”

This makes you smile, guilty. “That’s fair.”

You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if you’re already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem. 

“Cherry,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “It could never be too much. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’m only me when I’m with you.”

You remember him, the night you’d slept together, telling you, don’t be afraid. He’d told you, after all, and you’d missed it entirely.

You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands don’t wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he won’t let you move an inch, won’t let you out of his grasp ever again.

You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. “Cheol,” you whisper, then kiss him again. “You’re everything.” It’s what you should have said aloud the night you’d slept with him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just say it.”

“Me too,” you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. “I should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.”

He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time you’d wasted apart. 

You’re interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. You’re even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“I’ve heard your drift is working again,” the Marshall says dryly. 

You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“There’s a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savage’s team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?”

Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. “Well?” he asks you. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“I’m in,” you tell him seriously. “I’m with you.”

You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you can’t help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded. 

You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - “Ready and aligned.”

Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

The artificial voice bounces around you - 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibrating…

You’re crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadn’t seen in years. You resist the urge.

“Ready to drop?”  He looks sideways at you, sly. 

You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like you’re twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. “Been ready. Let’s light ‘em up.”

– end

thank you so much for reading!!!!

stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!

[scoupsakakitty]

The Edge of Us | idol!S.coups x reader | angst, fluff

It was nearing 1 a.m., and the apartment was shrouded in a tense, almost oppressive silence. Choi Seungcheol sat on the couch, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He stared at the app on his screen, the small dot marking y/n’s location at an unfamiliar address in the city.

For weeks, his life had revolved around the comeback—early mornings, late nights, endless rehearsals. He barely came home except to sleep, and even then, their moments together were fleeting. He hated it, but he’d told himself she understood. She always had.

Now, though, as he sat in the dark apartment, his chest tightened with unease. She hadn’t mentioned going out tonight. She hadn’t answered any of his calls.

His thumb hovered over her number again before he let out a frustrated sigh, grabbed his jacket, and left the apartment.

————————————————————————————

The drive was short but tense, his mind running wild with thoughts. He wasn’t proud of tracking her location, but the nagging fear in his gut outweighed any guilt. She hadn’t told him where she was going. Why? Was she angry? Trying to avoid him?

When he arrived, he parked a few houses down and stared at the modest, warmly lit home. His jaw clenched as scenarios filled his head. Was she with someone else? Was this the beginning of the end he’d been too afraid to face?

He dialed her number again, his heart pounding when she finally picked up.

“Seungcheol?” she answered, her voice laced with confusion.

“I’m outside,” he said curtly. “Come out.”

There was a pause. “What do you mean, you’re outside?”

“I mean, I’m outside. At this random house you’re at,” he said, his frustration bleeding through his words. “Come out. Now.”

Another pause, this one longer. Then a heavy sigh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.”

The line went dead, and a minute later, the front door opened. Y/n stepped out, visibly annoyed, her arms crossed as she walked toward his car. She climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door harder than necessary.

“Explain,” she demanded, glaring at him.

“Where were you?” he shot back, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“At my friend’s house,” she said, her tone defensive. “Why are you even here, Seungcheol? Why couldn’t you just trust me?”

“You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You didn’t answer my calls. What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think that maybe I needed a break,” she snapped. “Or maybe you’d realize that I’ve been sitting at home alone for weeks while you’re too busy to even notice me!”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t let it show. “You could have still told me,” he said, his voice rising. “Instead, you sneak off and leave me to figure out where you are through your location? Do you even understand how worried I was?”

“Worried?” she repeated, laughing bitterly. “No, Seungcheol. You weren’t worried. You were paranoid. There’s a difference.”

The car fell into heavy silence as her words lingered between them.

————————————————————————————

When they got back to the apartment, the argument picked up right where it left off.

“You think I haven’t noticed how distant you’ve been?” she said, pacing the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “For weeks, it’s been nothing but your comeback. You leave before I’m awake, you come home after I’m asleep, and when you’re here, it’s like I don’t even exist!”

“I’ve been working, Y/n,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m doing this for us. For our future.”

“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “You’re doing this for you. Don’t pretend this is about me when I haven’t even been part of your life lately.”

“That’s not fair,” he argued, his frustration mounting. “You knew what you were signing up for when we got together. You knew how demanding my job is.”

“And I’ve been nothing but supportive!” she shot back, her voice cracking. “But I’m human, Seungcheol. I have limits. I can only take so much before I start feeling like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

His chest tightened at her words, and for a moment, his mask of frustration cracked. “You do matter,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “You matter more than anything.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why is it that the only time you care is when you think I’m slipping away?”

Her words cut deeper than she knew, slicing through the fear and guilt he’d been carrying for weeks.

“I’m scared, okay?” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’m scared that one day you’ll realize I’m not enough for you. That you’ll leave because I’m too busy or too selfish or too—” He stopped himself, his throat tight with emotion.

Y/n’s anger softened slightly, but the hurt in her eyes didn’t fade. “Seungcheol, you’re not losing me because of your job. You’re losing me because you don’t let me in anymore. I can handle the late nights and the busy schedules, but I can’t handle feeling like I’m not a part of your life.”

He stared at her, his heart aching with regret, but he didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t do this right now,” she said finally, her voice small and tired. “I need space. Sleep on the couch tonight.”

She turned and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

————————————————————————————

The couch felt like punishment, but Seungcheol knew he deserved it. Sleep was impossible as he replayed their argument in his head, her words haunting him.

When the clock struck 3 a.m., he couldn’t take it anymore. Quietly, he got up and slipped into the bedroom.

Y/n was asleep, curled up on her side. The soft rise and fall of her breathing was the only sound in the room. He crawled into bed carefully, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry for shutting you out. For making you feel like you’re not enough. You’re everything to me, Y/n. Please don’t leave me. I’ll do better. I’ll make this right.”

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, leaning instinctively into his touch. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, his heart aching with guilt and love.

————————————————————————————

The next morning, Y/n woke to the smell of coffee. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, surprised to find the bed empty.

When she walked into the kitchen, she saw Seungcheol standing at the counter, a plate of eggs and toast waiting for her. He looked up when he heard her, his expression filled with nervous hope.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Morning,” she replied cautiously.

“I took the day off,” he said, fidgeting slightly. “I thought we could spend it together. If you want to.”

She crossed her arms, studying him. “Why now?”

“Because you’re right,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t been there for you. And I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t a priority. You are, Y/n. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

Her eyes softened, and after a moment, she let out a small sigh. “I missed you, Seungcheol. I just need you to let me in.”

“I will,” he promised, stepping closer. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She hesitated, then reached out to take his hand. “Okay.”

Relief washed over his face, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. For the first time in weeks, the distance between them felt like it was finally starting to close.

————————————————————————————

[headlinerkwan]

for us - c.sc

pairing - bestfriend!seungcheol x gn!reader

genre - nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, knightinshiningarmour!seungcheol, reader and seungcheol are whipped for each other but too dumb to realise.

summary - waking up the next morning in your childhood home, unanswered questions and glances that last a little too long leave you questioning your feelings for your best friend.

warnings - profanity, discussions of mental health

wc: 2.2k

a/n - this is part two of my fic 'for now'. i recommend reading part one first!! lmk what you think about part 2 (ᵔ.ᵔ)

requests: open <33

taglist - open!! comment or send an ask to be added ✩

You wake up the next morning to the golden sunlight streaming through your window, kissing your skin warmly. Your childhood bedroom smells like a bittersweet blend of home and naive dreams, it is a place that you’ve both longed for and loathed since you became an adult- wait. Your childhood bedroom…the events of last night come flooding back to you… shit. 

Sitting up quickly you look around your empty room. 

Where the fuck is Seungcheol? 

Feeling disorientated at best, you decide that following the soft music playing in the kitchen would probably give you the best chance of finding him or, at least, gaining some sort of clarity. Your foggy morning brain leads you into your parents lounge, the soft glow of a lamp inviting you into the room.

That's where you find him, sitting comfortably on the couch, reading one of your father’s books like this is his home, like this is the most natural thing he’s ever done. His hair is a perfect mess, red undertones from past dye jobs revealing itself under the light, flowing perfectly as he runs his hand through his hair and his bare face glows under the morning sun. You think you could watch him all day if he’d let you. 

“Y/Nnie” he calls, leaping to his feet with the sweetest smile adorning his face. God, how can someone be so- 

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, you don’t even get the chance to answer him before his arms are wrapping around you, bringing you against his chest as his face finds solace in the crook of your neck. Whilst his sudden embrace takes you by surprise at first, your heart jumping, you can't help but melt into him, his warmth enveloping you and his cologne calming your nerves immediately. The way your bodies are intertwined it's difficult not to think that maybe…just maybe, you and Seungcheol are made for eachother - two halves making a whole. 

After a beat of comfortable silence, you gently lift your head away from him. “Cheol..” you whisper, he responds with a mumbled confirmation that he’s listening, “...I’m sorry”. 

He lifts his head rapidly then, concern painted across his face as his eyes meet yours. “Why? What do you have to be sorry about sweet?”. His arms are still wrapped around you, his thumb gently caressing your forearm as you stare up at him, tears welling quietly in your eyes. 

“That you’re here. That you drove here, through the night, just because I was-”

He cuts you off. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I promise. This is nothing, I’ll do this a thousand times, I’ll do anything for you. You know that right?” 

Despite your guilt, you can’t help but smile at him, his words so sincere, his eyes so full of love. You nod slowly, of course you know - you’d do the same for him, and he pulls you back into an embrace, holding you against his chest as he kisses your head softly before resting his head on top of yours. 

“Why?” you question after a while, your words muffled slightly against the fabric of his t-shirt. You feel him take a deep breath, preparing his response.

“Because…”

“Because what?” 

“I’ll tell you later sweet, can we just… stay like this for a while” he says quietly, holding you tighter in his warm embrace.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Seungcheol's POV

He could stay like this forever. You in his arms, sweet and delicate, he can’t shake the feeling that this is where he’s meant to be - by your side. Of course he would drive through the night for you, he thinks, of course he would carry you to your bed, of course he would sleep on your bedroom floor in case you needed him because well… he loved you. 

He’d loved you for three years, he’d shown you in every way he could think of, except through words. He could never quite bring himself to tell you. He had tried, God had he tried, but the words were always caught in his throat, the fear of the unknown silencing him from telling you the truth. Everything in him wanted to tell you, wanted to shout from the rooftops that he loves you, that you’re beautiful.

That you’re everything to him.

To him, you are the sun, the rain, the clouds. To him, you are a gentle spring breeze, a late summer sunset, you are fresh coffee in the morning and a warm meal at dinner. To him, you are everything good in the world, big and small. You are his favourite song, his favourite place, his best memory, his future. 

But how could he tell you? How can he put into words everything that you are? And if he does? If he does and it ruins your friendship? If he does and he loses you? If he does and you love him too? What then? 

He takes a deep breath and decides to try and forget about it for now. His problems are not important right now - you are.

“So sweet, are you gonna give me the exclusive Y/N tour of your hometown or are you gonna leave me looking for breakfast like a lost puppy?”

His heart is happy as you chuckle lightly against his chest, looking at him with your doe eyes before grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The day you spend together walking around your hometown can be described as nothing less than happy. You had mentioned before leaving about the small size of your sleepy town, that there wasn’t really much to do but it’s clear that doesn’t matter as you and Seungcheol fill the hours with conversation, laughs and smiles. It’s easy with him, comfortable, smooth, but still exciting. Maybe it’s too easy because, before you realise it, the sun is setting over the town square.

“Should we head back soon?” Seungcheol asks, his brown eyes are golden caramel in the sunlight, the breeze flowing gently through his hair. You reach up cautiously to move some of the hair out of his eyes, unsure of how he will react but, his eyes flutter shut as he smiles gently, an expression of gratitude. “Can we stay for a bit? Just until the sun goes down, it’s beautiful I promise” you plead. “Well if you say it’s beautiful then I guess I’ll have to check it out for myself” he replies cheekily, his mouth curling slightly.

Turning away from him to watch the sun, you freeze as he stands behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, and wrapping his arms around you. A million thoughts are running through your head, all of them about him, and your heart beats faster as he leans against you. But then, he takes your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb and suddenly everything is quiet, peaceful. It’s just you and Seungcheol and everything is okay. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The sun has almost disappeared behind the horizon by the time you find the courage to ask him if he’ll answer your question from this morning.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” you reassure him, “It’s just that, I don’t know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder what goes on in your mind. I can see it in your face that look you get when you’re stressed or thinking too hard and… I just want to be there and help you with it but if I don’t know then I-”

“I love you” He replies nonchalantly. It takes you off guard but it’s nothing new, friends tell each other that they love each other everyday. 

You chuckle as you reply, still watching the sunset “I love you too but-”

“No Y/N, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He states, taking a deep breath.

You feel your stomach flip at your best friend’s words. What the fuck? Surely you didn’t hear that right. There’s no way Seungcheol loves you. Not in that way. Not in the way that you love him. Right?

You turn around to face him, his hands still sitting carefully on your waist. “Sorry, what?” you question, a nervous shake in your voice whilst you search his eyes for answers.

“I’m in love with you.” He says with soft eyes, biting his cherry lips as he attempts to read your body language, “I think I’ve loved you since that first week, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, I didn’t know then, I just knew I had to know you, I needed you in my life.” 

You can hardly believe the words leaving his mouth, you can hardly believe it’s him stood before you, you can hardly believe he loves you. 

“Seungcheol.” you mutter gently as he nervously rambles. He pauses, eyes scanning your face for anything that will tell him what you’re thinking, nothing. 

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.” 

You move closer to him, closing the gap between you, your faces millimetres apart. His features are illuminated by the glow of twilight as you meet his eyes. You inhale sharply as he hesitantly lifts his hand to gently caress your face. “Okay” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips gently. 

Your eyes flick between his gentle eyes and full lips one last time before your mouths crash into each other. It’s cautious at first, nervous, but you gradually find a gentle rhythm. His free hand finds your lower back, bringing you as close as possible to him as your arms rest on his shoulders. His soft lips kiss you back like you are the most delicate thing in the universe, he tastes sweet and warm. This is something you didn’t know you needed but now that you have it, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to live without it, without him. 

Soon gentle kisses become driven by passion, you are both hungry as you chase the other for more, for closeness, for love. As your fingers tangle slightly in his hair, he nips your bottom lip gently before kissing away the delicious pain and falling back into your new rhythm with roaming hands and heavy breath. 

It is only when a car alarm blares nearby that the two of you are thrown back into reality. Seungcheol leans his forehead against yours as you giggle. He takes your hands, not daring to take his eyes off of you and places a gentle peck on your cheek. So many emotions are exchanged in every movement made; relief, happiness, nerves, excitement, love.

“The sun’s gone” you point out after a moment. Seungcheol nods, he knows it’s time for both of you to go back to the city but he sure as hell is not going to be the one to take either of you out of this moment. 

A comfortable silence falls over you whilst you watch people mill around your town’s square, some you recognise as old acquaintances, teachers, coworkers. You think about potential inside jokes you may have had with them or any fun facts about them but to no avail, the people of your hometown have become ghosts, lost to the past. So you stand with Seungcheol and just watch, his hand finds yours and you lean your head against his shoulder. 

You stand watching your past, hand-in-hand with your future.  

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

You are stood next to Seungcheol’s car waiting for him to unlock it so you can load in a bag of food your mother had given to you. He appears from around the corner, car keys in hand, running towards you just like he had on the night of the carnival, with bright eyes and a wide grin. Except this time it was different. This time you knew what that look meant, he wasn’t just happy to see his friend, he was happy to see you - the person he loved. 

Placing the bags into the back of his car, you make an exaggerated show of strength, huffing and heaving as you lift the light bags onto the back seat before walking towards the passenger seat, flexing your biceps as you feign exhaustion. 

Opening the door for you, Seungcheol laughs at your dramatics, “You’re so weird”. 

As he climbs into the driver’s seat and closes the door, you pout at him, pretending to be upset at his comment. “Wowww, that’s so mean! Damn, and I thought you loved me.” you remark as you jokingly shake your head.

He giggles and takes your hand, turning to look at you. “Sooo dramatic! You’re the good kind of weird, don’t worry sweet." You chuckle quietly and squeeze his hand in response. 

After a beat, you speak up again.

“I might be the bad kind of weird too. Is that okay?”

There is a heaviness in your voice that makes him frown slightly and, when your eyes avoid his, he places his hand on your jaw, soft eyes finding yours.

“I love all your weird” He says gently “I’ll take as much of you as I can get, the good and the bad.” Scanning your face he adds “For you, anything, always.”

He places chaste kisses all over your face until you’re smiling again, pulling him to meet your lips this time, he smiles into you and, with his sweet lips against yours, you are at peace. 

For us, anything, always.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

taglist:@caaaptaaainamericaaa @gyuguys

[imloyaltoscoups]

3 in 1 | 95 liner

You've been half-expecting Jeonghan and Seungcheol to show up just behind you, when you and Joshua arrived home, but to your relief, they haven't appeared. Two hours have passed since you both returned, and you took their absence as assurance that they accepted your refusal for tonight's activities. As you go through your nightly routine, taking a relaxing bath and slipping into your favorite pajamas – Joshua's worn-out shirt and your underwear – you start to feel a sense of peace settle over you.

However, just as you're about to settle into bed after you done your nightly routine, the doorbell rings, shattering your sense of calm. Your heart races as you exchange a knowing glance with Joshua, silently communicating your worry.

He kisses your temple reassuringly before getting up to answer the door, his expression a mix of resignation and amusement.

Sure enough, when he returns to the bedroom, you see this two motherf*ckers, Jeonghan and Seungcheol grinning from ear to ear, holding a bag between them.

"Sorry we're late, just stopped by a sex shop on the way," Jeonghan announces with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Seungcheol adds, "You didn't forget about us, right?"

Before you can respond, they empty the contents of the bag onto your bed, revealing an array of toys and accessories, from handcuffs to blindfolds to various sizes of dildos and vibrators. Your eyes widen in surprise and disbelief at the sheer audacity of their purchase.

"You're serious about this?" you ask incredulously, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

They both share a meaningful look before turning their attention back to you. "Dead serious," they reply in unison, their expressions leaving no room for doubt.

You sigh, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you as you voice your reluctance. "I'm already tired, guys. Can't we save this for another time?" you suggest, pulling the blanket over yourself in a silent plea for them to respect your wishes.

But Seungcheol isn't deterred. With a playful grin, he gently removes the blanket covering you, revealing your tired but still adorable form. "Aw, look at how cute you are," he comments, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

You shoot a pleading glance at Joshua, silently hoping he'll support your decision to call it a night. However, you find him surprisingly eager, as he retrieves a blindfold with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Come on, babe," Joshua says persuasively, his voice coaxing. "This could be the first and final time we try something like this. You've always been open to experimenting, so why not give it a chance?"

You hesitate, torn between your exhaustion and the allure of trying something new with your partner and friends. With a sigh, you finally relent, nodding reluctantly as you allow Joshua to place the blindfold over your eyes, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement at what the night may hold.

"Such a good girl," Joshua murmurs approvingly, his lips brushing yours in a gentle peck as he fastens the blindfold securely over your eyes.

Before you can react, you feel the sensation of something cold and metallic wrapping around your wrist. Startled, you realize that Jeonghan has placed handcuffs on you, securing your hands together.

"Why don't we add this to the mix?" he suggests, his voice filled with mischief as he tightens the restraints, ensuring they're snug but not uncomfortable.

Sensing your apprehension, Joshua interjects with a note of reassurance. "Don't worry, princess," he says softly, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "We'll use a safe word in case things get too intense."

You nod, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness, you remain still as you sense someone removing your underwear, the cool air brushing against your skin. Simultaneously, another hand raises your shirt, exposing your bare torso.

"Here, bite down on this," Jeonghan's voice instructs gently, his tone both reassuring and commanding.

You comply, taking hold of the fabric with your teeth, feeling a surge of excitement and vulnerability as you await the next move. The blindfold heightens your senses, amplifying every touch and sound as you surrender to the sensations enveloping you, guided by the desires of Joshua and his friends.

"Why don't you open your legs for us, doll?" Seungcheol's voice breaks through the anticipation, his tone both firm and teasing.

You obey his command, parting your legs as instructed, feeling a rush of excitement and vulnerability at the thought of being exposed to their gaze.

As you comply, you hear Joshua's voice interjecting, a note of caution lacing his words. "Let's not go overboard, guys," he says firmly, his tone carrying a hint of authority as he settles into the armchair nearby.

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel someone's presence behind you, their hands reaching around to grope your breasts, pinching and pulling at your hard nipples. Their breath tickles your ear as they bite and suck on the sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"God, you're so responsive," Jeonghan murmurs huskily, his voice sending a thrill down your spine.

Just then, you hear the distinct sound of a cup being opened, and you realize that Seungcheol is now joining in the action.

"You’re already getting so wet," he teases, his voice filled with amusement as he continues to prepare the dildo. "Looks like you’re enjoying this more than you thought."

Blindfolded and vulnerable, you suddenly feel something pressing against your entrance. As it slips inside you, a gasp escapes your lips, causing the shirt you were biting to fall from your mouth. Jeonghan quickly catches it, his touch firm yet gentle.

"Bite it again," he whispers softly, guiding the fabric back between your teeth. He plants a tender kiss on the side of your lips, his breath warm against your skin. "We wouldn't want your lovely sounds to be too loud, would we?" His lips linger for a moment before pulling away, the intimate gesture heightening your arousal even more.

Seungcheol begins to thrust the dildo inside you slowly, the sensation intensifying with each deliberate movement. The toy glides in smoothly, aided by the generous amount of lube, and you can feel every inch of it stretching and filling you. He pulls it out almost entirely before pushing it back in, setting a torturous pace that leaves you craving more.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan continues his sensual exploration of your body. One of his hands squeezes and kneads your breast, his fingers expertly finding and teasing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you. His other hand is occupied with your other breast, but this time with his mouth. His lips encircle your nipple, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure, his tongue swirling and flicking the sensitive bud.

Your moans grow louder as Seungcheol’s thrusts become more forceful, pushing you closer to the edge of climax. The relentless pace drives you wild, the pleasure intensifying with each movement.

Suddenly, Hannie cups your face, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, exploring and tangling with yours, the sensation pushing you further into a state of bliss. You crave more, your body instinctively straining against the handcuffs as you try to pull him closer.

"Please," you manage to moan between kisses, your voice filled with desperation. "Let me touch you..."

But he pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of desire and control. "No, darling," he murmurs softly, his voice firm yet affectionate. "You need to stay just like this." Seungcheol’s voice joins in, his tone teasing. "You look so perfect all chained up and desperate. Just enjoy the ride."

Jeonghan's lips return to yours, silencing any further protests, while his hands continue their relentless exploration of your body.

As you feel yourself nearing the peak of ecstasy, Seungcheol abruptly removes the sex toy from your body, leaving you in a state of desperate need and frustration. Your breath hitches as you're left panting and trembling, on the brink of release but denied the final push.

Seungcheol rummages through the pile of sex toys he and Jeonghan brought, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, Josh, have you two ever done anal?" he asks casually, his tone playful yet suggestive.

Joshua, thoroughly enjoying the scene, responds with a smirk. "Yeah, we've tried it," he replies nonchalantly, sending a surge of humiliation and arousal coursing through you.

Seungcheol's grin widens as he turns his attention back to you, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "Well, well, seems like you're in for a treat," he says teasingly, his fingers trailing over the array of toys at his disposal.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you realize what he's implying, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension swirling in your mind. With your senses heightened and your body on edge, you brace yourself for whatever pleasures—and challenges—lie ahead.

Seungcheol begins to prepare the anal bead, coating it generously with lube as he looks at you with a wicked grin. "You need to be prepped properly before we let two dicks enter you," he remarks, his tone both playful and suggestive.

You're still catching your breath from the earlier sensations when Jeonghan asks Seungcheol for the wand vibrator. Without hesitation, Cheol hands it over, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

The two of them work together, teasing and pleasuring you in a dizzying whirlwind of sensation. Seungcheol inserts the anal bead slowly but steadily, each inch driving you closer to the edge. Meanwhile, Jeonghan places the wand vibrator against your folds, allowing you to acclimate to the sensation before pressing it directly against your clitoris.

As the vibrations send waves of pleasure coursing through you, you find yourself on the brink of orgasm. "I'm coming," you gasp, your voice thick with need and lust.

But just as you're about to tip over into ecstasy, Jeonghan abruptly stops his actions, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. You whimper in frustration, the intensity of the pleasure almost unbearable as you struggle to regain your composure, your body still quivering with anticipation and need.

As the blindfold begins to loosen, your vision clears enough to see Joshua watching the scene with avid interest. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you plead with him for help, your voice thick with desperation.

"Joshua, please," you beg, reaching out to him for support. "I need... I need to come."

Joshua meets your gaze, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he watches you squirm. "Sorry, babe," he says with a playful smirk. "But I think you're in good hands."

You let out a whine of frustration, feeling the discomfort of the handcuffs digging into your wrists. Turning to Joshua with pleading eyes, you whimper, "Joshua, please… Can't they at least remove the handcuffs? They're hurting me…"

Seungcheol chuckles at your plea, his tone teasing as he responds, "Oh, you want the handcuffs off, do you? Well, you're going to have to beg properly if you want that, doll."

You let out another frustrated groan, realizing that they're not going to make it easy for you. With a mixture of humiliation and arousal coursing through you, you take a deep breath and muster up the courage to beg, knowing that it's the only way to get some relief from the restraints.

Jeonghan finally takes pity on you and removes the handcuffs, allowing you to massage your sore wrists with relief. Before you can fully relax, however, he swiftly removes your shirt, declaring, "This shirt kept bothering me," with a playful grin.

You let out a sigh of relief as you feel the fabric slide off your skin, grateful for the small comfort it brings. But as you try to adjust your position, you're reminded of the toy still nestled inside you, keeping you on edge.

With a growing sense of impatience, you turn to the two men, your voice tinged with frustration as you demand, "When are you two going to start fucking me? I'm losing my patience here."

Their laughter fills the room, mingling with the sound of the vibrating toy and your own needy moans, as they exchange knowing glances, clearly enjoying the game they're playing with you.

Seungcheol's voice sends a shiver down your spine as he instructs you to turn over and lift your ass. Without hesitation, you comply, shifting onto your hands and knees, presenting yourself to them.

As you face Jeonghan, he removes the blindfold from your eyes, allowing you to see him clearly for the first time since the evening began. The room spins momentarily as you take in his gaze, a mixture of desire and adoration reflected in his eyes.

You find yourself leaning into Jeonghan's neck, seeking comfort and stability as Seungcheol begins to remove the anal bead from your ass. The sensation is both exhilarating and intense, causing you to gasp and moan softly.

Seungcheol's hand comes down in a sharp slap against your ass, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. "You're ready to take them," he declares confidently, his voice filled with anticipation and desire.

Before your friends begin to fuck you, Joshua calls you over to him with a commanding tone. "Come here, princess" he says, spreading his legs wide open, the bulge in his shorts visible to you.

With a mix of anticipation and excitement, you crawl towards him, feeling a surge of desire building within you as you gaze at the bulge in his shorts.

You obediently start to suck him, your lips wrapping around him as you take him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him, eliciting a soft groan from Joshua as you begin to move your head back and forth, sucking him eagerly.

As you pleasure him, you can't help but feel the heat between your legs intensify. With one hand wrapped around his shaft, you use the other to tease yourself, slipping your fingers between your folds and circling your clit. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as you continue to pleasure Joshua with your mouth.

You hear the other two commenting on your actions, their voices filled with admiration and arousal. "Look at her, sucking Joshua like a pro while fingering herself," Seungcheol remarks, his tone filled with lust.

Jeonghan adds, his voice husky with desire, "She's so lewd and needy, it's driving me crazy."

Their words only fuel your arousal further, pushing you closer to the edge as you lose yourself in the intoxicating pleasure of servicing Joshua while satisfying your own desires.

As Joshua and you reach your climax, waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and spent. You collapse against his thigh, catching your breath as his warm essence lands on your face. He gently wipes away some of the remaining fluid from your mouth and cleanses your face, his touch tender and reassuring.

Once you've caught your breath, Joshua gives Seungcheol and Jeonghan his approval, signaling that they can finally fuck you. Seungcheol scoops you up in his arms, carrying you over to the bed with a possessive yet tender grip, laying you down gently.

Jeonghan lies naked before you, his gaze intense as he invites you to take control, his voice husky with desire. "Come ride me, darling," he urges, his hands reaching out to caress your hips, urging you to straddle him.

With a seductive smile, you eagerly comply, positioning yourself above him. Your hands find purchase on his chest as you lower yourself onto his erect shaft, feeling him slide effortlessly into you. A soft moan escapes your lips as you begin to move, your hips rocking back and forth in a slow, tantalizing rhythm.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers digging into his skin as you rock your hips in rhythm with his thrusts.

Jeonghan's hands roam your body, gripping your breast firmly. "That's it, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Ride me just like that."

Meanwhile, Seungcheol kneels behind you, his hands finding your hips as he positions himself. With a firm yet gentle push, he guides you back against Jeonghan's chest, his own arousal pressing against your entrance.

You gasp as he enters you from behind, the sensation of being filled in both your pussy and ass overwhelming yet intoxicating. Seungcheol straddles your hips, his weight pressing down on you as he crouches low, his thrusts synchronized with yours and Jeonghan's.

Lost in the ecstasy of the moment, you close your eyes, surrendering yourself completely to the pleasure. You feel yourself clenching around them, the sensation driving you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Suddenly, you feel something poking your face, and when you open your eyes, you see Joshua standing before you, his desire evident in the hunger in his eyes. With a wicked grin, he suggests joining in on the action.

"I want all of your holes to be occupied," he says, his voice dripping with lust. "So why don't you be pretty good girl and let me fuck your face?"

You nod eagerly at Joshua's request, your lips parting to accommodate his erect cock. As he enters your mouth, you feel a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. Your hand finds purchase on his thigh for support, while your other hand rests on Jeonghan's chest, seeking comfort in the midst of the overwhelming sensations.

Joshua begins to thrust into your mouth with controlled urgency, setting a rhythm that matches the movements of Seungcheol and Jeonghan behind you. His cock fills your mouth completely, stretching your lips around him as he drives himself deeper with each thrust.

You focus on the task at hand, using your tongue and lips to pleasure Joshua as best you can amidst the onslaught of sensations. The taste of his arousal fills your senses, mingling with the sounds of your own muffled moans and the wet, rhythmic sounds of thrusts of the two men sandwiching you.

As the three men continue to thrust into your respective holes, the pleasure becomes almost overwhelming. Your body trembles with arousal as you feel your orgasm building relentlessly, the intensity of the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

But just as you're about to reach the peak, the pressure and stimulation become too much to bear. With a gasp, you feel yourself teetering on the brink of release before everything fades away into darkness, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

As you faint into unconsciousness, Joshua quickly withdraws his cock from your mouth, concern etched on his face as you slump against Jeonghan's body. The suddenness of your collapse shocks all three men, their expressions filled with worry and uncertainty.

The other two swiftly remove their cocks from your trembling body, their hands gentle as they lay you down on the bed, their concern evident in their actions.

The realization that none of them have reached their climax yet adds to the frustration in the room. Joshua breaks the silence, his voice tinged with urgency. "There are enough bathrooms in the house," he suggests, gesturing towards the door. "You two can finish on your own."

Seungcheol and Jeonghan exchange a glance, understanding passing between them as they reluctantly nod in agreement. With a mixture of disappointment and anticipation, they gather themselves and make their way out of the room, leaving you lying on the bed, unconscious and spent from the intense pleasure.

With a sigh, Joshua carefully lifts you in his arms, carrying you to the bathtub where he gently cleanses you, his touch tender as he washes away the remnants of your shared passion. Once you're cleaned and refreshed, he carries you back to the bed and covers you with a warm blanket, ensuring you're comfortable before he leaves to take care of his own needs in the restroom.

When he returns, he finds Jeonghan and Seungcheol sitting on the edge of the bed, their own desires sated.

Seungcheol chuckles softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Looks like she's really tired, huh?" he remarks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Joshua nods in agreement as he lays down beside you, gently caressing your hair with a tender touch. "Well, we've been edging her for hours," he points out, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "And let's not forget the fact that there were three of us inside her."

Jeonghan joins the conversation, his voice filled with affection as he adds, "She did so well, though. I'm impressed by how much she could take."

As the two men prepare to leave, they each lean down to kiss your forehead tenderly, expressing their gratitude and bidding farewell to Joshua. With a final glance at your sleeping form, they exit the room, leaving you and Shua alone.

As they depart, Joshua wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as he cuddles you gently. He guides your head to rest on his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring beneath your ear as he whispers soothing words of comfort.

part 1

....... ≿━━━━━༺S.COUPS༻━━━━━≾ .......

....... ≿━━━━༺JEONGHAN༻━━━━≾ .......

....... ≿━━━━━༺JOSHUA༻━━━━━≾ .......

[dollyhyuckii]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗮𝗹- 𝘀.𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗽𝘀⋆୨୧˚

word count- 924 ♡

content- bf s.coups! x reader! ♡

genre: fluff ♡

warnings- kissing/everything is in lowercase on purpose ♡

୨୧˚authors note -this is for the seventeen drabble week! , you can read all of them here!

as the early morning sunlight poured through the window, casting a golden glow over the small apartment, s.coups stirred awake. it was just another hectic thursday, or so he thought. the buzz of his phone jolted him from his sleepy haze. his boss had sent a flurry of emails, each one a urgent reminder of deadlines looming. today was going to be chaotic, but today also held something special, something that would change everything.

you still slept peacefully next to him, your hair splayed across the pillow, a serene smile resting on her lips. s.coups heart swelled with affection. he had planned this day for weeks, and as much as he dreaded the work that awaited him, his mind was solely focused on the evening ahead. he was determined to make it perfect.

after a rushed breakfast and a frantic scramble to get dressed, s.coups stepped out into the crisp autumn air. the city buzzed around him, a symphony of honking cars, people chatting , and the distant sound of construction. he walked quickly, weaving through the throngs of people, his mind racing with thoughts of you and his future together.

the clock ticked relentlessly, and between meetings and deadlines, he couldn’t shake the sense of urgency building inside him. he had to find that rin, the perfect symbol of his love, before the date night began. it was all he could think about as he glanced at his watch repeatedly, willing the hours to pass more quickly.

finally , with a few hours to spare, s.coups heart raced as he approached the small jewelry store nestled between two bustling cafes. the bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, greeting him with the comforting scent of polished wood and fresh flowers.

“can I help you?” asked a friendly salesperson, her eyes sparkling with interest.

“im looking for an engagement ring,” he replied, trying to sound calm despite the butterflies dancing in his stomach.

“of course! do you have any preferences?” she asked, guiding him toward a display of shimmering diamonds and colorful gemstones.

s.coups scanned the selections, imagining how each ring might look on your finger. he wanted something classic yet unique, just like you. after what felt like an eternity, he spotted it, a delicate rose gold band adorned with a petite diamond that sparkled with a fiery brilliance, reminiscent of your bright personality. “this one,” he said, feeling a rush of excitement.

once the purchase was complete, he tucked the small box into his pocket, his heart racing with anticipation. thoughts of their favorite spot, the quiet little Italian restaurant where they had shared countless laughs and moments, filled his mind. tonight would be special.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, s.coups hurried home, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in his chest. he quickly showered, changed into his nice clothes, and decided to surprise you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers , sunflowers. they symbolized adoration and loyalty, a perfect representation of how he felt.

when he arrived at the restaurant, the familiar aroma of garlic bread and marinara sauce enveloped him, instantly making him feel at ease. the space was intimate and filled with soft, romantic music. you were already seated at their usual corner table, your eyes lighting up when you saw him.

“hey baby.. you look beautiful !” he said, placing the flowers in front of you.

“they’re beautiful, love.. thank you!” you leaned in and kissed his cheek, you’re warmth melting away the stress of the day. you both chatted and laughed, enjoying the meal, but s.coups mind was elsewhere. as the main course came to an end, he felt the time drawing near.

“baby.., can we take a walk?” he suggested, his voice slightly shaky.

“yes , of course!” you replied, excitedly. the crisp evening air felt refreshing as you both strolled hand in hand along the twinkling streets, the world buzzing around them.

finally, you both reached the small park that held so many memories, picnics, late

night talks, and laughter echoing beneath the stars. s.coups heart raced as he turned to face you, the moment he had been waiting for finally upon him.

“my love , there’s something i need to tell you,” he started, his voice steadying. “you mean everything to me, and i can’t imagine my life without you.”

he knelt on one knee, retrieving the small box from his pocket. the world seemed to fade away as he opened it, revealing the stunning ring that glimmered in the moonlight.

“baby, will you marry me?”

your hands flew to your mouth in shock, tears brimming in your eyes. “oh my gosh! yes! yes, of course!”

s.coups slid the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling, and as soon as it was in place, you fell into each other’s arms. both of your lips met in a deep, passionate kiss, all the tension and excitement of the day melting away. it wasn’t just a kiss, it was the kind that spoke volumes, where words couldn’t. you both lost yourself’s in each other, hands roaming, hearts pounding.

you pulled back for a moment, your forehead resting against his, both of your breaths ragged as you both smiled through the tears. “i love you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“i love you too,” you replied, his heart swelling with joy and relief.

you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing again, the city fading away around them. in that moment, nothing else mattered. it was just the two of you, your love.

[sadgurls-blog]

Just Coups doing this

[yyawnjun]

BUTTONS

seventeen!95'lines × reader (separately)

summary: according to an ancient story, the greatest way to confess to the girl you love is to give her the top button of your uniform. Knowing thus tradition, here's how I think S.coups, Jeonghan and Joshua would confess their love.

comments, like and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it ♡

high school romance ; fluff!! ; 2.6k wc ; I am so weak for them 😭 ; @kflixnet ; pt2

thank u so much to my fav girl @sobun1est for proofreading this (she deserves the world AND a confession by S.coups asap !!)

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL [ 최승철 ]

Choi Seungcheol. The school slacker. The first time you heard his name was when the science teacher begged you to help him with his finals. He needed help in all scientific subjects, such as math, physics, bio, and chemistry… but from what was said, he was considered hopeless. The first time you met him, he was wearing a pajama - because he refused to “be like the others” wearing the uniform - and kept chewing gum while listening to music while you were trying your best to help him with his math homework.

From that very first moment, you understood why everyone thought he was considered a desperate case. In the first week, he did not listen to you at all, not even glancing at you, he had arrived late and left after less than an hour.

Over time he started to look at you and listen to you. He started to admire your patience, your passion, your focused look as you wrote, your clear voice as you explained, your optimism, and your kind heart...

At the same time, you also started to become attached to him when he first showed the will to improve his situation. Indeed after a week, he bought his first pencil, after two weeks he bought a schoolbag, and after a month he even had a collector with all of the subjects - it was quite well organized at the end of the third month.

His appearance improved during those months: his eyes appeared less tired, his hair wasn't greasy anymore, and he even wore half of the uniform.

On Monday, the results of the final exams had just arrived. It was 9 a.m. - still very early, as they would not display the result posters until 11 a.m. - when your science teacher called you with Seungcheol.

You both came out of your respective classes and as soon as you arrived in front of the teacher, she almost started tearing up with happiness at the news she wanted to announce to you. S.coups, as you had learned to call him by now, had passed all his exams. These were the exact words spoken to you by the professor. She almost jumped up and hugged you, but you were more focused on the proud smile that adorned your friend's face. Indeed by now, you were friends.

After hearing the news, to celebrate you opted to go for a bite to eat at the café near the school after class. That café where you first met when it all started is now filled with your happy chatter.

Having the time to be with him for more hours on that day, you were able to notice so many other details of the new S.coups. He had a rested face, a lot of energy in his speech, brighter eyes, and even an almost complete uniform - he had promised you that he would wear it perfectly only on the last day of school. After some time, he also managed to thank you from the bottom of his heart, and you to gain more confidence in your teaching abilities.

So, the last day of school had arrived, the last goodbyes, hugs, chats, and farewells before the end. But on that very full day, you had by no means forgotten your promise.

In fact, after saying goodbye to your friends, you moved to look for the boy. Thirty minutes had now passed, but nothing. You were about to give un helieving that you had overemphasized what had been between you. You turned to leave until a deep, masculine voice came to your ears that you now knew very well from hearing him repeat all the rules possible and imaginable.

You turned and saw him in all his glory. The sun was shining on his face, and his hair styled with was barely moving in the wind. His eyes were smiling, and he was still shouting your name to indicate his location. Only when he was closer, did you notice that he was wearing his uniform.

His eyes and chest were filled with pride, his smile was proud, and his happiness was more alive than ever. After a quick hug, he pointed out his uniform to you - emphasizing how uncomfortable it was and how much he had done it for you. With dreamy eyes, you stared into his eyes, and he accepted the challenge. Time and space around you appeared still, it was only you and him. But shortly, your eye was drawn to a detail in his clothing. A button was missing from his clothing, the first one from the top, and it was clear that it had been detached.

He noticed the movement of your gaze and your puzzlement. But before you could say anything, he had put the missing button in front of your face. As if to prevent you from doubting him and his promises to you.

"I read that giving the first button of one's uniform to the loved girl is a way of confession," he told you.

"Oh, your romantic side," and before you could ask him any more questions, he shushed you for the second time - like he used to do proudly when he explained the lesson he had learned because of you.

"Here, this is for you," he said handing you the button.  In the end, he kept his promise: he was in his perfect (uni)form, wearing his school uniform and demonstrating his love to you.

YOON JEONGHAN [ 윤정한 ]

Yoon Jeonghan was taller than you, his eyes were brown as hazelnut and his hair black as ebony, his skin was flawless and his smile was always feeble. Although his sneaky character did not match his angel and kind appearance. From the teacher’s point of view, he was the perfect, smart, and angelic student. To everyone, he was the popular, handsome, and cocky boy. To you, he was something more.

You two had many classes together during high school, and you managed to learn more about him. Even if you did not speak much to him, you caught another side of him. Behind his angel appearance and presumptuous acting was a gentle boy. That gentle boy that made you lose your mind for him. You noticed once how he helped a guy who was being bullied or another time when he stayed until 11 pm in the library to help a girl with her math homework. 

So time passed and he quickly became your crush, someone you would always look at and admire from afar. You can’t say that he did not like attention, because he did. But he liked them only when they focused on the things he wanted - like his appearance, his carelessness, his intelligence. He did not want to expose too much of his kind side and you always wondered why,  and the more you knew about him the more you started to like him.

One-side love, mh? That was what you kept reminding yourself while observing him from afar. Many gorgeous girls and boys liked him openly, but he always ended up rejecting them; so you chose to stay silent and watch him from afar.

On one hand, it was nice to have someone to romanticize, someone to think about before bed, or when you needed to cheer up. But immediately after that comfortable feeling, a melancholy one showed up. But it's the one-sided love, isn't it?

So the years passed, you changed, and your crush on him got stronger. Until the last days before the end of high school. When you found yourself, on the last Monday in high school, on a fresh summer night - instead of studying - focusing on the choice of the words for the anonymous letter you would have given to him tomorrow.

He did not want to expose too much of his kind side and you always wondered why,  and the more you knew about him the more you started to like him.You closed it at 10 am before putting it in his lock. As soon as you did, a huge weight lifted from your consciousness, making room for another.

He had seen you secretly place something in his locker. Because after you put the letter Jeonghan saw you, YN.

Yn, the one who won his heart since his freshman year of high school. The one who had been on his mind for years, and as much as he didn't want it, the heart decided on its own.  He instinctively came closer to see what it was, but you quickly moved away. After a week, you went from wanting to confess to wanting to die to hide your feelings for him. 

Your week was no different from his. Until Friday, the last day of school. Your heart lightened when all the exams - and the high school years with them - were over. The day was going beautifully, and you had stopped one last time to look at your - now ex-school. The others had slowly left, it was late afternoon, and you would have to go soon too. So many memories mixed with laughter and tears, so many regrets mixed with victories and disappointments.

Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice that he reached you. You were startled when someone patted your shoulder. He had arrived in silence, and without speaking he made so much noise in your heart that it started beating wildly. You looked at him awkwardly... since the day he saw you put the love letter into his locker, you had only given each other fleeting glances.

He kept not saying a word and looked down at his uniform. The sound of the button being detached from the uniform was the first sound you had heard since his arrival. Still, in disbelief, you didn't move.  He took your hand and placed the button in it.

He smiled at you, with the faint smile of him - the one that you loved so intensely - with those hazel eyes that had drawn you, he patted your head, and without saying anything he turned to leave. Was this perhaps his way of confessing… Wait, was he confessing?

Your surprised look was replaced by a huge smile, and your heart kept beating rapidly - but not anymore only for the love tension, now even for the exhaustion of running as you chased him, demanding answers, confessions, and maybe something more...

HONG JISOO [ 홍지수 ]

Everyone knew who Hong Jisoo was. Everyone called him Joshua, and he was known as one of the nicest and kindest boys at school.  However, he was so kind that people easily took advantage of him. Starting with occasional help with English homework, solving math problems, and planning for free private lessons several times per week.

Initially, he was happy that he could help everyone and was flattered when girls came to him with long letters that showed to be a mix of a confession of love and thanks for the school's help.

However, the more he gave of himself to others, the less of himself left. Joshua was gradually wearing himself out. He was so focused on others that he had forgotten about himself.

He thought about this for the first time as he left for school, with music in his ears as he finished tying up his uniform. Just as he was about to do so, he realized it was missing again the top button. The one that was meant to be given to the girl he loved. Instead, someone stole it for him when he had left his uniform in class for PE class.

It was the third time that week, but he had gradually accepted it because he didn't know who was responsible. He kept reminding himself that school would be over in a week. He could bear with it, right? So he arrived at school, greeted everyone with his usual cheerful smile, and sat down. Resigned that he would be without a button for one more day.

Or so he thought. In his underbench was a rosy cloth tissue, with a brand-new button inside and a small note saying: Take care of yourself.

The gesture made him smile immensely and soothed his troubled soul. Who on earth could it have been? Who on earth could have noticed what had happened to him?

And as his curiosity increased, so did your beats as you watched him bask in the happiness of having found your gift for him. Indeed, you had long noticed how much he was a victim of others' exploitation. 

And once, after you had asked him who his love was - referring to the missing button - he had told you that someone had even taken the button off his uniform.

Since then you began to feel closer to that boy, who appeared perfect and cheerful from a distance. And you had decided to help him secretly and from a distance.  And you realized that was great; seeing him happy after finding the button had already brightened your day.

The day had gone by swiftly, and you had exchanged a few words with him as usual. He had been gentle as always and proudly wore the button given to him.

The daily hour of PE arrived, and for the fourth time, his button was stolen.

This time it hurt him a bit more because it was a gift; you could see a blank expression on his face, a dull grin, and a suppressed anger with clenched teeth. That day he returned home earlier than everyone.

But the next day - the last day of school - you put for the second time a button on a pink tissue for him. “I am on your side; take care of yourself!” That was the new note you'd left on his desk.

As soon as he saw it, he hurried back to the school tailor's class and sewed it tightly to his uniform with a needle and thread.

Because it was the last day of school, you were both happy with the end of the tests, and your day went well until the last hour. You did not do PE, so you stayed in class and napped on your desk. 

You did it to rest but also tried to catch the button thief in the act. It had been a few minutes since you heard the classroom door open and saw who had come. You quickly took a picture, scaring the thief away, but the robbery had already happened, and the button was missing again. Anger welled up in your veins after Joshua's button was stolen for the umpteenth time.

Without thinking about it, you pulled off the first button on your uniform, and with the sewing kit you always carried with you, you put it on his uniform. 

Just in time for when your classmates returned to class.

You knew it was a button from the girl's uniform, but you hoped that he would not pay too much attention to it. And so it seemed, for he had said nothing and had only put his uniform back on.

So high school had ended, and you were heading home free of stress and negative feelings. When you heard someone call out your name. 

You stopped and turned around; it was Joshua. He was running toward you waving his hand. "There's something I want to give you." He told you as he caught his breath after catching up with you.

"I think you know the legend of the button given to the loved one - and you nodded as your heart rate grew, was this what you thought was going on? - Here. Here it is the button as an act of my love and gratitude for your kindness, which quietly brightened my day."

With that said, he approached your face and very carefully began stitching up the missing button on your uniform with one of his own.

On a pleasant summer day, you two confessed your love with a button exchange, hand in hand, and excitement in your heart.

[cheolism]

frozen cold proposal

✧ seungcheol x reader

✧ summary: seungcheol is stubborn and decides to try and make soup over the fire. you stumble upon a surprise in his pockets when trying to huddle against him for warmth.

✧ wc is approx 1.5k

✧ notes: cursing, bickering but nothing serious. a little brother is mentioned. a lot of choi seungcheol stubborness. inspired by the new in the soop photos. not edited.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whispered, shoving your hands between your thighs for warmth. Your hoodie was pushed up and as tightly wound around your face as you could bear, but that did nothing to save your nose from the cold and bitter winter air that nipped at it. 

You were a fool, a giant fool. What sort of person wanted to go camping in winter? Your boyfriend, the one and only Choi Seungcheol, of course! Seungkwan had said he was crazy and you had agreed, but what did that say about you for agreeing to go with?

“This is it,” you monologue, eyes staring into the crackling fire. “This is how my nose goes. It’s going to fucking drop off into our soup.”

Your boyfriend throws you a look over his shoulder. He’s standing next to the fire, dutifully stirring the soup he insisted on trying to make. 

We’re camping, he said when you exclaimed at him bringing out a pot and cans. I saw someone make soup while camping once. It can’t be that hard.

As much as you loved Choi Seungcheol and wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, you knew better than to get your hopes up when he said “it can’t be that hard.”

That phrase was reserved for special occasions. It was used on your first date when you had despaired over losing to the claw machine for the third time, which in turn had prompted Seungcheol to spend the next twenty minutes there. It was used when your brother had come back to the house upset, tears leaking from his eyes as he relayed that his remote-control boat had gotten stuck in the middle of the lake. 

It can’t be that hard to get it, Seungcheol had said, your little brother’s cheers amplifying his arrogance. 

Five minutes later the heavens had opened up and began pouring down rain, thunder crackling in the distance. You were begging Seungcheol to return to shore while your brother continued to cheer for him, egging him on, intent on getting his boat back. 

So when Seungcheol said that special little phrase, you knew it was best to just kick back and try to relax. But with the winter wind sharp and smacking against your skin, you found it hard. 

“Cheol we have a perfectly good stove inside the cabin,” you begged, shivering. “We rented the damn place for this very reason! For convenience!” 

“Mingyu said it wasn’t hard.” Seungcheol returned, resting the ladle on the side of the pot. “Do you think the fire isn’t hot enough?”

You sighed, flinging yourself back in your chair. Mingyu. Of course it was Kim Mingyu who gave him this idea. Removing your hands from between your thighs, you shoved them inside your armpits. “Seungcheol. You’re the love of my fucking life and I literally can’t wait to spend the rest of our days together. But I swear to every single fucking god on this earth --”

“You can go inside if you want,” he replied. You watched your boyfriend go to the wood pile, removing a few logs. “But a thousand years ago, this was how all humans made their food, you know? Outside, exposed to the elements.”

You guffawed. “Seungcheol! One thousand years ago it was 1000 A.C. They fucking had houses and inside ovens by then! The cold is fucking getting to your brain, oh my God!”

He sighed, turning to you. Seungcheol placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his brow and pouting out his lips. “If you don’t believe in me just say so.”

“I believe in you,” you said, “but not when it’s fucking thirty degrees outside, not counting the wind chill! And! And! I’m fucking starving! Cheol, please, baby, darling.”

Pushing out his lips, Seungcheol threw you one last look before turning to the fire. He grabbed the ladle again, leaning over the pot. “Just go inside and have a sandwich and some chips then.”

Fuck. And now he was sulking. 

Sighing, you stood from your seat. Dead leaves and grass crinkled underneath your boots as you made your way to him. You pressed yourself against his back, removing your hands from your armpits and fumbling with the hem of his three layers. 

“Wait --”

But then you found the edge and lifted it, hurriedly shoving your hands underneath and against his stomach. Seungcheol shrieked, a loud and pitchy sound, one of his hands slapping at your forearm. “Get! Get out! Your hands are fucking cold!”

“I said I was cold,” you murmured, mashing your face against his jacket. Your boyfriend constantly radiated warmth, and somehow, despite the winter weather, tonight was no exception. “This is your price.”

“My price for wanting to make my lover a homemade meal?” He returned, shortly and with a great amount of audacity. 

You pinched at the little roll of fat on his stomach, ignoring his little yelp. “Quiet. You don’t want the bears to hear you.”

“There’s not even bears here,” Seungcheol murmured, but quieter all the same. 

You closed your eyes as you leaned against him, soaking in his warmth. Sometimes you found how hot he ran unbearable, like during the night when the two of you were under blankets and he decided to press himself against you. More times than not you woke up covered in sweat, wrapped in his embrace. 

But now?

Now you were burrowing closer, hands moving to get a better grip on your boyfriend. 

“Baby,” he began, voice strained. “Stop moving.”

Impish, you kept on running your hands over your boyfriend’s skin. You felt his hips, his stomach. You continued exploring his skin beneath the many layers he wore, ignoring his pleas. 

“If you’re getting horny,” you said, one hand moving to where his pants began, “we can solve that. We’re in the middle of the forest, baby. With no one around.” “Y/n, I’m serious,” he said, dropping the ladle in the soup. Your hands froze against him, Seungcheol turning in your hold. “I know you have a problem listening, but --”

When his eyes met yours, he knew it was up. 

Your eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. If it wasn’t so cold and the flies weren’t all hibernating, you’d be swallowing them. 

“Baby?” He tried, voice pitched and on the verge of panic. 

“You --” You pressed closer again, and this time Seungcheol didn’t stop you. You shoved your hand into his pocket, immediately coming upon what had stopped you in your tracks. 

Withdrawing it from his pocket, you cradled the box in your hands. “Cheol?”

Sighing, as if his lover had just discovered a ring box in his pockets when he had intended on setting up a romantic scene to propose to them in, Seungcheol tilted his head back and peered up at the night sky. 

For the moment the two of you were quiet. You could hear the wind whistling, the crackle of the fire. 

“Well?” Seungcheol finally said, his hand in his hair and dislodging his hoodie as he looked down at you. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Gulping, and with half-frozen fingers, you pried open the box. A beautiful ring stared back at you, silver and brilliant, perfect, beautiful. You could barely see what the ring truly looked like, could barely see all the details Seungcheol would’ve been hellbent on including, but you knew it was gorgeous. You knew it. It was a promise from Choi Seungcheol; a promise for forever. A promise to love and care and be there for you for the rest of your lives, and how could it be anything but perfect and gorgeous?

Then Seungcheol was gently pulling the box away from you. You watched, still awe-struck, as your boyfriend sunk down to one knee. 

The firelight illuminated his profile, casting shadows on his noble face. His grey hoodie was lopsided on his head, revealing his thick dark curls. His nose was red from where the cold had bitten at it, and his lips were horribly chapped. 

But what could be more beautiful than that?

Softly, and with gentle eyes and shyly grinning lips, Seungcheol said your name. Nothing could sound as beautiful as that, you knew. 

“Would you do me the absolute honor; would you give me the privilege of being able to marry you?”

You licked at your lips, feeling something sting at the corner of your eyes. Maybe it was just the wind. You sniffled, your palm reaching up and rubbing at your eye. “If -- If I say yes, will I have to stay out here with you while you make your soup?”

Seungcheol laughed, loudly and boyishly. “If you say yes I’ll order us a fucking pizza and beer and we can spend the rest of the night in the heat.”

“Well, in that case,” you said, grinning wildly. You held out your hand, wiggling your fingers. “Hurry up, lover boy, before I lose one of them to the cold.”

“It’s not too late for me to take it back,” he said, taking the ring from the box. Seungcheol’s other hand went to yours, cradling it, as he brought the ring to your fingertip.

You shook your head, the metal of the ring not yet cold as he slid it against your finger. “Nope! You asked so beautifully, Cheol. No take backs.”

“Damn,” he sighed, peering up at you with those beautiful brown eyes that first captivated you, smiling and holding your hand in his. “And here I was really looking forward to that soup.”

[januaryrabbit]

Request: how svt would deal with their crush being in a relationship already (their crush is their bff)

hello! thank you for requesting, im sorry its so late!! :) this scenario is kinda angsty so i hope you dont mind!!

seventeen when their crush (who happens to be their best friend) is in a relationship!!!

pairing: svt x gn!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst, Simping, Yearning

other disclaimers/notes: lowercase intended; barely proofread because it's 4am!!!, i’ve been watching wayyyyy too many coming of age films lately lmao!!!

✩‧₊˚Cope (trying to be normal)

vernon: vernon rolls with the punches in most any circumstance, and this is no exception. like Yeah….this shit sucks….but you guys are best friends, so he has to deal with it. i don’t think this would affect him too much tbh,,,like i think the fact that he’s in love with you is something he rarely even admits to himself. i feel like he always has it in the back of his mind, but nothing more than that. i think he’d be able to ignore his feelings the most successfully out of all the members because vernon’s realistic with himself and he knows there’s no point in being hurt over something that’s out of his control. none of this stops him from loving you, but that’s something for him to know and you to never find out lol. seungkwan knows about vernon’s feelings btw. he (vernon) figures that if he had to tell anyone…it would be him, and for whatever reason, he felt compelled to tell at least one person about all of this. vernon doesn’t know why, but it feels better knowing that someone knows his true feelings, even if that someone isn’t, and probably can never be, you.

s.coups: you know that face he makes after the girl rejects him in mansae??? Yeah. Yeah that’s him at all times lmao. he cant say hes mad at anyone in this situation, except maybe the universe lmao. i think he just regards this whole situation has his life’s hugest bruh moment LOL. he’s gotten okay at pretending like everything’s fine when he’s around you, because in his mind, there’s nothing else he can do. there was no way he was going to end his friendship with you, but there was also no way he could confess his feelings to you. in private, he’s talked to some of the boys about it in private - mostly jeonghan and joshua, but sometimes when he’s feeling particularly frustrated with the situation, he goes to woozi, who is able to ground him every time he feels like he can’t take it anymore. seungcheol knows that to others, being friends with you while still being in love with you doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense; but if it meant you were still in his life to some capacity, that was all that mattered to him.

joshua: the definition of smiling thru the pain…like he’s literally katy perry They ask you how you sre and you just have to say that youre fine even though youre not fine like. i think more than anything, he’s not too torn up over this situation than he is irritated. the mention of your partner makes his eye twitch LMFAO. like when you come back from going on a trip with them, you start telling joshua about everything you did together and he’s like THAT’S SO COOL Y/N . I’M SO GLAD YOU GUYS HAD FUN. *eye twitch* LOL. tries his best not to go overboard with it or make it obvious that he’s being sarcastic - he’s aware enough to know that your happiness is important and that unless there’s a legit reason one day, he doesnt have any grounds for disliking your s/o too LOL. i think he’s probably overly cautious if you ever tell him that you and your s/o were having problems as well. like he would be try really hard to be neutral if you ever asked him for his opinion on a situation that happened between you and your partner. i think he would feel guilty about being your confidant while having these feelings for you,,as much as he wants to tell you to break up with them and be with him instead, he knows how terribly selfish of him it would be to put you in that situation. so, he endures it everyday.

dk: dude……HE IS ALSO SMILING THROUGH THE PAIN…..but like HES ALSO CRYING….SO BAD….like. he tries REALLY hard to keep everything lighthearted around you - any time the conversation gets even close to being serious, he always pivots to a different topic. some of the other boys can tell something’s the matter when he’s around you, but they can’t quite place what’s different about him. when he’s around you, he just seems ever-so-slightly…off. his smile is less bright, his jokes are a little less frequent, and he’s actually kind of quiet when people are around you two. it’s a weird sight to see, and dk knows this; he knows that others have noticed, but he’s trying as hard as he can to behave as naturally as he can around you. i think he’s one of the members that would be pretty broken up about the situation, similar to mingyu. i don;t see him being able to deal with something like this well. i think he definitely goes to the other boys for comfort about this, to the point where his feelings for you are kind of an open secret amongst them lmao. (except dino because seungkwan begged everyone not to tell him because he thinks dino would make it obvious that dk likes you so they leave him in the dark!!!) 

seungkwan: bruh seungkwan tries so hard to be normal around you but then he’ll text vernon “im third wheeling y/n again please kill me” in the same breath. sometimes when he’s falling asleep at night he’s just like god how did i end UP in this situation!!!!!  he’s more of the kind of person who’s pouty about it instead of sad about it. he just finds the situation annoying more than anything, and he wishes that you would just REALIZE HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU ALREADY!! but he’s alright with waiting it out. i think he’s one of the members who would be not very fond of your partner LMAO. every time they greet seungkwan he’s just like “oh hey -___- how are you -___-” and your partner is like babe how do i get seungkwan to like me and you’re like HAHA he’s just like that, he needs to warm up to you!! (seungkwan knows this is not the case with this specific person.) but yeah, i think seungkwan also holds out hope that one day the two of you will end up together. i don’t think he would go as far as to ruin your relationship or influence you to break up with your partner, but i think he would definitely confess if you ever became single again LOL. i think it would be a teary confession too, because he’s been bottling up all these feelings for a while.

✩‧₊˚depression.

chan: oh my lee chan…i think he would fucking die in this situation!!! it would just, Destroy him. and you could tell there was something seriously wrong…he just wasn’t his usual excited self anymore, and he was suddenly beginning to avoid you out of nowhere. dino doesn’t want to do this; he doesn't want to be anywhere but by your side, but that place isn’t for him anymore and he knows that all too well. i think he would be one of the only people who would actually confess his feelings at some point, regardless if you were in a relationship or not. i think one day he would reach his breaking point and ust blurt it out because he just can’t take it anymore. i think part of him, although he feels guilty for it, knows that telling you about it is the first step he needs to take for him personally to move on. the only thing that hurts him more than not being able to be your person is keeping a secret this huge from you.

jun: dude this is the cat version of a kicked puppy. like. jun is NOT ok…..and he’s not very good at hiding it i think. i think you’d be able to tell that something was wrong, but jun is terrified about talking about this with you, so you never really find out what’s bothering him. i dont think he’s one who would ever end up telling you about his feelings. in fact, he might be one of the only ones who lets your friendship naturally drift apart because of his feelings for you. it’s not that he doesnt want to be in your life, but he also wants to get over you more than anything. but i think it would be incredibly difficult for him to see you as just a friend tbh, so for as long as you’re dating your partner, i think he’d keep his distance sadly.

hoshi: the light in this man’s eyes have unironically left. like. the thought of hoshi being sad over you……..I CAN’T BEAR IT!!! yeah i think he would take this all pretty hard. though unlike jun, i don;t think hoshi would be able to stay away from you and keep his distance. you’re too precious of a person in his life, and not to say that you aren’t in other scenarios with other members, but i just see hoshi being firm about still being in your life. in fact, he’s one of the few guys that i think is secretly hopeful that one day down the road you’ll end up together. he doesn’t ever voice these feelings to anyone; he knows it’s ridiculous to feel this way about someone who’s already taken, and he feels that if he voices it to someone that he’s going to get bad karma, LMAO. should you ever become single again though is a different story though….

mingyu: for some reason have this vibe that being in this situation would literally destroy him and eat him alive…i just feel like he’s someone who truly loves really, really hard, and adding in the fact that you’re his best friend magnifies the pain by hundreds. what do you fucking do when the person you love most in this world doesn’t return your feelings? he would be really torn up about this because on one hand, he’s never felt this way about someone before, and he wants nothing more than to be with you; but what he wants more than that is for you to be happy, and if that isn’t with him, he has to accept that. sadly, i feel like at some point this would be too much for him,,,like to the point where he keeps his distance from you a bit. he feels awful, but it’s just too hard for him to hear about you and your partner and act like nothing’s wrong when you’re around :(

✩‧₊˚avoidant

woozi: i feel like he might be a little hot and cold about it. he is Not happy in this situation, and it frustrates him that he cant really do anything about it except deal. he doesn't really like talking about your s/o and he tries his best to hide it, but you can kinda tell that there's something wrong. but when you ask him about it, he says he's totally fine! i don't think woozi would dare to ever let his feelings for you come to light, and as unhappy as it makes him to not be honest with you, he just doesn't feel comfortable with telling someone he has feelings for them when said person is in a relationship. as little of a fan he is of your s/o, woozi knows that if he was in their shoes, he wouldn't be happy if someone confessed to you while the two of you were dating. i think he would need some distance to get over you, and i think the only way that it would happen is by throwing himself into his work and begrudgingly spending a LOT of his time with hoshi LMAO!!

minghao: would distance himself by making a bunch of life changes to keep him busy so he can eventually get over you. minghao values you too much, so he figures the best solution is to take time to himself so he can get over you in a healthy way with space from you. he isn’t happy about seeing you less, but he knows that it’s what needs to be done in order for him to heal from this situation. would definitely have a vague excuse ready if you ever asked him why he was distant from you; i cannot see any universe where minghao would ever admit he used to have feelings for you, even if it had been years past. he’s keeping this one in the vault LMAO, not even jun knows!!

wonwoo: bruh…..he’s. he’s in pain. but he’s keeping it all inside. i think he’d feel really selfish for harboring these feelings toward you while you’re dating someone else. your partner was perfectly friendly to wonwoo,,,like it makes him feel WORSE that he’s in love with you. he tries to forget his feelings, even getting into relationships once in a while, but everything always comes back to you. i feel like this is a secret he’s told absolutely NO ONE at all because of how much it weighs on his heart. the only soul who does know to some extent is mingyu, because he caught wonwoo crying one day when he came home early from work. wonwoo didn’t really get into the details, but he did admit that it he had unrequited feelings for someone. mingyu didn’t pry, and he still never has. 

jeonghan: there is Pain behind his eyes lol but he is keeping this secret in the Vault fr. Maybe, M a y b e s.coups MIGHT know, but that’s about it. jeonghan is one of the only people i can imagine is completely normal around you and no one can tell that there’s anything wrong. the only reason that seungcheol knows anything is because he knows jeonghan the best, and he could tell by the way that he hung onto your every word that he had feelings for you. but yeah, i think jeonghan would have the easiest time living with this secret from you. sometimes he does feel a little guilty, and honestly sometimes he does flirt with you lightly, but nothing to arouse any serious suspicion. mostly he’ll just say he likes your outfit or something when you’re hanging out, which is harmless in his mind. it does bother him that the person he’s in love with is dating someone else, but i think jeonghan would just be like “what else can i do at this point??” and continue with his life. not much changes between the two of you, besides jeonghan being a little more quiet when the topic of your relationship or partner comes up, but it’s not something you notice anyway. and such is life, whether jeonghan is truly okay with it or not.

[cherriegyuu]

[6:45] in this light

Seungcheol was quick to shut off the alarm, the last thing he wanted was for you to wake up before you needed to. If it were up to him, you’d spend the entire day just lounging in bed, taking a much needed rest. Since that wasn’t an option he would contempt himself with just holding you a little longer, hoping that was enough to give just a little comfort, just enough to make your day slightly not the worst yet. 

In fact, him waking up before you was part of his plan. Seungcheol was a greedy man. Even if he spent the entire night holding you in his arms, it wasn’t enough because he wasn’t awake. You see, it only counts if he’s awake for that. He sleeps better when you’re there with him, yes, but it only counts as cuddly hours if he’s awake. So he purposely set his alarm 15 minutes earlier, just so he could hold you for a little while. 

He was careful when laying back down, careful not to wake you up, knowing how much of a light sleeper you were. It was actually surprising that you didn’t wake up to the sound of the alarm. You turned into his arms, your face now tucked into his neck. Seungcheol smiled when you sighed, wrapping your arm around his waist.

It was times like that that he loved the most about his day, how he loved to start it. Like you, he had a shit day ahead of himself so he liked to make sure that he had a great start, so it could, maybe, just a little, postpone his misery. 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you know?”

Seungcheol could only close his eyes and smile at the sound of your voice, still sleep drunk, but alert enough to still make fun of him. 

“Sleep a little more” he kissed your forehead, his arms getting tighter around your body. 

“I have to get up” you groaned trying to force your body up but giving up the second you felt how cold it was.

“We still have a few more minutes” he assured you “I just wanted to stay like this for a few minutes before he have to face the world. 

You hummed against his skin, a small smile on your lips when you kissed his chest. 

“You’re brilliant”

He noticed as your breathing evened again, a clear sign that you had fallen asleep.

It was obvious that both of you would be late for work.

just a little something to celebrate his birthday

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

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[daechwitatamic]

What are the Vibes? || CSC

(banner and title by @sailorrhansol lol thanks bestie)

What are the Vibes? Seungcheol x afab!reader || pwp || established relationship kind of implied NSFW - minors DNI

wc: 1.2k warnings: language, kissing, fingering (f. receiving), vibrator use (f. receiving), piv sex, bossy seungcheol makes a frustrating rule in bed but it's all in fun

summary: Seungcheol always gives you what you need. Today, he's gonna make you ask for it first.

author's note: once every two years i blink and a pwp appears. this one is a gift to hali, who writes what i ask for every time and deserves to receive nice things too <3 the babygirl is just for you, babygirl. ily and thank you for typo check!!!! <3

Straight into smut, so putting the whole thing below a read more!

When Seungcheol presses your favorite purple vibrator against your already nearly-shaky fingers, your intuition sparks, warning you that you’re in for it. Maybe it isn’t intuition. Maybe you just know him - know what kind of mood he’s in from the set of his jaw and the flash in his eyes.

You’re already one round in; he’s already made you come on his fingers once and then again on his cock, your ankles on his shoulders. You were ready for him to come deep inside you, leaning over you far enough to make your hamstrings sting with the stretch, but he’d backed away, slipped out of you, left you whining and empty.

“You do it,” he tells you, as your fingers close around the silicone. “Give yourself one for me.”

He stretched out next to you, stroking himself lazily, like it didn’t bother him at all to stop in the middle. You’re caught for a second on all his rounded places - the swell of his shoulder, his biceps flexing as he works his cock slowly, the rise of his cheek with that smirk that means trouble, the ass that could launch a thousand ships.

“Go on,” he tells you, and you take a shuddering breath as your thumb finds the familiar button by muscle memory. The first setting barely registers - you’re already overstimulated and it just feels like the physical representation of noise when you’re going to need a melody if you’re going to come like this. But when you dip the fingers of your spare hand towards your opening, already sore in the best way and still messy and slick from earlier, Seungcheol’s hand whips out and grabs your wrist lightning-quick.

“Nope,” he murmurs darkly, rolling so he’s halfway over you. He releases your wrist and uses his new proximity to kiss you sweetly, lingering lovingly, at odds with his entire demeanor. When his lips leave yours, he whispers, “Outside only. Inside is mine.”

You let out a huff - part frustration, part amusement. But Seungcheol doesn’t often play games like this with you, and it’s thrilling in its novelty. You obey, sliding the toy closer to your clit, trying to work yourself back up slowly. Satisfied and trusting you to follow his rules - whims, really - Seungcheol moves back to his spot next to you, eyes combing over your prone body.

You try all your normal tricks, but long minutes pass and while it feels good you can tell it’s not climbing - the pleasure isn’t tightening or spooling or triggering that snap that you always know is a warning sign. You huff again, this time all frustration. It isn’t going to happen - not with only external stimulation.

“What is it?” Seungcheol asks, low, and there’s something teasing in it. It’s like he expected this, and now he’s pleased to be right.

“I can’t,” you complain. “I need…” You trail off, shy, even after all this time.

He knows what you need. He’s going to make you say it anyway. He waits you out, like a saint with all the patience in the world.

“Need you,” you try pitifully, hoping he’ll let you get away with it.

“I’m here,” he says innocently, and you make a noise of complaint, nudging at his shins with your toes in protest. His smile grows; he’s enjoying teasing you.

“You know what I mean,” you protest. The toy buzzes valiantly in your hand, but you’re barely even pressing it against yourself anymore - it isn’t doing much for you at this point. Your body knows what it wants. Nothing but Seungcheol will do.

“I guess if you want something, you’ll have to ask for it,” he pretends to muse, trying to fight off a satisfied smile.

You whine wordlessly, frustrated. “Seungcheol,” you scold.

His smile only grows, dimples deepening. “What do you need, babygirl?”

You want to stomp your feet and bang your fists in protest. “I need you, please, this isn’t enough - I’m not gonna -”

“What do you need?” he asks again. You nearly sob with frustration; it’s clear he won’t be giving you anything unless you ask.

Frustration and desperation dance together behind your ribs, and you hear yourself beg, “Anything, Cheol, even a finger, please - just something, I need you.”

This must be the magic phrase that Seungcheol needed to hear today, I need you, because his smile splits across his face. “Just a finger?” he teases, but he’s circling the tip of his pointer around your spasming hole and it’s already six billion times better than it was a second ago, your body responding with a hearty clench and a new rush of fluid. “That’s all you want? Are you sure?”

“I mean,” you gulp, trying to breathe at your body chases that tantalizing fingertip, hips canting like you might catch him off-guard and slip him inside, “That’s not all I want, but if that’s all you want to give me right now, then I’ll take it.”

He coos annoyingly, but rolls closer, pushing that single digit into your heat. It’s barely anything but your eyes nearly roll back just from sheer relief - this is what your body wanted, this is what it will take to push you over the edge.

“That’s not all I want to give you,” he promises, barely louder than a whisper, and then adds a second finger, wasting no time in curling them into that spot on your front wall that he knows so well.

It takes only seconds for your body to respond, clamping down on his fingers, the muddled buzzing from the vibrator suddenly coming into perfect focus - sharp and targeted. You hear yourself wail, but the room’s gone fuzzy as his fingers piston into the spot that keeps your muscles clenched for so long that you think you sail right past a first orgasm straight into a second one. You click off the vibrator and toss it to the side, reveling in the feel of his fingers stroking along your sensitive walls, pushing lightly against that spot that makes your toes curl.

Seungcheol whispers praises into your ear, fingers finally slowing, ending with a nearly-awed, “You just got so wet.”

You can feel it, inside and out, but the orgasm has chased away any shyness and now you can finally say what you mean:

“Hurry up,” you tell him, tugging at his arms to get him in motion faster. “Get up here and fuck me.”

He lets out a sound that’s partly a laugh and partly disbelief, but he doesn’t hesitate at all before rolling over top of you and pressing his tip against your entrance, pushing to the hilt slowly but without pause. When he bottoms out, a soft sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest, you clutch at him, holding tight to his shoulders, wanting to keep him here - right where you wanted him all along.

He nips at your jaw playfully before pulling nearly all the way out, then sheathing himself smoothly once again.

“Yes, please, just like that,” you breathe, eyes fluttering closed.

He gives you a devilish smile and repeats the motion. “All you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin.

--

thank you for reading!!

[seungkwanniee]

ANGELS STILL EXSIST?

pairings : barista!seungcheol x fem!reader

genre : angst with little fluff in it , strangers to acquaintances

warnings : mention of food , lonliness , agoraphobia (being scared of crowded place) , overthinking , anxiety / panic attack , reader being harsh to herself , struggle to breath , people making fun of reader , mention of bulimia ( not at all ) , tears , few swearing

wc: 1.8k

synopsis : s.o. just has a messed up mind, and Seungcheol is in the right spot in the right time

an : starting school in one day so manifesting that it will be not hard write trought the school year + changed my dividers because the previous ones were basic asf. My frist time writing a thing like that so yes i know this isn't the best 😭

〔 masterlist 〕

today was not your day but again, when it was ? At least, you got dropped earlier from work, so you just decided to make a quick stop to the near bar. You went here for like, 2 times? and it was long ago but you always overhear your coworkers talking about how they always try to make in time to eat ones of their breakfast. They must have gold hands then?

[5.17pm]

as you enter in the cozy bar, the little bell above the door makes everyone knows your presence. It wasn't that crowdy, fortunately. You just wanted to chill and eat as you were starving after your tiring work today. In you sight, you can only see an old couple ejoying their tea while behind the counter a young and lovely man raise his head as soon he hears the familiar sound

"what we order for you?" he asks when you stand up in front of him. His soft smile shows his single dimple and makes his eyes go so cutely tiny "a capuccino" you reply, completely forgotting about your hungry state "that's all?" he involountary remembers you that you haven't eat nothing for hours "oh, a brioche too" the guy behind the counter nods, inviting you to take a seat

and now, you get why they love this place. It wasn't for the food (well, also this) but you founded this so comfortable, maybe you liked it better than your home. From your house you can't eat a spetacular brioches, smell the good things that they prepare at the moment, you can't hear the sound of the laughter filling the athmosphere while watching the stunning sun setting down the flower sitting outside the bar. Your house was nothing compared to his: your cooking skill weren't this good, the smell was nothing but the atrocius gas coming from the cars running down the street. Your house was always so soundless, no laughter filling it, and from your window no sunset can be seen.

It wasn't a home, it was just an house, but you never really realized how sad and underwhelming it was.

Your thoughts got distracted from the same guy - Seungcheol, you can read from his tag now - serving you what you ordered, "eat well" his smile was always here, and you find it so cute but you wonder how many times he fakes it, what's under it. You just smile back at him, thanking him. Overall, they were so right about this place, its like entering in another world.

[2 days after]

you never liked waking up early, but what you were doing today? You just woke up 30 earlier than usual just to experience the same coziness before going to work. It was so additcing, not your fault

You get dressed in your usual clothes, swatpants and big coat because it was damn cold outside. Just the walk from your front door to your car, freezed your cheeks and nose making them slightly red. Maybe you were too sensitive, but anyway you rushed trowards the car door, making inside and putting on your playlist to wram you up. You hum along the songs, tapping your fingers on the wheel, involountary smiling as you know the warm and cozy place will confort you.

It wasn't like you expected tho, you widen your mouth when you see the amount of person entering and exting the bar. Even tought it was all cute, the big sign with the cutest writing and the colorfull flower standing outside, you didn't finded it cute anymore with all this people. You was so stupid, ofcurse it would be crowded if they are making the best breakfasts. Your soul was fighting inside: you were a grown woman, how you can't go inside a place only because people were in there. It sounded so redicolous to yourself, you can't even imagine what people would think. Otherwise, you wanted to taste another time the delicious brioche you eated only two days ago, it was so good that just thinking about it was making your mouth watering. You didn't even did breakfast at home for this reason, it was time to take aside your childish fears, no?

The cold weather hitted once again your cheeks, making you walk faster trowards the entrace and without even thinking about it, you were in. Maybe it was a bad choice as your legs were trembling under your warm sweatpants, but now you're here. You can't just walk outside againg, you would look dumb. What the other people would think of you? an odd weird kid. They would laugh while telling the not-so-funny story to ther friends, coworkers, family. And what if they recognize you in the street again? they would laugh right in your face for sure. What if, what if, wha-

"omg, y/n is here" the sound of a voice calling you out makes you raise your eyes from your shoes. You hide your head more into your scarf when the familiar faces are right in front you, and this makes you wish you never left your car or maybe your house. You awkwardly smile at their not welcomed figure, letting out an hand from your pocked to give the girls a little wave. You never get along your coworkers that much, you just ended up with no friends inside the place so they just makes little fun of you. Nothing you can't handle, it was common, but you being already overwhelmed because of the crowd inside of the place wasn't helping you at all. "what are you doing here? you eat for real?" you giggle with them, when they make fun of yourself, "it wasn't even funny" you wish you had the courage to say that, but in reality you just stand here while they makes fun of you. "make sure you don't throw up after eating, mh" the disgusting hand lands on you cheek, caressing it while her fake caring tone only makes you feel dizzy. Making fun of you just because you're skinnier than them wasn't funny.

You watch them walking away, well you can't properly do this. Your eyes were itching because of the tears wrapping them, and your head spinning wasn't helping at all. Your slightly trembing hands were making a pounch inside of your coat pockets because you were angry, sad, tired, defenceless and weak at the same time. The troath was now completely dry, you weren't even sure if you were able to speak to someone in few minutes, adding to your heavy chest. You were having a panic attack for sure. You went trought this many times before, so you should know how to deal with it, but it was like you can't even think straight right now, never wishing more to someone rescue you.

And it was like today the planets were all on your side, literally an angel falling from the sky. When you hear the soft voice speaking almost near to you ear, taking one of your arm walking you somewhere, you tought you was in heaven. 'This is real life or I just died?' were your exactly tought. "i'm sorry to bother you, I just saw what happened" the guy says, but it was like you weren't even listening him. "sit down" he places both hands on your shoulder, forcing you to take a sit in a place you never seen, but it seems more like the back of a local. "okay, kay, it's okay" probably he was looking at you with pity eyes, and it just sound so ridiculous. Your eyes weren't able to contain this amount of water, they just needed to escape somewhere. Your elaborated breath was making your chest havier and more painful, at the point that it started to be harder to breath by yourself. "gosh" he humble, Seungcheol was mad worried for you. It may sound weird but as an empathetic, yes, he was so worried about a stranger, half-stranger. He noticed you right away when you entered for the frist time to the bar, you looked so pretty in your big coat that was pratically eating you. It looked so obvious in your face your tiredness but in his eyes, you still looked so gorgeous. Something in you attracted him that he almost jumped from happiness when you appared again today. He was praying all day long hoping that you would show up so he could make a move and well, now he is making a move, not the one he expected tho.

"watch my breath, can you?" he kneels in front of you, his hand slipping down to your shaky arms and it may looks nothing, but his hands were bringing you the comfort you always wanted, not only when your mental health was messing with you. His brown eyes never leaving yours for a sec, piearcing right inside of you. "you need to match my breath, you can do it" his voice like honey for your hears, he wans't rushing you neither disrespecting your boundaries. Your heart was literally racing inside of you, and so many thoughts were going inside of your head. Why you weren't able to controll your attack today, you always deal with it but it was like you weren't in your body anymore. You was wondering why a stranger was helping you, there were still angels in this earth. What the fuck he was thinking of you, maybe you just looked so ugly, rediculus or like a kid. His bar was so full of people, he must be working right now but you were probably just a pain in the ass for him.

"stop thinking, focus on my breath" his hand moves on your chin now, slightly raising your head, while he gently caress your cold cheek. It didn't disgust you as before, his touch was gentle, almost scared of breaking you, that it brought a feeling of inexplicable calm. Your eyes glued on his lip, following his same peace.

"i'm so sorry" you take deep breaths when you were able to talk again without killing yourself for the lack of air. Now that you were able to think straight, the face of the guy seems so familiar to you. "for?" the guy tilt to one side his head, still kneeling in front of you while his hands lay on your knees. He looked so cute when his dimple shows, while his hair moves to his forehead because of the movement. Your hands were playing with each other, still feeling a little embarassed. Doing this, your eyes land on the tag attacked on his brown apron. "Seungcheol" it was supposted to be a thought, but it involountary slipped out of your mouth, "yeah, that's me. What's your name?" your cheeks turn red when you realize, making him giggle. Almost wishpering your name, you stand up from the chair, making Seungcheol standing up too. "you must be busy, i'm sorry that i bothered you. We can go back inside" you words were almost impossible to understand as your voice was so low and still a little cracked for the crying.

"don't worry, stay here, I can bring you something to eat" he invites you to take a sit again, but you were to stubborn. You already fucked up his schedule, you weren't bothering him any more. Plus, your work was waiting you soon. "Don't bother, go back to work. I have to go to mine soon" your still red eyes looked at him, and those were the things that weren't convincing him at all. "I insist, you must be hungry. I can take you to work if you want"

how angels can still exist?

[headlinerkwan]

idk if ur requests are open but i can't stop thinking about dog dad s.coups 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

snap shoot - c.sc

pairing: seungcheol x gn!reader

genre: dogdad!seungcheol, established relationship, pure fluff, one shot

summary: coming home after a long day of work to find your boyfriend in his peak dog dad form.

warnings: none (i think)

wc: 450

a/n: omg anon!! i love dog dad s.coups more than anything, thank you for the request! ᡣ𐭩

“Thanks for the ride!” you say to your colleague as he pulls up in front of your apartment building. You make sure to wait for the car to drive away before you let out a deep sigh, releasing all of the stress that had built up throughout the workday. It was almost 9:30pm by the time that you stepped out of the office. That was the worst part about being a translator, you had decided early on, time zones keeping you chained to your desk. 

It’s okay, you remind yourself, the work week is over and you’re finally able to shut off your brain.

“Cheol?” you call out once you open your door, dropping your keys on the kitchen island. There’s no response, you try again, “Seungcheollll?” you sing, wandering into the living room in search of your boyfriend. Nope, not in there. 

You’re exhausted, having given up hope of a hug from Seungcheol, you head into the bedroom, ready to crash. 

And… there he is… scrunched up on the floor…?

“Cheol? What on earth…” you say, truly puzzled by the man.

“I can’t get the right angle.” He replies through gritted teeth, moving slightly to reveal Kkuma, perfectly dolled up, sitting with her tongue flopped out of her mouth.

You laugh, the absurdity of the situation fascinating you. 

“Babe it’s not funny, look how cute she is!” 

“You’re right,” you respond, clearing your throat, “this is serious.” 

You crouch down behind Seungcheol, peering over his shoulder to get a good look at the camera’s viewfinder.

“Okay, left a bit,” you begin directing, “move down… okay right a smidge.” 

Perfect. 

“Don't. Move. A. Muscle.” 

“Kkuma! Look over here! That’s it, look at your Dad! Oh, so cute, good girl!” You begin cooing at Kkuma, directing her attention to the camera, as the shutter clicks repeatedly.

He looks at the camera, admiring his work.

“How is it?” you ask, your arms resting around him as you watch the dog from over his shoulder. 

‘Look!” He squeals, turning around to show you. 

The fast movement almost knocks you over but he’s quick to catch you, his face reddening with embarrassment. 

You laugh at his clumsiness as his arm wraps tightly around you, “I’m sorry” he whines dramatically. 

“I’ll guess… I’ll let it slide just this once.” you tease. 

He leans in closer, placing a tender kiss on your lips, and you melt like you always do. 

Breaking apart, you smile sweetly, “So… are you gonna show me the photos?”