#something something using the wrong process but getting the right answer

[anashins]

Too Hot for Snow

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader x Jaemin

Genre: angst, drama, romance, smut, love triangle

Word Count: 17k

Warnings: There are two smut scenes with the same mc, but nothing that really needs a tw. If you aren't here for him, you can skip them without missing out on anything tho! The other mc won't come short in terms of romance either, trust the process! But it's a bittersweet ending.

Summary: When your husband decides to file for divorce, you find yourself back in the arms of your first love. After all, things are different now and you're not kids anymore. But after a weekend lost in heavy snowfall and wishful dreams, you come to the painful realization that some people don't want to change, and others change too much.

A/N: I wrote this inspired by my own experience from a time where I had to decide between my situationship and now-bf. I thought I could pass this message on to ones who need this as well. Sometimes, we make the right decisions, sometimes the wrong ones. Sometimes, it's too late, sometimes it's not. (Also, I miss Jaehyun :( D-497)

Three years. That was how long your marriage had lasted.

“I want a divorce.”

These words shouldn’t surprise let alone hurt you - but they still did. After all, nothing could prepare you for the day your husband decided to divorce you.

You had talked about it before Jaehyun had moved out and mutually agreed on seriously thinking about an official separation while taking this six month break from each other. 

Yet, hearing this final decision out loud from your own husband’s lips made it real. And even though it had been foreseeable and up to a point even inevitable, you hadn’t been prepared for reality, for the fact that now, this was indeed real.

Your husband didn’t want to be married to you any longer. 

How was that even possible?

We walk down the aisle, thinking it will be forever. Donned in our white gown, the veil in our hair and the flower bouquet close to our chest, we are full of hope, light and love for the person who awaits us by the altar. 

“Till death do us part” is considered the love line of our lives as we all desire to vow it one day to our partner.

But thinking about it, it sounds morbid. We stand in front of witnesses and promise to the heavens that it will literally take a terminal illness, a fatal accident or another forced act of nature to tear this love apart. 

The painful truth is that it takes much, much less.

It often takes minimal profound, heroic and inspiring reasons for two married people to never look at each other again. Oftentimes, love doesn’t get torn apart by death. It gets torn apart by pent-up arguments, lack of commitment and the belief that everything you already own still isn’t enough.

“What about Kang Kang?”

Your throat was so dry, you didn’t even recognize your own voice, and Jaehyun ran his fingers through his hair. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were wrinkled, hair completely askew. 

There had been a time, back then in university, where on weekends, you both had looked like that, but for entirely different reasons. You were just staying at home, playing games and watching movies together. It had been the best and most carefree time of your lives. The strict business man Jaehyun had turned into throughout the years would have never left the house looking like this.

At this moment, you could see your past boyfriend in your husband again, who you had long deemed missing, and you wondered where you both had taken the wrong turn in your once fairytale-like relationship.

“He’s your dog on paper,” Jaehyun said nearly matter-of-factly. “You can keep Kang Kang.”

You bit into your bottom lip, so hard that you swore you could nearly taste something metallic. “Is this your final decision?”

In the break of the second that he needed to answer, you grew hopeful again. Hopeful that your husband would admit this decision was wrong, that he wanted to work on things for you two to be happy again.

Because this was the conclusion you had come to last night. You didn’t want a divorce, you didn’t want to give this all up. You wanted your little family, you wanted your husband and your dog, and children of your own in the future.

But instead, Jaehyun said with a tired, but determined voice,

“It’s my final decision.”

____

If Jaehyun were a season, he’d be summer. 

He was the feeling of getting woken up by sunshine tickling the tip of your nose. He was the salt on your skin when you emerged from the sea, the sand beneath your toes and the water dripping from your hair tips. He was the shade under a tree on sweltering days and flowers blooming in all colors.

He was everything good, fair and bright.

… Until summer vanished and you were left alone when seasons changed. It didn’t only become clear by change in weather, but also by the fact that Jaehyun had taken every last piece of himself out of your once shared apartment.

By the next week, he had officially filed for divorce. 

Summer had come to an end.

____

If Jaemin were a season, he’d be winter.

He was the feeling of thick sweaters when you got dressed on a cold day. He was the sound of snow crunching under your boots, the cup of hot chocolate you drank while watching the icebound lake. He was the snowstorm that came overnight and locked you in, causing chaos and destruction.

Jaemin was charming, tempting and dangerous.

But who, after a hot, sweltering summer, had never not anticipated a beautiful winter wonderland?

Luckily, winter came early that year.

____

“Why are you calling me at this hour?”

You stared at the skyline stretching in front of you. The few cars passing by were only recognizable by their headlights, but apart from that as well as a handful of windows reflecting some light in the building across from you, it was a quiet and dark night, the clock showing 3am.

“Why are you picking up?” you asked.

A light hearted laughter that made your heart jump followed. “I will always pick up when you call, you know that.”

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed by as you opened the balcony door and stepped outside, closing it again behind you. You turned your head to the sky and watched the moon, and you knew Jaemin was doing the same right now. 

“Did you already sign and send out the papers?” Jaemin questioned.

“Yes,” you answered, and as you spoke, you could see a small cloud forming in front of your face. “They are at my lawyer’s now to get checked. So perhaps, by next week, his lawyer will get them and send them out to him to sign too. Then, I’ll be a divorcée.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Why not?”

“It sounds like you’ll be a lonely, sad woman.”

“Well, if anything, I’ll be a lonely, sad dog-mom.” Your gaze wandered aside to the balcony door from where you could see Kang Kang sleeping peacefully on this dog bed in the very corner of the living room.

“You’re neither going to be a lonely, sad woman nor a lonely, sad dog-mom. You’re going to be free. You should be happy.”

“I can only be happy with you.”

Jaemin let out a chuckle that came in unison with a cool winter breeze grazing your skin, and only now you noticed how icy it actually was outside, only dressed in your pajamas and a bathrobe. But right now, you didn’t mind the cold. You only tried to remember the last time you had felt so… like Jaemin had said… happy. 

It had been half a year since Jaehyun had come to you to file for a divorce and already a full year since you had actually started living in separation. That was enough time to move forward when you had been long unhappy before.

You could finally quit pretending, quit fighting, quit caring. You had finally reconnected with the man you had always referred to as your first love, willing to start all over again with him.

Then why, when you looked at the night sky, the only thing your mind wandered back to was still the night Jaehyun had proposed to you?

Back then, he had just graduated from university and you had been working in your job for two years already. He had saved up all the money that he had earned while being enlisted to buy you the perfect engagement ring that was now kept hidden in your drawer along with the wedding band. A very beautiful ring that had once been a symbol for a very beautiful relationship.

His proposal had taken place under the night sky too, in privacy like you had wished for, with only the moon and stars as witnesses. It had hurt to look at the night sky for a very long time after your separation. But it didn’t anymore now, it was more of a nostalgic feeling.

As though Jaemin could read your thoughts, he said, “Don’t worry, when we get married, we don’t have to go through a divorce, I’ll get you an even more striking ring.”

“Stop joking.”

“I’m not joking,” he obliged. “I mean it.”

“Jaemin…” You swallowed, hard. “What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying,” you overheard him taking a deep breather, “if I had done things right the first time, we would have stayed together after high school and you would have gotten married to me instead, and you wouldn’t need to go through all this now.”

You both knew that this wasn’t true. 

There had been grave things that had led to the downfall of your first relationship and you into the arms of your soon-to-be ex-husband. Things that had been totally out of your might to control as you had been so young. But that was long in the past and you had both grown enough as people to pick up where you had left off and do it better this time. 

After all, Jaemin was your first love. That meant something, that was something special.

You sighed. “We were only kids. But now we’re adults. We now have the chance to do it better than back then, Jaemin, and that means to always be honest with each other.”

“I mean every word I said.”

You felt your heart turn heavy. “But for me, it means that I don’t think I will be ready to get married again in the next few years. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that.” His light-hearted laughter took the weight from your chest at an instant. That was what had always fascinated you about Jaemin. Everything seemed so easy and carefree with him. “I’ll wait. One year, two years, five years, ten years�� I’ll wait until you’re ready again.”

“Back then, you never wanted to get married and always dreamed about getting famous, moving to America....” You only then realized that it could be taken as an insult and wanted to correct yourself quickly, but he preempted, 

“Back then, I chose foolishness over commitment. But this time, I mean it and I will come get you next week.”

“Get me?” You raised a brow. “To where?”

“To Jeonju."

“To do what?”

“To be with me.”

“I can’t move to Jeonju so suddenly, Jaemin. I have a job here, my apartment, my dog, my family, especially my grandma…”

“Then only for the weekend. Bring Kang Kang with you. And the rest, we’ll figure it out together.”

Silence from your end, but he was being patient. “Do you mean it?”

“I mean it this time too. It’s been two weeks since we’ve last seen each other and we only met twice overall since back then. I know there is so much going on in your life right now, but I need more of you. And you could need a break from your daily life. So come to me.”

A romantic weekend in Jaemin’s home in Jeonju sounded exactly like what you needed right now. 

So you answered, “Okay, let’s do it.”

You were looking forward to winter.

____

The first family gathering without your husband took place two days later, the weekend before you planned on leaving for your short trip to Jeonju.

You had informed your mother about your separation two weeks after the official decision via a text message, very short and dry. You hadn’t wanted to speak to anyone as to why and when, ignoring all upcoming calls from every family member since the news had spread like wildfire. It had been hard enough the first time already when you had to explain why your husband had moved out. You couldn’t do this all over again.

Not because you were rude. But because you were still hurting and you feared that speaking about it stirred up feelings you had long locked up deep inside your heart. Only now, you were ready to face everyone again. Because half a year later, you were fine again.

Your big family adored Jaehyun so much, especially your grandmother, so you still met her with a heavy heart. To her, Jaehyun had been the perfect grandson-in-law, everything she had ever wished for you, and the feeling had been mutual since you had rarely seen your own relatives act with your grandmother as closely as Jaehyun had.

Whenever you had visited, he had brought her gifts, helped her with the chores and told her stories that made her laugh her heart out. Nobody else had done all this with such sincerity and continuity as Jaehyun, and it broke your heart to know that you had robbed her of this experience forever.

Your grandmother was celebrating her 80th birthday that Saturday, and with her declining health you didn’t know for how many more birthdays she could still be around, so you wanted to spend the remaining time with her, even if it was only you alone.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

You were sitting on the couch in her living room while everyone else was still dining, chatting and laughing.

“I think I’m doing quite fine.” 

“Are you sure?”

She reached out her weak, fragile hand and touched your cheek. You started to wonder when your grandmother had aged so much. The woman who had watched over you when you were still a child, had driven you to school, had made you food, and had let you spend the weekends with her. The one who had dried your tears when you had gotten your heart broken in school, who had picked up every single broken piece of you throughout the years.

She couldn’t do all that anymore, but she still could tell how you were feeling just by taking a brief look at you.

You couldn’t deceive your grandmother, so you just shrugged and her hand slipped from your cheek right into yours, squeezing it meekly. 

“It’s alright to still mourn him, sweetheart. If, at some point in your life, you realize that you have made the wrong decision, don’t hesitate for a single second and tell him.”

“What do you mean?”

You didn’t believe in the term ‘the one that got away’ which people would commonly use to describe a lost lover they were still thinking about all the time. You believed that you could grow to love someone just as much as you could grow to stop loving someone. If humans could never move on, how were they supposed to continue living?

“Your grandfather…” Around your grandmother’s thin lips played a mild smile that gave her face back something very youthful. “He was and will always be the love of my life. I married him young and I stayed loyal to him until he passed away. I loved him with my whole heart and he was the only person that had ever evoked such feelings inside of me.”

It tightened around your chest as it reminded you painfully of Jaehyun.

“But there was a time before our marriage,” your grandmother continued, and although the smile around her lips was still present, it wasn’t quite merry anymore, but rather pained, “where we were separated, because we didn’t know whether we should get married or not. There was still so much to see in the world, so many people to get to know. Why would we settle so early? So we decided we wouldn’t.”

“Grandma, you never told me that.” You squeezed her hand back to comfort her.

“I got back with my first ever love from when I was still a teenager. The timing was just right, we both seemed to have evolved so much. Maybe fate wanted us to take this path and meet again much later.”

Now, warmth grew in your heart as it reminded you of Jaemin. 

You had gotten to know each in the second year of high school when he transferred to your school, and the two years that followed was a whirlwind of ups and downs that, looking back at, you wouldn’t have wanted to miss a single second of. After all, it had forged you into the person you were now, and also into the one that had met Jaehyun and had now led you back to Jaemin. 

But you feared your story would separate from your grandmother’s at this point. “How did you then end up with grandpa?”

You now understood why your grandmother was wearing that expression. It wasn’t a fully happy core memory anymore, nor a completely sad one either. It was bittersweet. “It didn’t work out the second time around as well.”

“...May I ask why? You sounded so happy. What happened?” It wasn’t like you wanted to push her boundaries, you were genuinely curious as you secretly found yourself in a similar position now.

“When one day, I returned home, I encountered your grandfather by my house. Apparently, he had waited two days and nights for me and refused to leave unless I talked to him. So I did and he officially proposed. I wanted a week to think about this, and when I, following this event, wanted my first love to make a decision, he couldn’t.”

“He didn't want to marry you?”

“Even after all these years, he didn’t know whether he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. And I wanted a man that knew.” 

You inhaled deeply. “And you never went back to your first love.”

“I never went back to him,” she repeated. “Not because I didn’t love him, but because I knew your grandfather would show up in ways he could never. And that was what I wanted.”

You were asking yourself whether your grandmother told you this story on purpose. But then again, she never did anything without a purpose. She wanted you to learn something from it, and it actually hurt you quite a bit that she was questioning your decision.

“I don’t regret it. Do you regret it, grandma?”

“I don’t regret anything either, sweetheart, absolutely not.” You were worried that she might conceal the truth from you, but from her voice alone and the way her mien changed to the one she was always wearing when she talked lovingly about your grandfather, you were assured that she was being honest and always had been. “Sometimes, I still think about him and wonder where he is, what he’s doing if he’s still al-... And it’s normal. Sometimes, I wonder what if. But if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t have chosen differently.”

Your grandmother’s gaze wandered to the coffee table where you spotted something very familiar for the first time since you had arrived: a pink bouquet consisting of different summer flower arrangements. The one Jaehyun and you usually got together and brought over to your grandmother whenever you visited.

This time, you hadn’t had time to bring anything, and admittedly it had also slipped your mind completely. Yet, the very same bouquet was standing there on the coffee table.

“Jaehyun was here?” you breathed.

She nodded. “This morning.”

You weren't surprised. This was typical of Jaehyun. He always thought about others first, never missing an event, always reliant and considerate. With your own mind always wandering, you had very much relied on him and he had never complained about taking matters into his own hands.

“Grandma, I-” You didn’t know why your heart suddenly felt so heavy.

“I’m not telling you what to do, sweetheart. I’m just wondering if nowadays, before a couple decides to divorce, they have already given everything. There is a reason you were married in the first place. That’s all. That is something you should always think of.”

Yes, you had given everything, every day and minute of your marriage. 

When Jaehyun had stayed for work longer, then worked during the weekends and then rarely came home anymore. When you had started to feel lonely, not appreciated and unheard of your feelings. When, every time you had still seen each other, every minor thing led to an argument where one of you needed to leave the house. 

You had tried, over and over again. 

“I have given it my all, grandma. I have.”

“If you can confidently say that, then move on, sweetheart.”

____

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You followed Jaehyun into his new apartment, Kang Kang passing by you. He was jumping up and down, circling around Jaehyun like the happy labrador he was. As you had figured out, there were no dogs allowed in Jaemin’s apartment, so you had asked Jaehyun to take care of him this specific weekend.

You wondered whether it was selfish of you and quickly came to the conclusion that yes, it was, and cruel on top of that too. That was why you hid the truth from your soon-to-be ex-husband and had told him you had work in Jeonju this weekend and no other family could take Kang Kang. At least the latter was the truth as you had earnestly tried it everywhere before, but to no avail.

At least, you knew Kang Kang was in good hands, and he hadn’t seen his human dad in so long either. You put your dog’s belongings in the living room, which consisted of his bed, a few toys, his bowls and other necessities.

“Don’t you have to work this weekend, though?” you asked Jaehyun politely. 

You still didn’t know how to behave in front of him whenever you had to interact. This was actually the third time you met since your official separation half a year ago with the first two being the time he had to pack his stuff and move out completely. How did one interact with the person you were soon to be called ex-husband?

You were nervous and anxious, but also somehow happy to see him, because you hadn’t seen each other in three months. Jaehyun was still Jaehyun, he hadn’t changed. You wondered whether he was dating someone new now too, though.

“I actually requested time off this weekend when I knew Kang Kang would come,” he answered almost nonchalantly. “Do you want something to drink? I’m sorry, I only have water.”

You weren’t sure whether the water would help the lump that had built in your throat to disappear, so you declined. And just like that, Jaehyun had requested an entire weekend off when you had had begged him in the past to do so over and over again. You were hurt, once again, and it showed all over your face. 

“I’ve started a new job, actually,” he quickly explained, but you didn’t know whether it would make it all better, truth to be told. “Less salary, but since I’m living alone now, it’s fine. They still pay well enough and I have more time to myself.”

You deadpanned, “Good for you.”

It shouldn’t bother you anymore, it really shouldn’t. But you couldn’t shake off the fact that Jaehyun had changed his work and lifestyle almost so easily right after separating from you when he hadn’t been able to do exactly that while still with you. What had hindered him all this time?

Jaehyun, sensing already where this conversation would lead to since you had been there over and over again in the past, quickly changed the topic. “How is your grandma?” 

You unpacked Kang Kang’s stuff while he arranged the bed for him where he thought your dog would like it. 

“Quit playing, I know you visited her.”

He let out a shy laugh. “Did she tell you? I purposely told her not to.”

“She didn’t have to, really. I saw the flowers and knew immediately.”

You turned around to him, and even from the side, while he was kneeling down and petted Kang Kang, you perceived how shy he had gotten as his ears had turned slightly red. 

“I was worried about her since she hasn’t been feeling well these past months. So I wanted to check up on her. I didn’t want to break tradition, you know. Yet.”

“I know,” you admitted and quietly added, “Thank you for that.”

“I hope she’ll get better soon.”

He shifted in your direction and smiled, and this reaction made you longing for easier times where you didn't have to deal with the fact that this was the last time he had seen your grandmother.

Had you been too greedy, wanting too much that he hadn’t been willing to or couldn’t give yet? Had you pressured him too much and driven him away instead? Should you have been more patient with him and supported him, even though you hadn’t condoned any of his actions? Had it only been a rough patch and you would have come over it by now? 

Those were questions to which you would probably never get an answer. It was all too late now anyway. The papers were signed from your side.

“Jaehyun…” you whispered and wondered whether he had heard it as he suddenly interrupted you with,

“Ah, I’m sorry but you have to leave now.” He arose from the crouch and scratched the back of his head. “I actually have a visitor over the weekend and she’ll arrive soon.”

“She…?”

He nodded with a hint of reluctance.

You couldn’t explain why this revelation hurt almost just as much as the day Jaehyun had opened up about wanting a divorce. You were seeing someone else too, probably for longer than him, but you didn’t want him to be dating anyone else, giving her everything you had been asking of him for so long. 

You should be happy for him to have finally changed and wanting to make it better with the next woman he would grow to love. Yet, all you could think about was that he had never been able to give it to you.

You were so selfish.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly and grabbed your purse, moving to the entrance door. 

“Hey.” You heard footsteps, and before you could grab the handle, Jaehyun was already holding you back by your arm. “I’ve known you for too long to unsee the fact that you’re upset. And let me tell you, I understand why you’re angry.”

You lowered your head so that he couldn’t read your exact expression. But he didn’t need to. He never needed to. To him, you had always been an open book. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jaehyun…”

“You’re probably asking yourself why I couldn’t change my job to have more time for you too. Just like I’m asking myself why you couldn’t have been more independent and wouldn’t rely on me only. We’ve both come quite a way, haven't we?”

You took credit for the not independent enough part. After all, since freshman year, you’ve only had Jaehyun. He had been the center of your life, of your universe, and this view had shifted into a toxic direction you never wanted to look into again. You truly had turned codependent at some point, you owed that part. 

All that was left to do was not letting these negative traits affect your new relationships. That was a promise you didn’t only need to make to yourselves, but to your new partner, too.

“Do you think… Do you think we could have reached this point too if we had stayed together? This is what we have wanted, right?”

After all, it didn’t matter anymore. But you really wanted to hear this opinion, whether he thought the same. 

He admitted, “I don’t think we could have evolved like that if we had stayed together.”

“I think so too.” You shrugged off his grip and pulled down the door handle. 

“If you ever need something… I’m always here, okay? Call me, text me, no matter how late, I don’t care. I will always be here for you.”

After all, he was still so good, fair and bright.

It was unfair that you couldn’t offer the same kindness in return. Envy never looked good on anyone.

You switched to a cold business-tone. “My lawyer told me you received the papers already.”

“I did yesterday. I’ll sign them this weekend and pass them on on Monday.”

“See you on Sunday then when I come to pick up Kang Kang.”

And then, you left without another word.

____

“I have a gig tonight, but don’t worry, we can drop off your things first and head right there,” Jaemin declared. “I already told them to start the soundcheck without me.”

“Gig?” Jaemin had picked you up with his car from the train station and you were currently on your way to his house. “I thought we were going to spend the whole weekend… you know, at your place.”

“We will, we will!” he repeated and put his hand on your thigh while the other was still holding onto the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about that. It’s only tonight. Besides… you’ll get to know all my friends and bandmates too, so that’s gonna be fun!”

You should actually be excited about getting involved with his life right off the bat, but you couldn’t help but to feel more anxious about meeting new people when all you wanted to do was to spend a cozy weekend at Jaemin’s place, just the two of you. You wanted to take your sweet time, learning about each other, and only each other, again.

Jaemin had always been an extrovert while you were the complete opposite, and in all these years, this fact hadn’t seemed to have changed at all - just like him always forgetting how hard it was for you to come out of your shell. But you decided that you weren’t going to be hurt over this and see it as a compliment to get introduced to his friends and lifestyle so short into the relationship.

Perhaps, this was also a sign for you to break out of your shell that had only hardened throughout the years you had spent with Jaehyun as he was very similar to you. You couldn’t always live that way and accepted Jaemin offering to show you a new lifestyle.

“I’m looking forward to it!” you exclaimed and shifted your head back to the street, swallowing your anxiety and just hoping it wouldn’t resurface.

____

But it did later that night when you stood by the bar in that very small club, the crowd dancing and singing along to tunes you had never heard before, and you suddenly felt so alone and lost. 

Back in the days, Jaemin had also been in a band, just one of many self-formed ones in school, but his band had always been the most popular, because, well, he himself was so popular. And even now, he was remaining true to his image, flirting with the crowd through his mimicry and gestic, radiating a charisma that would have all girls on their knees in front of him if only he asked.

Since he was with you now though, you felt proud and a bit haughty that he was still so popular and you had him all to yourself. But also, on the other hand, you were questioning if the negative feelings from your teen years would resurface…

The irritation when he hadn’t looked at you even once during his performances. The doubts when he had always winked at another girl during his solos. The jealousy when he had eventually talked to said girls after his performances, treating you like air.

But this Jaemin… he was different. Just when he finished and you viciously feared that it all would be repeated again, he passed by the entire crowd, not sparing his female fans even a single glance, and walked straight up to you.

“How was I?” he asked with a beam and you fell happily into his arms.

“Amazing!”

He laughed. “I’m so happy you liked it! Here, let me introduce you to my bandmates.”

So many new faces, but you were feeling welcomed from the very first moment on. There was no need to be anxious about feeling left out and to be nervous about nobody wanting to talk to you. You were having so much fun and everyone wanted to talk to you, wanting to know more about Jaemin’s girlfriend.

You hadn’t known he had already introduced you as such and felt very honored.

“Let’s have a toast!” Jaemin then raised up his shot.

“This will be our fourth toast!” a band member pointed out. “What do we still have to celebrate?”

You felt Jaemin’s strong arm around your shoulder, claiming you in front of all his friends and his entire band. “We’re celebrating her divorce. I’ve waited many years for her to separate from her husband, and now I can have her all to myself, for my entire life!”

You blushed at his loud confession. That didn’t seem like your Jaemin who you had known for so long at all. He had always been openly flirty and charming, but love confessions were never really his thing. Until now, apparently.

“So you want to marry her and spend the rest of her life with her?” someone teased. “What happened to Jaemin and when do we get him back?”

You quickly shook your head and waved aside. “Please, he’s only joking!”

“I’m quite offended you think I’m joking!” Jaemin objected and turned to you to make the conversation more private. “I mean it. We will spend the rest of our lives together. No matter where.”

This had suddenly turned into such an intimate moment, and all of his band mates sensed it which was why they pretended to be occupied with each other.

“You can’t say things like that so casually here!” you chided. “You’re probably drunk.”

“I’m actually quite sober and can think straight, and these thoughts currently always lead me to one desire: I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if you marry me or not, I just want you to always be with me. We will make it work. With your job, your dog, and your family. Even if it means I will have to come to you and live in the capital.”

“The Jaemin back then wouldn’t have uttered these words at all. He was always talking about going to America, getting famous with his music…”

“Well, I can still go to America. But with you. And one day, when you decide that you’re ready, even if we’re old and grey, we can get married.”

He then kissed you, and you dared to daydream just a little bit. In one possible future, you actually saw yourself watching your husband, Jaemin, standing on the stage of a big stadium in America while the crowd cheered, but he only had eyes for you who stood in the first row. 

One faraway possible future, you didn’t dare to venture in further, because in this one, you were still married and it would take so, so much time until you could actually think of accepting a proposal ever again.

Forgotten was the toast still, and you and Jaemin called it an early night. You were surprised, because back in the days, he would have partied until the sun went up, and longer.

“I want to spend the remaining time with you,” he only said and led you out of the venue by your hand.

Maybe, just like you and Jaehyun, Jaemin had evolved too - to the man you had always needed him to be.

____

The next morning, it had started snowing.

The blanket slipped from your naked shoulder when you arose, the mattress giving in under you as a result of you bracing your hands against the surface. Jaemin was still sleeping soundly next to you. Of course, because a brief look at your phone told you that it was only 7am on a saturday.

Yet, you didn’t want to miss this beautiful, quiet hour and slipped out of the bed. Throwing on Jaemin’s t-shirt from the night before, you walked to the big window that offered a panoramic view of the landscape. 

There were only a handful of high rise buildings in his city and no skyscrapers were seen far and wide. The horizon was a bit cloudy, but the beautiful landscape was still recognizable through the falling snow. 

You had been to Jaemin’s hometown only once when you were together as teenagers. He had been sent to Seoul to attend a better school and eventually university, but had moved back after his degree.

You loved it here, it was the entire opposite of the bustling and ever lively capital. But living here, you wondered, would you get bored eventually? It was quite the contrary to your personality, but you had always enjoyed your environment being fast and never sleeping while you stood still. It gave you the feeling of never being alone while actually being alone.

A kiss on the back of your neck let you shudder, but in a good way. You giggled and turned around to Jaemin who had his arms wrapped around you now. His muscles were well-built and tense in your grip.

“Look Jaemin, it’s snowing!” you pointed out. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Mhhmm,” he muttered, but he didn’t look. “I know a more beautiful view, and it’s also in front of me.”

His voice sounded so sexy when he had just woken up. He embraced you tighter and kissed your temple. “You’re so charming as always.”

Jaemin chuckled. “Why are you up so early already?” he then asked you and gently rocked you in his arms. “You can still sleep.”

“I know, it’s just…” You shrugged. “I want to spend as much time with you here as possible.”

“Oh, does that mean I have to get up now too?” he seemingly wailed. “But what if I don’t want to get out of bed yet? Is there something we can do in bed together?” 

You didn’t need to be told twice, but let yourself get carried, with both of your legs hooked around his waist, back to the bed. Letting out a laugh, Jaemin threw you onto the mattress and then crawled on top of you. He was still naked from last night, his muscles flexing nicely in the dim morning light.

You stretched out your arms and placed them around his neck. Gently, you pulled him close to you so that your nose tips touched, and smiled. You wanted to stop time right here and now, and bathe in this intimate moment for a while longer.

Jaemin didn’t know the words ‘enjoy’ and ‘patience’ though as not much later, sweat droplets started to collect on his chest, making his skin glisten with every shift that he performed on top of you. Your breathing came in hitches and caught every time he pushed himself deeper into you.

“You like that?” he whispered into your ear, causing goose bumps to spread all along your neck.

“I lot…” A gasp passed your lips when his wet tongue licked your earlobe.

It had slipped your mind when you had last felt this deeply satisfied. What Jaemin was doing right now even topped the events from last night when you had returned to his apartment, even though you had thought that it was impossible to top that.

You stretched out your legs and placed them around Jaemin’s waist, pushing your hips up. 

“Hm?” He raised his head and locked eyes with you, revealing a sneaky smile that was accompanied by a cocked brow to emphasize his feigned surprise. “What’s that? You’re impatient already?”

“It’s you,” you said. “I just can’t get enough.”

Jaemin lowered his head again and started sucking on the side of your neck. You were sure you would be able to see a few faint bruises later on, but it was the time to wear scarves anyway and you wanted him to mark you in every way possible. 

Your fingers entangled in his soft hair that then slipped through the gaps between them, and after a few bypassing moments of absolute stillness from his side where you slowly grew even more impatient, Jaemin started to move inside of you again. 

When you were a teenager, you had lost your virginity to Jaemin after a few months of dating. He hadn’t been as insecure, nervous and awkward as you, because of course, the most popular boy from the band had already gained experience. And it seemed like he hadn’t lacked keeping to do so.

Or how else did he know to slip out with only the tip remaining so that you could quickly catch your breath, just to thrust back inside you with full force again? You couldn’t help but scream every time he penetrated that sweet spot, and he made sure to hit with every single motion.

The sheets grew wet under you as you were sweating so much, and in the peripheral of your blurry vision, you noticed that it had turned a bit lighter already in the apartment. God, for how long had this been going on, and how much more could you take?

You were already calling out, “Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin!”, mixed with dry screams that only grew more hoarsely, but you couldn’t seem to reach the anticipated release. Whenever you faced him, you only encountered his wicked, charming grin, and were assured that release was nowhere near yet.

Time and space blurred together for you and your mouth hung open, longing for air as he ripped you off it with his thrusts, again and again. The neverending string of a nearing orgasm was always graspable, but remained out of reach as each time, Jaemin took a brief pause by halting his motions and never pulling out entirely. 

“Please…”

You didn’t know why he was doing that or where he had even learned to be this skilful to drag it out for so long, and truth to be told, you also didn’t want to know. At this point, you were only worried that he was punishing you on purpose, for dumping him back in the days, and for letting him wait for so long. Fair enough, you accepted this kind of punishment over anything else. 

Jaemin drew his face close and licked over your dry lips. “I want to hear you beg.”

You didn’t care anymore at this point. You pressed him close to you, drawing your thighs even tighter around him. “Please, Jaemin!”

“Louder.” A low growl into your ear. But eventually, you felt him moving again.

“Please, Jaemin. PLEASE!”

“Louder!” he summoned.

“JAEMIN, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, I BEG YOU, PLEASE!”

The next moment, it felt like a wave came crashing down over you after trying to swim away from it all this time. It only took Jaemin two more skilled thrusts at the right angle until you let out a long-lasting scream that was on the brink of waking all the neighbors up, but you didn’t care.

You felt your insides clenching around him, your legs shaking in the aftermath while your fingers simultaneously dig deep into his skin as though you were holding onto a lifeline, nails grazing along his back and leaving long marks that would also be visible for quite a time.

Jaemin followed almost directly after you. He was gracious and quiet about it, but you knew him well enough to see that he was still enjoying it a little too much as he revealed himself by a low whimper that he tried to hide in the side of your neck, followed by a long sigh. His arms were shaking as he lost all strength and limply fell on top of you.

Your fingers were still on the back of his head, slowly stroking and comforting him while he was coming down from his heights. Your sweaty chest heaved up and down with Jaemin’s head on top of it.

For a moment, it was silent, only your regular breathing rhythms audible. 

In that moment, you wondered when you had last felt this happy.

____

“Are you with Jaemin this weekend?” 

Jaehyun’s anger was palpable through the phone. You moved away from the queue, signaling Jaemin that you had to take this call while he was lining up to buy you octopus skewers.

“Uh… I-”

Your still-husband had caught you red-handed and you didn’t know what to answer, because you hadn’t been prepared for this kind of situation. Only now, you realized that it would have been better to not have picked up the call at all when you had seen his name popping up on the display - ‘hubby’ and a heart. You still hadn’t brought yourself to change it to his government name.

“Answer me,” he demanded when your stuttering slowly grew uncomfortable and you settled for a quiet corner to talk to him.

“Jaehyun…”

“Someone sent me a video of his stories from last night and you were in it. I should have known the first thing you’d do would be running to him.”

How was that possible? You didn’t have mutual friends anymore from back then who would have cared enough as all contact had started to dwindle down at some point. And as far as you knew, these two had each other blocked everywhere. Unless they didn’t anymore and Jaehyun was lying to cover up that he had been digging.

“Jaehyun, that’s not fair at all.”

You heard a snort, followed by dead silence, but he didn’t hang up. “When did you want to tell me you were spending the weekend with my best friend?”

Dead silence again, but this time from your side of the line. Eventually, you reproached, “You haven’t been best friends for four years.”

“You told me you weren’t in contact anymore since he tried to creep back into your life even shortly after our marriage and I had to nearly physically fight him when he suddenly stood in front of our door.”

“We weren’t in contact!” you defended yourself. “But he had gotten wind of our separation and then hit me up again. Initially, it was just small talk, how I was doing and dealing with the situation. This is only the third time we've seen each other ever since. I really wasn’t in contact with him all this time, Jaehyun.”

“You never blocked his number or his socials as you had promised or otherwise, how could he have reached you?”

“I did! I told you I did, and I immediately did so back then! He contacted me from another number as he had changed his phone contract. I’ve never lied to you throughout our entire marriage! Don’t doubt me now just for me to fit your narrative, Jaehyun.”

“Hm.” He always let out this sound when he was at a loss for words, but didn’t want to drop the topic just yet. “I see.”

Somewhere in the background you heard Kang Kang and suddenly felt so guilty. Yet, you shrugged it off. You were too happy to get dragged down by his double standards right now. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about why I wanted to go to Jeonju. But honestly, Jaehyun, you also have a female over this weekend, don’t you?”

“I told you straight-forwardly. Also, she’s not an ex or your best friend, and certainly not my first love.”

He was right. The way you had handled this situation was certainly not pretty or fair at all. Why hadn’t you told him the moment you asked him to take care of Kang Kang? 

Perhaps, because Jaemin had always been a threat to your relationship, long before your marriage and after it too. And it had always been your fault, even though you had complied with Jaehyun's requests about blocking and deleting him.

Somehow though, whenever Jaemin wanted to find you, he always did. And he was lucky to now have found you at a time where you had wanted to be found as well.

“Jaehyun…”

He let out a long breather and you imagined him shaking his head at this very moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m calling. I just thought… It’s not even my right anymore to know who you’re with and what you’re doing, but… really, him out of all people?”

“Jaehyun…”

He hadn’t been in Jaemin’s band, but in the same class. You had always seen him around, but never interacted as you had rarely hung out with Jaemin’s friends. He hadn’t wanted that. And when you had finally had enough of his shenanigans after suffering in your on-off relationship for two years, you moved on in university - with your ex’s best friend who had happened to be the complete opposite, and everything you’d ever asked for.

In the beginning, you had tried to keep it a secret, but eventually came clean with Jaemin after a few months, who had reacted in a very mature way. Or so you had thought. You didn’t want to be friends with him as you rarely saw him anyway, but you let them be friends. Eventually, you warmed up to this new dynamic as Jaemin had once been a huge part of your life too. Nothing had seemed weird at first and Jaemin seemingly was okay with it. 

Until it all went downhill.

“Do you remember the day you told him we were engaged?” Jaehyun then asked.

Of course you remembered. Jaemin hadn’t let his true emotions slip, he hadn’t thrown a tantrum, he hadn’t said anything more than,

“Good luck. But you won’t be married for too long, because she’ll be mine again.”

And ever since then, best friends Jaehyun and Jaemin had never spoken a word to each other again.

It was eerie and sad how this prediction had eventually turned out to be true.

“I chose you, because you are kind, dedicated and warm, Jaehyun. Jaemin was fickle, unreliable and unfaithful, yes, but we were almost still kids! He’s changed.”

“That’s what you also said when I was in the army and he tried to test the waters with you again. That he’s changed, when you went back to him shortly. And look how that ended.”

“Are you bringing this up again? We were never involved in that sense again! You were in the boot camp and could only text me for one hour on the weekend, I felt lonely and we wanted to meet up as friends! I was young and stupid, how many times do you still want to hear it?”

“... And he never turned up.”

You bit into your lower lip. If you didn’t know it better, Jaehyun was hurt and jealous. But there was seriously no room for him to feel this way anymore. You were separated and it was only a matter of days until it was official. You didn’t even need to talk to him right now, but somehow, you also couldn’t bring yourself to just hang up.

“This time, he did turn up. Among many other things.” 

Only then did you realize that tears were pricking behind your eyes. In your peripheral, you could watch Jaemin ordering the skewers already, he was not supposed to see you cry.

“And you know that from a day of spending with him?”

“You know, I don’t have to justify myself in front of you, Jaehyun.”

‘If you still love me, then say it out loud!’ that was what you wanted to tell him. You wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him and ask him why he hadn’t told you so earlier. Why Jaemin had to come in between you again for him to finally open his mouth. 

At the other side of the line, it had suddenly turned quiet. 

“Are you sure about it?” you whispered into your phone. “About the divorce.”

“What is this about?” Jaehyun almost seemed angry now. “We’ve talked about it over and over again. This is for the best.”

“Then stop bothering me!”

Finally, you hung up and took a deep breather. Wiping a tear from your cheek with the back of your hand, you turned your head against the sky. It was still snowing, and the flakes melted immediately on your hot cheeks.

“Everything alright?” Jaemin asked when he had reached you. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head and accepted the skewer he was holding out to you. “No, nothing. Let’s go.”

____

Jaemin rolled his head back, his mouth falling agape.

“Yes, just like that.”

You felt his fingertips grazing over the back of your head, and then, with a firm tug, he had your hair between his fingers, tightly pulling on it. You swallowed a pained squeal, but the discomfort passed quickly as you realized it even added up to the sensation of sucking Jaemin off.

You let it slip past your mouth, only trapping the upper part between your lips, and then halted. With the tip of your tongue, you pressed down into the slit where you already tasted his sticky precum. You smiled when you heard him groan.

This time though, Jaemin didn’t let you get away with teasing him so easily. He pushed your head down his length, and as you didn’t have time to prepare yourself for this sudden action, you almost choked at him hitting the back of your throat. 

You weren’t trained in deep throating at all, the only time you had tried, you had wanted to gag so badly. Even now, it wasn’t really a cakewalk for you to suppress the reflex. But as you turned your gaze up and caught Jaemin stretched out gloriously on the couch, enjoying it with angelic moans, you gladly complied, no matter the circumstances.

Jaemin set the rhythm with his fingers still entwined in your hair. He pulled on your strands and lifted your head up his length just to slam you all the way down again until you nearly met his pelvis with your lips. It took you three tries to get rid of the gag reflex and another two to adjust to this submissive act.

“Now, suck it.”

You happily did so as it meant having a break from the excessive motions earlier, and only dedicated yourself to the upper half, sucking him off like a lollipop. You also used your tongue with which you teased him again by letting it glide over the smoothest part, just passing the frenulum. The sound he let out as a result was the loudest you had ever heard pass his lips during an intimate act.

“What was that?” he asked almost breathlessly, and looked down at you.

“You like it?” you wanted to know shyly.

“I love it!” he exclaimed and laughed. “Do it again!”

You felt Jaemin releasing himself into your mouth without a warning not much later, though you felt it pumping past your circled lips. Patiently, you waited until he was done and only let him slip out of your mouth then, falling back into a crouch and wiping over your stained mouth.

With a smirk, Jaemin patted the top of your head, then dropped his hand and angled your chin with his index finger. You faced each other, and you observed his expression changing.

“Now, your turn?” he asked with a bit of danger in his voice.

You swallowed, but didn’t hold him back. You were in for a wild ride.

That was until Jaemin’s phone rang and he needed to interrupt your act. You wanted him to ignore it, but he had already told you beforehand that he was expecting an important call. Just talk about timing…

You wondered what it could be about when you arose after Jaemin had left the room to go to another and take the call. It was kind of a long conversation as you only remembered how you went on to lie in bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phone and losing track of time. The next moment, when Jaemin came out again, it was already dark.

You were standing by the window now, the snow still hadn’t stopped falling. As a matter of fact, it was snowing even harder, and you wondered whether by tomorrow morning, the snow would have put a white blanket over the whole country.

“What happened?” you asked, unsure what to read out of Jaemin’s undefined expression.

That was until he broke out into a beam, closed the short distance between you and swept you off your feet. He had his hands placed under your ribs and swung you around with your feet dangling above the floor. 

You laughed and asked, after he had placed you down again, “Will you tell me what happened now?”

“Great news!” Jaemin declared with your hands remaining in his. “That was a producer who’s called me. I’ve been sending demos to different companies for years now, and finally this one is interested in my music! The producer wants to meet me tomorrow, isn’t it great?!”

“Oh, Jaemin! That’s amazing to hear!”

“I know, right?I have to prepare a few things for tomorrow since I have to drive to Gwangju where the company is located, do you mind?” He suddenly drew his brows together and looked very concerned. “I know we had dinner plans, but…”

You immediately shook your head. Of course, disappointment sank into your stomach as you had especially looked forward to this fancy dinner with him. It was your last night together as you were supposed to go home the next day, but another part, a bigger part, didn’t want to be so selfish. She knew that music had always been Jaemin’s dream, and if he could make it his main occupation, who were you to stop him?

“I’m gonna make up for it!” he immediately apologized, led your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. “Tomorrow, fancy brunch or lunch before you leave?”

You nodded, very well aware of the fact that knowing Jaemin for the passionate man that he was, neither brunch or lunch would take place tomorrow. Somehow, it was all high school again, but you were more mature now and there was no room for your own, selfish needs.

Jaemin let go of you and dedicated himself to his music station where he gathered together a few documents. “Imagine,” he then summoned, “if it’s really going to work out and I am really going to be big with my band, we could play so many shows or even do a tour - maybe internationally too! And I would take you with me of course! To America!”

“Jaemin, I have a dog to take care of and a job I’m really dedicated to, you know that. I cannot be on the road for months.” Had he forgotten the words from last night where he had offered to move to the capital for you? Had your wants been overshadowed by his daydreams once again like back in the days?

“Oh yeah…” He scratched the back of his head, but then beamed again. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a solution!”

Again, he was proposing something so far off into the future without asking what you wanted. Aside from the fact that you liked living a domestic life with a stable job and a routine, you didn’t want to be separated from your dog. Or your family, especially your grandmother yet.

And that was what Jaemin didn’t get… again. Just like the fact that you couldn’t think of another marriage already when you were still with one foot inside your current one.

He was impulsive, dreamy and so demanding. But this was what you had wanted, right? Someone to take things into his own hands and consider you in his future, whether you fit in or not.

“Yes, we’ll find a solution,” you eventually replied as he was expecting an answer. And who knew, perhaps you would really find one.

Jaemin turned back to this work and rambled on about how great of a life you two would have together.

Would you, though?

Your current life as it was, was already perfect for you. Just the man in it hadn’t been.

____

With shaking hands, you swiped over your phone screen until, from your blurry vision, you finally saw your husband’s name pop up. Hubby and a heart next to it. You still hadn’t changed it, and for now, you were glad for that as it had made finding his contact easier.

It was only 7am on a sunday, but you knew Jaehyun would pick up no matter how early or late, no matter what, regardless of your dispute from the day before. He had promised.

“Grandmother is in the hospital,” you cried into the phone the moment the ringing stopped. “And I- I can’t go back. I-I don’t have a car and I’m in J-Jeonju, the trains are not running because of the heavy snowfall and I don’t know how to get back, how to get to my grandmother. Jaehyun… C-can you-”

It was rustling on the other line and from your peripheral, you could see Jaemin watching you with a displeased face. 

No questions asked. Jaehyun’s voice was still so deep and raspy as you had just woken him up, but his head was as clear as ever. “Send me the address, I’ll take the car and come pick you up.”

“Th-there is snow everywhere! It’ll probably take hours.”

He didn’t ask why Jaemin wouldn’t drive you or why Jaehyun himself should do this even though you were separated. At this moment, none of this mattered except the fact that he needed to bring you to your grandmother. 

“I don’t care.” There was some noise on his end of the line, and you could have sworn you also heard a female whispering something, but none of this mattered. “I’ll get going now and will text you the estimated arrival time.”

He didn’t care about the weather, the amounts of snow blocking the streets, whether he would even get through the traffic, none of this mattered.

“Thank you,” you whispered through your sobs.

It was like he still wanted to say something, but only brought himself to end the call with, “See you.”

Jaemin waited for you to finish typing the address for Jaehyun first before he spoke up. “I wish I could change things.”

“You can!” you yelled at him, having suppressed your anger for an hour already.

At 6am, you had been unexpectedly awakened by a call from your mother that held unfortunate news you never wished upon anyone to ever receive: Your grandmother was in the hospital as she had fallen in the bathroom that night and had been unconscious for a few hours before she could call anyone for help.

And Jaemin’s reaction? 

He fell into silence again.

“You can change things, but you don’t want to,” you repeated through tears and fled out of the bed as you couldn’t physically bear being close to him anymore.

“That’s not it…” His feeble attempts to defend himself were all to no avail as expected. “It’s just a once in a lifetime chance, if I need to cancel, I might not be able to…”

“My grandmother can also live just this lifetime! I only have her for one lifetime,” you hissed, not sparing him a single glance as you started to throw your belongings into your bag. “She’s fighting for her life in the hospital and you think your music appointment is more important than driving me there? It’s only in the evening, and you’re worried you won’t make it back to your appointment on time, because of the snow?”

“We called your parents and the hospital already.” His voice got louder, more determined now, though it was nothing compared to yours. “She’s fine. You can probably take the train by midday, maybe even forenoon, anyway. I’m just being realistic.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you? Probably because no one has ever been this important to you.”

The moment you had spoken the words out loud, you already regretted it, but an apology refused to pass your lips as Jaemin only said,

“You are this important to me.”

“I don’t believe you as you cannot even do this for me.”

His music was more important, his career and everything connected to it. It would always, always come first, and this was something that was never going to change, and had never changed, you saw it clearly now. 

Your relationship in your adulthood was merely a projection of what it had already been in high school.

Nothing had changed.

____

Jaehyun picked you up from a nearby café four hours later. 

You had directly left Jaemin’s apartment the moment you had gathered all your belongings and hadn’t looked back - neither had he. He hadn’t changed his mind about the situation and he hadn’t tried to hold you back, no matter how much you had wished for it. 

You were standing in front of the café, still in your joggers and with tousled hair, freezing to your bones as the snow touched your naked ankles, but at least Jaehyun was here, regardless of the weather, his appointments and the time.

He was here.

He had always been here. 

You had just been too blind to see it.

The moment he opened the car door at your side, you broke out into tears again, unable to move, and it caused him to actually get out of the car himself to then approach you. 

Suddenly, it got so warm around you despite the weather, and even with your teary eyes closed you realized that Jaehyun had pulled you into an embrace. With his slender fingers, he brushed over the back of your head in a comforting gesture as you sobbed into his jacket.

“Your grandmother will be fine,” he whispered into your hair, unaware of the fact that you were currently not crying over your grandmother anymore, but over the fact that he was here regardless of how ridiculous it might sound.

He had made it through the snow chaos and traffic just to bring you home safely. If this wasn’t what your marriage vows had been about, then what was? Was that what your grandmother had been talking about?

You had two hours to think about it as you made your way back to the capital. There were many things you wanted to ask Jaehyun. How serious it was with that woman, if she was mad he had suddenly left her for his soon-to-be ex-wife and if he himself was mad that he was here now. But first and foremost…

“Why did you come?”

“I told you, you could always call me. No matter how late… or early in this case, I’ll always be there. Despite that, I care about your grandmother and your entire family, too. For a large part of my life, they were also my family.”

“They will always be, Jaehyun.”

“I know.”

His gaze was too focused on the street ahead of you as though it was taking him everything in his might to just keep his eyes averted from you. The majority of the snow had been cleared from the streets already so that cars could drive without many obstacles again. 

“Are you sure about it?” you repeated from your disrupted phone call the day before. “Are you sure about the divorce?”

“Why does it matter?” he asked back strictly. “Haven’t you moved on with my former best friend already, this time for good, because he’s changed so much?”

“That’s not an answer, Jaehyun.”

You had no reason to feel so attacked, but it still hurt, because he was wrong, even though Jaehyun didn’t know it yet. Jaemin hadn’t changed at all, and you were too proud to admit it. Perhaps though, you had overreacted as well. Perhaps, everything would have gone so well if only you had been calmer and more rational, and had actually listened to Jaemin. Perhaps, you had done Jaemin so wrong. 

But Jaehyun was now in the car, driving you back home, and not Jaemin, right? Jaehyun was here, and not Jaemin.

“On the way to Jeonju,” he started, “I had a few hours to think about everything. Have we given it all? Was a divorce really our last solution? What could I have done differently, what could you have differently for us to avoid this outcome. And I just… couldn’t come up with an answer. 

“Which means, on the contrary, perhaps a divorce was not a solution either,” you concluded. “But we’ve lived in separation for half a year at that point, Jaehyun. And we were fine with it. We’ve had many talks, so why are we here, ripping open this wound again? What’s the purpose? I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that it only took one weekend for us to doubt this decision.”

“Perhaps, there is none,” he said, and shrugged. “Perhaps, it’s all about what makes us happy, after all. And finding out you lied to me and spent the weekend with him, didn’t make me happy at all.”

Now that he was so honest with you, you could be honest with him too. “I also wasn’t happy when you told me you would get a female visitor this weekend.”

A long pause followed the conversation before you confessed,

“But you picking up the phone and being here with me now, makes me really happy.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “I’m also happy you called me and didn’t rely on him.”

He didn’t ask what exactly had happened with Jaemin, and you also didn’t ask him about the other woman when you arrived at his empty home much later that day to pick up your dog after having visited your grandmother together first. 

She didn’t get hurt except for a bruise by her hip and would be fine after being taken care of in the hospital for a few days. You visited her every day for one week straight, but on neither of these days did you see Jaehyun or Jaemin.

The fact that you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you were too caught up with everything going on at this point that you couldn't waste too many unnecessary thoughts in their behaviors.

____

A week later, you and your mother returned home with your grandma. Despite her refusing your offer, you had still insisted on taking one week off from work and living with her, just in case something could happen again and until she regained her health. 

Nevertheless, you as a family had all agreed on hiring a caretaker that would look after her half a day and who would start right after your week off with her. After a few attempted protests from your grandma’s side though, she had eventually given in as well.

“Where’s all the food I requested?” you asked in astonishment as you opened shelf after shelf in your grandmother’s kitchen, but each of them you found empty. “Didn’t father and uncle do grocery shopping? I made an entire list for them and they knew she’d return today.”

“Oh, they were busy last night,” your mother explained after she had taken your grandmother to her bedroom. “They’ll do it later today.”

You rolled your eyes as you tried to fight the wave of reproach against your family. “Busy with watching football all night long probably. What did they think would happen when we came back home with grandmother? There are no ingredients to make food for her and when I looked into the bathroom, she had also run out of toilet paper. What were they thin-”

“Honey…” Your mom placed her hands on your shoulders to calm you down, but somehow, her not getting as heated up as you was making you even more disappointed. Were you the only one who cared? “Please be reassured that everything is going to be fine.”

“How?” you asked back, a tinge of anger in your voice. “We come back and the sheets are not washed, we have nothing we can make food of for her and we cannot even-”

Your mom exhaled deeply as she tried to convince you again, “Let’s just order the most important necessities online, okay? Then your father and uncle will bring the rest later today, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Sweetheart, will you come here, please?” you heard your grandmother suddenly disrupt your conversation. 

You let out a long sigh, threw another glare at your mom and then left for the bedroom.

“I’m sorry, grandma,” you apologized as you popped into her bedroom with your head first. “I will go to the store right now to bring you the necessities. You don’t need to worry about this, please relax.”

“I do not worry about this,��� she reassured you. “I feel so fine here. And you do not need to worry that much either, it’s all going to be fine.”

“No,” you cried out and shook your head, tears welling up on the brim of your eyes. All your feelings came crashing down on you at once, feelings that you had tried to push aside for an entire week. “Nothing is ever going to be fine again!”

You sat down by her bedside and dropped your head. Her soft, warm hand found your fingers and gave them a comforting squeeze. “Is this about your husband?”

“Yes,” you admitted, and ‘no’ you wanted to say simultaneously as this wasn’t about your husband alone. Perhaps, now ex-husband on official papers even. “Why did he never show up again after going to the hospital with me the first day? I thought… he still cared, not only about me, but about you too. I’m so disappointed. I thought he was different.”

The last sentence was dedicated to both of them, though you confessed silently to yourself that you had never expected this from Jaehyun, out of the two. 

“But dear… he did come.”

You lifted your head and wiped away a tear that had dangled on the corner of your eye as you faced your grandmother with much surprise. “What are you saying, grandma?”

“He came every single day in the morning before work, we talked for half an hour when I was awake. I thought you knew?”

You had no idea, and looking at your grandma now, who was grinning widely and also a bit sneakily, made you assume that perhaps, she had kept it a secret on purpose - because the effect, when you found out, would be so much more impactful.

And it was.

“Grandma, I had no idea…”

“That’s why I asked you, before you decided to separate, did you really give it your all and tried everything possible to fix your marriage before moving on? Because, as far as I can see, you’re not the only one not ready to do so entirely.”

“I… I can’t say. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter anymore, grandma,” you eventually said. “Even if we both wanted it, it’s too late. He has probably already signed the papers and sent them out.”

“Fine. But don’t forget my words. If, at some point in your life, you realize that you have made the wrong decision, don’t hesitate for a single second and tell him.” She leaned back into the pillows. “It’s almost afternoon, I want to sleep. Can you close the door behind you then, dear?”

“Of course.” You gave her a kiss on the forehead and quietly walked out of her room.

Back in the kitchen, you saw your mom sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone. Why was she not up and about yet to do some grocery shopping or at least call your father to do the trip? You were fed up by now, fueled by your grandmother’s words too.

“Mom, I’m going to the store and I’ll take your car.”

“Okay.”

That was it. You knew she had had a lot on her plate too, but why did everyone not take this situation seriously enough? 

When you put on your jacket as it was freezing outside, you wondered whether you were overreacting and just putting all your time and energy into this situation, moving here and taking care of things, just so you didn’t need to think about how your own life was falling apart. As long as you could take care of someone else, you didn’t need to face your own problems. Hadn’t this been the root of your downfall as well?

After all, when you returned home after this week, you would get a call from your lawyer to confirm that the divorce was through. You had specifically requested for him not to call while you were here.

What then, after that? Then, you were a divorced woman, and you weren’t ready to settle with this term yet.

“Careful!”

You nearly ran into a tall figure when you opened the entrance door. A familiar scent touched your nose, strong hands holding you by your arms so that you could keep your balance after the impact. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked Jaehyun as your gaze simultaneously scanned his appearance, and you spotted two big bags of groceries to either of his sides on the floor. 

“I thought since your grandmother would come home today, you would need a helping hand,” he stated and pointed at the grocery bags. You saw toilet paper, rice, water, and other necessities peeking out. “I didn’t know what to buy, so I just brought a bit of everything. Is that… okay?”

You couldn’t help yourself but fell into his arms, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulder, and suddenly, this entire situation didn’t seem so difficult and hopeless anymore.

You had felt so left alone, like you had overreacted and that your feelings weren’t valid. But now your husband was here, having shown up in ways nobody else was. Your feelings were valid, they had always been to him.

Perhaps, your grandmother had been right all along. 

No, you hadn’t tried everything possible, because this clearance came way too late now, and you couldn’t apologize anymore for sometimes being a selfish, spoiled brat that had demanded much more from her husband than he was able to give. And always, you had wanted more and more.

Your views on life and the way you wanted to live it had started to take separate roads and you had thought this was not fixable anymore, but was that really what mattered after all?

It wasn’t about who was there for you all the time. Your problems couldn’t have been solved in that way either. That was why it couldn’t have worked out with Jaemin too. It wasn’t about this at all.

It was about who showed up during the times you truly needed someone. And it was always Jaehyun. When you needed support, a helping hand or someone to call during an emergency, he had always been there.

If you needed someone at all times, it could be anyone. But if you needed someone when times were hard, it was Jaehyun.

It had always been Jaehyun. 

“Your grandma is going to be fine,” Jaehyun whispered and gently patted the back of your head.

But you weren’t crying over your grandmother anymore, but about your failed marriage.

Because yes, you regretted it deeply and had not given it your all.

Because now, it was too late.

Neither of you spoke about the divorce papers that day.

____

Jaehyun didn’t come over anymore and neither did you reach out to him during the week you lived with your grandmother. 

You were determined to make it on your own from then on. Very soon, you were an official divorcée and single dog mom, so it was better to start early with this new lifestyle. Knowing you too well, Jaehyun might have already sensed it as he was leaving you completely alone during that time.

You brought Kang Kang with you to live and thus your days started with walking your dog before helping your grandmother get ready and preparing breakfast that you eventually ate together just like the other meals. Even though your grandmother was still able to do most things by herself, you noticed how slower, shakier and sometimes disoriented she had become. 

Time was not stopping, for nobody.

During the day you were occupied with doing chores, taking care of paperwork as well as your grandmother and Kang Kang. At the end of each day, you fell into your bed, absolutely exhausted and tired. Your mind was always occupied as well and there was no space for other things except for those brief moments during nighttime when you were alone and neither busy in a physical way or in your mind.

Then, you stared at the ceiling and wept.

Because you missed Jaehyun so badly and wished for him to be with you. You would have done anything for him to be here right now, but your marriage was over and you needed to move on without him. 

Everyday with this realization was hard, but luckily, no day grew harder than the day before. Eventually, they would only grow brighter.

That was your silver lining. 

____

Realizing that you wanted to be with Jaehyun after all, meant in retrospect that you couldn’t be with Jaemin. And just because you couldn’t be with Jaehyun, didn’t mean you should be with Jaemin. That was not how it worked, unfortunately.

“Hey, it’s me,” you spoke on the phone, watching the skyline from your window the first night you had returned to your home. 

He had promised to always pick up when you called, but this time, he hadn’t. You were struggling to come to terms with the fact that he indeed didn’t want to be reached by you either this time. Perhaps, not anymore at all.

You remembered why you had married Jaehyun.

You had married him, because he took care of the people he loved, because he made things seem more bearable when they weren’t and because when he said he would pick up whenever you called, he actually did. That was not a void Jaemin could just fill.

You would always search for a Jaehyun in his eyes, and that was not fair, because he was not. He was Jaemin, an entirely different person. And there was a person out there that would be perfect for him, too.

“I just wanted to tell you that this is the last time you will ever hear from me.” Softly, Kang Kang was snoring in the corner, filling the pause that then followed.

Maturing was realizing that just because you wanted to be with someone, you shouldn’t be with them. Maturing was realizing that only because you didn’t want to be alone, you should be with someone. Maturing was realizing that even on the third try, some people still weren’t meant to be together.

Tears sprang from your eyes, but your voice gave no hint of it. “Truth to be told, I am very disappointed that you never showed up again… called me, or at least sent a message, asked me how we are. It was a very hard time for me and you just… weren’t there.”

But someone else had been. You dried your cheeks with the back of your hand. 

“Yes, I could have messaged or called you too… but why should I have when I was the one suffering? Admittedly, I also didn’t need to. I handled it all myself very well. That made me realize… I wanted this, Jaemin. I wanted this so much, with you. But I didn’t need it. I don’t need you. And the past weeks made me realize that you feel the same. You don’t need me either.”

You could live without Jaehyun and you could live without Jaemin, you just had to be strong enough to make it on your own now that you had neither. 

And you would make it on your own. 

You had the drive, passion and strength all within you, you just had failed to notice for so long. After all, you had been able to take care of your grandmother, dog and everyone around you for the past weeks. So taking care of yourself wouldn’t be harder than that.

Had you broken down and experienced weak moments? Yes, several times. But that had only made you stronger.

“I’m strong and not afraid, I will always make it on my own. And you will make it too. Go out into the world, perhaps even travel to America where you always wanted to go, make your dream about music come true… I wish for you to achieve everything you’ve ever wanted, with my whole heart.” You swallowed hard and added, “It’s just not going to be with me. I don’t know where my place is yet, but it’s not by your side.”

For now, your best companion was yourself. And your dog. And actually, that was enough.

You finished speaking on the mailbox with, “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

You didn’t hesitate to delete his number and block him all across social media. This time, for good.

The fact that you cried yourself to sleep that night would be your own little secret to keep, but it would also be the very last time you would find yourself in a position to cry over Jaemin, ever.

The next morning, you felt free. The air was clear and crisp. It was cloudy, but not snowing. Thank god.

____

“I apologize for having to tell you this, but Mr. Jeong hasn’t signed the divorce papers.”

“Pardon me?” 

It had been a dreadful feeling to take the call from your lawyer the next morning. The more surprised you were about the actual message he had just passed down to you. Your breath caught.

“His lawyer told me he refuses to sign them and sent them back to me unsigned, that’s why I couldn’t send them to you yet.”

You frowned as you suddenly turned utterly confused. “But why? What did he say? Is there something he still wants to negotiate over?”

“They didn’t tell me, just that he refuses to sign them. I’ll resolve this for you, be at ease.”

“Don’t,” you held him back. “I’ll do it myself.”

“You’re not allow-”

But you had already hung up and were halfway out of the door, he didn’t even come to end his sentence.

____

Not even an hour later, you were standing in front of Jaehyun’s apartment door, ringing the bell like a maniac. He looked at you like he had expected you already as you stood in front of him with your arms folded in front of your chest.

“Took you long enough.”

“Care to explain to me why you sent the documents back unsigned?”

“Come inside,” he invited you calmly.

Your eyes narrowed. “Your girlfriend doesn't mind?”

“We haven’t seen each other since that weekend… and I rather want it to stay this way.”

Your heart jumped. That basically meant they weren’t together anymore, you concluded as you followed him into his apartment and took your shoes off in the corridor. 

“What about Jaemin?” 

“Same.”

It seemed that you both didn’t want to talk about your past lovers, and even though you were curious, if he had to elaborate, then you needed to as well, and there was no way you would ever want to live through the past weeks again.

“I was thinking about our conversation in the car back from Jeonju,” he began as he shifted around to face you the moment you arrived in the living room, “about what makes me happy. When we were separated, we didn’t see each other, and I was happy living a life I haven’t gotten a taste of before. I was happy doing new stuff, trying out new things, being untied from you. Because what made me unhappy… was you.”

Your eye twitched as you didn’t know whether you should feel offended now. But when you let the words sink in and contemplated them, you felt exactly the same. Seeing and spending time with your husband had dreaded you of all your energy and happiness as you two had forgotten how to be happy together anymore.

And you told him exactly that now.

“I agree.” He nodded. “And then I thought about what made me really unhappy. Because up until two weeks ago, I was really happy. And then came you, and you made me feel so miserable.”

You drew your brows together, not quite sure if you had heard right. But you had, and it stung. No, it actually hurt very much that it took all your might to refrain yourself from crying right now. “I… still make you unhappy?”

But Jaehyun’s facial expression didn’t match his words as he nodded. His features were soft, a slight smile playing around his lips. There was no way he could find this amusing?

“It makes me unhappy to see you unhappy. It makes me unhappy to see you suffering because of your grandmother and simultaneously getting mistreated by the guy who is supposed to make you happy. Because if he can’t do it, who will? I was just too blind to see this.”

You dropped your gaze. Jaehyun had. He had shown up in ways nobody else ever had. Just to… see you happy, because he couldn’t stand the thought of you being sad and miserable?

Knowing he was pushing so far, he didn’t wait for you to reply, but instead wanted to know, “What makes you unhappy?”

“When you’re not with me.”

With slow steps, he approached you until he stood tall and calm in front of you. You lifted your head and looked into his clear and sincere eyes.

“Please don’t ask me what will make me happy, Jaehyun,” you pleaded him straight-forwardly. “Because I’m not sure whether you’d like the answer.”

“What if I’d like to hear it?”

You furrowed in worry. “At all cost?”

Jaehyun inhaled sharply as though in tension, but his soft features remained. 

“What if you don’t like it?” you asked.

“You will never know if you don’t try, right?”

‘If, at some point in your life, you realize that you have made the wrong decision, don’t hesitate for a single second and tell him.’ You remembered your grandmother’s words too well.

He didn’t expect it though when you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you. 

He still tasted exactly like in your memories.

____

“Are you excited, Kang Kang?” 

Your dog yelped and ran around in circles. You patted his head when he eventually came to a standstill in front of you and looked up to you with big eyes.

“Are you excited to live with your dad again?”

As though in response, Kang Kang started to whirl around again and you laughed. Lately, you found yourself laughing very often, and every time it came from deep within you with all sincerity and happiness. 

In the past two weeks, your grandmother had started to settle with her new caretaker so that you could cut down your visits to once or twice a week, because you were currently busy moving houses. But each time, Jaehyun came with you, and your grandmother was overjoyed.

You had decided to move into a new home together that wasn’t riddled with memories of a very unpleasant phase in your marriage that had almost ended it for good. It was just as big and beautiful as this apartment, but you had already agreed that that one would only be a temporary home as well.

Maybe, not too far in the future, you could move outside of the city where Kang Kang would have a garden to run around in and where he would have playmates, maybe both, a boy and girl.

You blushed at the thought and looked at the engagement ring and wedding band that you had been wearing again since the day you had found out that your husband had never signed the divorce papers.

Just because you could make it on your own didn’t mean you wanted and needed to. After all, you had given a vow to each other, because somewhere in the past, you were so happy, you had agreed on spending the rest of your lives with each other. And that meant something, so much more than anyone not married could imagine. 

You weren’t walking down the aisle thinking you’re going to get divorced. You got married, because this was supposed to be forever.

Yes, it was right that it took much less to turn “Till death do us part” into “Till your lack of time for me do us part”, but unlike the worst case scenario, everything else was fixable. 

The movers were busy carrying down the last boxes with your stuff while you put Kang Kang on a leash. Looking around your old apartment for one last time, you bid farewell to this home of yours that not only bore bliss, but also destruction. But you had come out of it stronger, better than before.

You wouldn’t say that all your differences were now solved by deciding to get back together. Love alone couldn’t magically make them disappear, that was not how it worked. But you had talked long about this, what you needed to get back to where you had once been.

You had thought of your grandmother’s words every so often. No, you had not given it all yet, you eventually had to admit to her personally too, and she had only smiled, as though in knowing. Jaehyun and you both still had, apart from love of course, the passion, the determination, the strength. And hope. 

As long as there was that, your marriage was fixable.

And this time, you would make sure nothing would do you part again.

“The movers are ready, so we should get to the car. Here, let me take Kang Kang.”

Your heart was full of love and hope too when Jaehyun appeared at your door with a smile and took the leash from you after giving you a kiss on your cheek. 

Jaehyun was a husband who took care of things, so that you wouldn’t need to. Wasn’t this what marriage was about? Making each other’s lives easier and happier, because life itself was already hard enough.

Your grandmother had realized this very early. What a woman.

You didn’t think of Jaemin that often anymore. Only every now and then, he involuntarily crossed your mind and tugged on your heartstrings as a strong memory that day by day slowly faded, too. His face became blurry when you tried to remember his exact features, and eventually, he would only be a flash of a picture among a string of memories when you thought back to this time. As it had always been.

The only difference was that you had shut down every possibility of reaching out on either side. When you caught yourself wanting to unblock him and look him up on social media, you put your phone aside and let the feeling pass. It really worked wonders.

And one day, even this urge would perish.

When you stepped onto the streets that were still layered with a thin sheen of snow and ice, you noticed that the sun was shining and a touch of spring lingered in the air. The temperature would start to get warmer soon as well.

Your husband helped Kang Kang into the back of the car before he circled it and opened the door for you. And that was it, the huge difference. So subtle, but so grave all at once, it nearly made your heart burst.

“Are you ready to go home?” Jaehyun asked.

And finally, you answered, “Yes, I really want to go home.”  

Winter was still here, but in your heart, it was already summer when your husband took your hand.

You wanted rays of sunshine, warm breezes, salt on your skin and the chanting of crickets.

You wanted it to always be summer.

You wanted your husband.

____

One month prior

Jaemin had followed you all the way back to Seoul that very same day your grandmother had been admitted to the hospital, ditching the biggest opportunity in his entire life after all.

After he had seen you so disappointed and sad, mostly because of him, your expression hadn’t left his mind for hours. When it dawned on him what he was doing to you, letting you down in a very crucial situation, he wanted to beat himself up for being such a selfish idiot once again and had directly made his way to the café where you had fled to. But when he had arrived, you were already gone. 

Following you all the way to Seoul, he had been thinking of all the ways he could make it up to you. He had booked a hotel in the city and prepared to stay there for as long as you needed him. But when he had arrived, he saw you in front of the hospital and you weren’t alone. 

You had been with your husband and he had held you close as you cried in his arms, he had seen it all from his car.

He was too late again, he had thought. But when he had looked closer, the way Jaehyun was holding you and consoling you, he knew that timing wasn’t the problem, it had never been. 

You couldn’t be hugged like this by anyone. Jaemin couldn’t embrace you the way Jaehyun did, and it turned out to be a painful realization for him. It couldn’t be him, it also couldn’t be anyone else. It had to be Jaehyun.

It had always been Jaehyun.

___

“May I come in?”

Jaemin stood in front of Jaehyun’s door later that fateful day after you had left with your dog, facing his former best friend in person for the first time in many years. 

Occasionally, he would look at his social media after he had found out on a random day that Jaehyun had unblocked him and vice versa. Somehow, they still wanted to know what the other was up to, who they were up to with. The irony of that.

Jaehyun remained quiet, but pushed the door open for him. 

“Why are you here?” Jaehyun then asked him when they reached the living room. “She’s not here.”

“I know,” Jaemin answered. “I came for you.”

“So?” He braced his arm against the table and leaned back. “The invitations for the tea party are not out yet.”

“There is no need to be so condescending.” At this point, Jaemin was just so tired and wanted to leave this all behind him. “After today, I will be out of your lives, forever.”

“Sounds tempting. But as you know, we will be officially divorced soon, so she’s all yours to have.”

“But I’m not the one she needs.”

Jaehyun drew his brow together. “You’re the one she wants to be with.”

He smiled mildly and repeated, “But I’m not the one she needs. We don’t need to be together a fourth time to figure this out. You show up in ways I will never be able to, you’re the one she needs, even if she doesn’t see it yet.”

“Well… you’re too late.” Jaehyun shrugged. “I’ll sign the papers and will send them to my lawyer tomorrow. You think she’s some puppet you can toss around when you’re done playing just to pick her up again when it’s convenient for you? That’s not how relationships work.”

“I know.” Jaemin dropped his head in regret. “I’ve never wanted all of this. I’ve always wanted the best for…”

“...yourself,” Jaehyun ended the sentence aloud.

“... her,” Jaemin ended the sentence in his head.

And even though everything was different now, even though he had evolved and grown so much as a person, it was easier to let them believe that he was still the selfish, hard-headed Jaemin from the past. 

After all, he couldn't hold her like Jaehyun to make her feel so happy. 

It had to be someone particular. It had to be him.

And if he would be gone, then no one could make her happy anymore.

So Jaemin dashed forward and grabbed his former friend by the collar. Jaehyun was too perplexed to instantly react and just faced his opposite with a shocked expression.

“Listen up,” Jaemin growled, “if you send out signed divorce papers, I will come for you in the worst way possible. If you don’t rekindle this marriage with her, I will make your life a living hell. We might not like each other anymore, but we both love her, and if I ever see you making her sad again, you can dig your own grave. You will fix this marriage, no matter the cost, are we in the clear?”

He slowly let go of Jaehyun after luring out a reluctant nod from him. Latter cleared his throat and asked, “... but, do you think she even still wants to be with me?”

This time, Jaemin’s smile was sincere. “I’m absolutely sure about that. Show her again the reason why she was picking you over me, again and again. Remind her of all the traits that make you so much better for her than me, and she will choose you again. If she hasn’t already. Or do you not want t-”

“I do!” Jaehyun blurted out. “I absolutely do.”

Jaemin stretched out his arm and gave his former friend’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Very well.”

When he made his way to the door, Jaehyun stopped him with the words, “Thank you. Honestly.”

Initially, he wanted to turn around, but it was starting to burn behind his eyes, so Jaemin kept his back turned to Jaehyun and said,

“Don’t make me regret this.”

____

Jaemin threw his phone into the bushes on his way out.

So, what now?

He turned his head to the sky, and even though the tears started streaming down his face now, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and smiled through the blurriness. The wind was cold and burned his wet cheeks, and suddenly, it started snowing again.

This pain would vanish, he was sure of that. When you had fixed your marriage, got children and grew old together, his pain would eventually pass in this timeline. 

Yet, at that moment, it felt like it ripped Jaemin’s heart to shreds, even to the point where he wondered if he was actually tricking himself into believing that he would be fixed again or had to live the rest of his life with this ache slowly eating him up from the inside until there was nothing left of him anymore except for the frayed edges of his once so lively soul.

Jaemin took a deep breather and swallowed the next wave of tears.

He had no regrets, despite everything. And he still had hope. As long as there was that and he was able to hold onto these faint strings, he would continue on.

A fresh start, that was what he needed now as he trotted to his car. Far away from you and Jaehyun so that your paths would never cross again in this lifetime. That was the last selfless act he could still offer to you.

America sounded good.

[autonomousroboticorganism]

sparkmate (TF One Sentinel Prime)

pairing - Sentinel Prime x F!Reader

summary - Sentinel has never showed any interest in sparkmates, or at least that's what you assumed. turns out, you're wrong.

warnings - another mech pushes you/slight violence

a/n - i am delusional when it comes to this bot so expect a lot of delusional fluff about him in the coming days

Arrogant. Narcissistic. Obnoxious.

These were all words that could be used to describe Sentinel Prime. Along with crazy, weird and insufferably handsome. You couldn't imagine there being any femme who wasn't crushing on the leader of Iacon, and you were no exception.

But it wasn't like you could ever mean anything more than an advisor, a friend, to him. Because he didn't pursue romantic relationships, as far as you knew. It was an unfortunate fact you would have to live with, made difficult by being in his presence all the time. Everyday.

You watched your friends find sparkmates, and felt happy for them. Though every time they tried to set you up, it ended in disaster.

You only had one mech in mind, and that was Sentinel Prime.

It was just so hard to get his attention.

You various attempts didn't work, and you had pretty much given up and resigned the idea of ever being his sparkmate when something you did unintentionally got his attention.

You were talking to one of his elite guards, discussing some new security measures, when that guard began to hit on you. You, not knowing he was flirting, carried on speaking to him, accepting his compliments thinking they were said kindly.

Sentinel was looking for you, wanting a second opinion on his new paintjob, but that quickly darkened into wanting to get you away from that guard asap when he saw what was going on. The Prime was easily jealous, especially when it came to things, and a certain Cybertronian, that belonged to him.

"(Name)!" He called cheerily, but when he grabbed your arm his touch was anything but cheerful. It was hard, almost hurtful, as he pulled you away from the brave guard. "Let him know he's fired, later."

You gaped at the Prime, "What? Why? It wasn't even his mistake-"

"You misunderstand, dear (Name)," his voice was sickly sweet, like something malicious lurked behind his tone. "He's not fired because of that."

But he didn't elaborate, he simply kept leading you away from the guard. Away from all his guards, in fact. To a much more private area of his tower, one that had your jaw dropping when you entered. You never thought you'd ever see it.

His berthroom.

"Uh, what are we-"

He cut you off, "I heard your friends have started looking for a sparkmate for you. Do you want one?"

"I, um-" Being here was disorienting enough, but his question completely took you out. You didn't think he'd ask that, let alone care about your love life.

"Do you," He moved closer, repeating himself but slower, "want one, (Name)?"

Your processor whirled, trying to figure out what to say. You didn't know what the right answer was to that, or what his reaction would be if you admitted the truth, that you did want one.

So you did the next worst best thing.

You said, "I want you."

Then you clapped a servo over your intake, optics going wide. It took Sentinel a minute to process what you had just blurted out, before he smiled.

"Naturally."

"Look, Sentinel-"

"Open up," he tapped your chassis, and began to do so with his.

Your optics widened even more, and slowly you opened your chassis up. Your spark buzzed excitedly being so close to his, and when he moved closer to you there was no hesitance and no resistance in the bonding process.

When it was over, and your sparks were back in their chambers, you stared at him in disbelief. Not only had you just become his sparkmate, but you felt all the possessiveness he felt over you.

"Perfect!" He beamed, "Now I don't have to worry right? You're mine, and only mine."

"Worry..?"

Sentinel could be a lot sweeter and softer than most would assume. He was an egotistical maniac, of course, but your bond revealed all the affection and love he felt for you.

"Enough. Stop working, sweetspark."

Sentinel pulled you away from what you were doing simply to hold you. He loved attention, especially from you, and right now he needed yours.

"But Sentinel, you wanted-"

"That can wait."

His arms wrapped entirely around your frame, pulling you against his chassis as he buried his faceplates in your neck cables.

"This feels good."

You felt your faceplates heat up, "Yes, it does."

"We should do this more often," he pulled away with a very cheerful smile.

"Sentinel, have you never been given a hug..?"

"If you mean what we just did, then no," he shrugged it off like it was nothing. "I haven't exactly been close to anyone, in case you didn't notice."

"Hmm," you hummed, then hugged him again.

Once he realised touch was a sign of affection, you noticed him do it a lot more. From placing a servo on your lower back to holding your servo, Sentinel had to be touching you in some way.

Primus forbid anyone else touch you, though.

"(Name)! It's been so long!"

Before you could even register who the voice had come from, a mech was in front of you and reaching out to hug you. You stepped back, a bit uncomfortable when you saw that it was one of the mechs your friends had set you up with.

"Oh, uh, hi," you greeted uncertainty. You looked around, hoping this wouldn't get Sentinel's attention. Because this really was nothing.

The mech grinned, "So I've been thinking...last time was fun, right? I enjoyed myself, you enjoyed yourself...why don't we try again?"

"Actually I'm Sentinel Prime's..." You trailed off when he began to look afraid, and your frame went rigid when you saw a familiar shadow engulf the shaking mech. "Sentinel."

"My love!" He exclaimed dramatically, making sure to shoot the other mech a glare before grabbing your chin and pulling your face towards his. He kissed you possessively, putting on a show for the mech who'd tried to touch his sparkmate. "My name sounds so good when you say it, you know that?" He mumbled as he pulled away.

The mech was long gone. But so was Airachnid.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"What do you mean?" Sentinel smiled, digits ghosting over your jawline.

"..."

"Although, it was nice to hear you say you're mine."

"I tell everyone that."

"Really? Even better!"

He may have odd ways of showing it, but he genuinely cared for you. He genuinely loved you, even if he didn't know how to express it very well.

Not many dared to hurt you after word spread of you being Sentinel's sparkmate, but the few brave ones who tried?

Disappeared without a trace.

"You rejected me? Me?!" Another one of your failed attempts at dating approached you one day, anger written all over his faceplates.

Your eyes widened, but you didn't have the time to react since he was already so close. His hands shoved your chassis, leaving a few scratches, and you tumbled backwards onto the ground. Also leaving scratches.

Everyone nearby froze. Not because your sparkmate was approaching, but because of the mere consequences this mech would face when Sentinel found out.

"(Name), why did I have to learn from Airachnid that you were harmed today?" Sentinel asked when he entered your shared berthroom.

"It was nothing," you told him, turning to face him.

He looked genuinely concerned, and you thought your optics were deceiving you. Until he inspected you upon reaching you.

"Scratches aren't nothing," he glared at the marks. "Who did this?"

You relented and gave him the name and description of the mech. There was no use trying to stop him, he would just find out from Airachnid anyway.

"Are you even going to tell me what you have planned for that one?"

"Let's go get you a nice new finish! Maybe my colours?"

You literally become his prized possession. All he asks for in return is your undying love and affection, which you already give him. Sentinel might seem self-absorbed and uncaring, but with you, his precious sparkmate, he's the opposite, and more.

[kbz-writes]

Here is my Winter Gift Exchange '24 fic for @kamiya-travis. I hope you like it! It's my first time writing so much Hiruma & Mamori interaction.

Shout out to @eyeshields for organizing, thank youuu!

Title: Any Other Name

Rating: Gen

Relationship: Hiruma & Mamori

Summary: During the Hakushu game, Hiruma's injury happens right before halftime. His conversation with Mamori goes differently.

The gift of being an eldest daughter is that it's also a bit of a curse. Granted, Mamori is an only child. However, she and Sena were close since they were little. They were practically siblings. Caring for someone came naturally to her when they'd play together. The effect compounded from there. She took care of people because she was a caretaker, and she was a caretaker because she took care of people. A cycle. The gentlest ourobous.

That's why, with Hiruma on the cot with his broken arm bandaged, she has to put her foot down.

"There's no way you can keep playing with your arm like that!" she yells, unable to keep her voice calm. The envelope she tore up and then painstakingly taped back together shakes in her hand. "After halftime, we'll have someone else be quarterback—"

"Third question," Hiruma says through gritted teeth, ignoring her completely. "There are idiots in the NFL that have kept playing matches with broken bones. True or false?"

Mamori knows she's trapped in the cycle. She can't let him hurt himself any more.

"If I say true, then you'll just keep playing," she says, unable to keep her eyes from welling with tears. "So I'll say false."

"Wrong." A slash of a smile streaks across Hiruma's face. "I win."

"What? Third... question...?" Her mind goes back to the beginning of the year. Their bet. How could she have forgotten?

"As you promised, you'll work obediently."

"You're an idiot," she whispers. "Bringing that up after all this time."

"Just keep your promise. Open the letter."

"By process of elimination, it has to be Ishimaru." Her fingers work stiffly pulling out the single piece of paper inside. Reading the name feels like gibberish at first. "It's—my name?"

"Oh, good, you're not illiterate. Almost had me fooled."

"You can't be serious. I'm not on the team!"

"You're on the roster."

The Bando game. She had thought it was uncharacteristic for Hiruma to add her as a form of sentimentality. 

"I don't have a uniform." Even as Mamori says that, she knows Hiruma already has an answer. (Suzuna teasingly making Mamori try on Sena's uniform. It'd be easy enough to get her a spare knowing her measurements.)

"That chibi cheerleader is useful sometimes."

Mamori is left standing dumbly, at a complete loss of words. Up to this point, her role on the team has been all about analysis: film, developing plays, planning for every possibility.

"Are you doing this because I know our playbook?" she asks.

Hiruma scoffs. "So does the team."

"But I can't throw—" But she has thrown a few times, she thinks, a little with Suzuna, even once with Hiruma when they had needed to take a break during a particularly long film session. She hadn't been all that good, but she had caught on to the basics.

Her eyes widen.

The weight training she had tried out of curiosity with the team.

Cycling alongside them during their runs.

Ladders with Sena every once in a while.

Even the games of sand football.

She'd been training with them all this time, hadn't she?

"You've been planning this for a long while, haven't you?" she asks. "You always have backup plans just in case, even if something like this happening was almost impossible."

"I've told you before, we make our own luck. Now, don't tell me you'd be satisfied with just being a fucking manager this whole time."

Being the manager for the Devilbats had come naturally to Mamori. It was a challenge she happily accepted. Just like Yukimitsu, Mamori hadn't joined any other clubs. It would have interfered too much with the Devilbats demanding schedule. Her kinship with Yukimitsu is different than her friendship with Suzuna. (Suzuna is part of the cheer team and the Devilbats.) Mamori and Yukimitsu only have the Devilbats. She'd been so happy for him when he joined the field against Shinryuji, even if she felt like she'd been left on the outside looking in.

Mamori had made peace with giving up her last year of athletic eligibility to help the Devilbats.

And yet.

(She placed eighth overall for the girls' heat in the last sports festival race. She beat out a couple of the girls on the track team.)

(She’d thought about joining the track team actually. Something to keep her in shape. Something fun to do. A different form of challenge. But there was never any time.)

"The team has worked so hard to reach the Christmas Bowl," Mamori says. "Somewhere along the way, it became my dream, too." She folds the paper back into the envelope and sets it to the side, all business. "What's your plan? You can't expect me to last the whole second half. I can't throw like you."

Hiruma keeps grinning sharply despite the pain he must be in. "Who the fuck asked you to do that? Your head's getting stupid from all the cream puffs. You're not my replacement. We're going two quarterbacks."

She lets his barbs slide off of her. If anything, his insults are a good sign. They're also reassuring. (Seeing someone as unflappable as Hiruma fall is distressing to the say the least.)

Mamori taps her chin. "If you're going on the field, it must be because you still have a card up your sleeve. Throwing has to be impossible—which is why you'll still do it, won't you?"

"Realistically, I got one good throw left. My arm'll be useless after that."

"But Hakushu doesn't know that. Just you being on the field will make them hesitate with how unpredictable you are."

They lock eyes.

"We're cursing them so they can't fucking look away. Gonna drive fucking eyelashes insane trying to predict what we're gonna do. Might've been close if it was just one quarterback, but luckily we got the smartest bitch joining the field."

"You're terrible," Mamori says. This insult doesn't bother her either. No, her system's already start to fill with adrenaline. She's more concerned with other things. She's seen how big the linemen are. 

Reading her mind, Hiruma says, "Can't guarantee you won't get hurt."

"It's a full contact sport," she says, blunt. Her voice shakes. This is how Sena and Yukimitsu must have felt their first game. She gulps. "I'll do it."

"As if there was any question. 'Sides, the Devilbats don't let fucking cowards on the team."

Their talk takes them about a third of the way through halftime. They hustle getting ready. Following Hiruma's instruction, she bandages both his arms up, and he waits for her to change into her uniform. She is a bit touched to find it's modified for women, more room in the chest padding.

When she puts on her helmet and stares into the mirror, she doesn't recognize herself. All she sees is an American football player. (She likes it.)

She steps out of the changing room, and they walk in-step together to the field, but when Mamori steps onto the pitch, she does it as part of the team.

She does it for herself.

[spiderdetentionaire]

Young Goetia is huddled next to Lilith who is trying to comfort the teenager. And in the process Octavia receives what is known as affection from a mother figure.

Octavia: Seriously, I heard her. Besides wanting to kill my dad, she wants to kill me *wipes away tears and looks at the Sins* And it's all your fault! You took my father's powers away.

Mammon: Okay. We fucked up, yeah. And we're paying the consequences, what else do you want from us?

Lucifer takes a pillow from Belphegor that she used to get some sleep, and buries his face in it to start throwing a tantrum to vent the anger that he doesn't hide at all.

Belphegor: Brother, calm down.

Lucifer: Do you see what you caused, you bunch of idiots? Now this girl is in danger *presses the bridge of his nose, even though he doesn't have one* Tell me kid, where do you think your father could be?

Octavia: Well, the only place I think about is my friend Loona's house. And she lives with her adoptive father, Blitzø *turns to look at Beelzebub* She told me about you and said you were friends, why didn't you do anything to help?

She was going to answer but Satan intervenes.

Satan: Very well. It was my fault, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I screwed up the most than them, okay?

Lucifer: Well, that's a first step to admit your mistake… Amenadiel.

Satan: *gets upset* That's not my name anymore… Samael.

Lucifer: *thinks a bit* Let me see, that Blitzø lives in the Imps' neighborhood, right? *Octavia nods* Ah, damn myself. I'll have to go through that angry mob again. I'll have to modify the Hierarchy and do what my beloved wife suggested. So Sinners, I'm sorry but now you'll be at the bottom of Hell.

Angel: Great.

Lucifer heads for the door to leave, feeling the gazes of the Sins.

Lucifer: *sighs* Okay, you can go back to your rings now. And yes, I'll leave them clean for you. But if you do something stupid like that again, you'll see what's going to happen to you. I have plenty of imagination for punishments. *opens the door, but Alastor stops him* What do you want, Bambi?

Alastor: Wait, Your Majesty. I can't let you go to that place alone after your humiliating event. So you must be accompanied by someone who supports you. Someone who watches your back. So… Charlie, go and accompany your father.

Charlie: For a moment I thought I had achieved something with you Alastor. Thanks because I thought I was dreaming *said somewhat disappointed* Come on, dad. Let's look for that Goetia.

The King and Princess leave the hotel in search of Stolas. Meanwhile, Octavia is still sad and can't stop hugging Lilith.

Octavia: Please excuse me, Queen Lilith. I just needed this.

Lilith: Poor little thing. It seems you never had a mother's love *in her mind* Although I'm no better mother than she is.

Octavia: Try as I might, I can't remember a time when she's ever done anything for me or shown genuine love. It was always me and my dad.

Curiosity overtook Lilith.

Lilith: Nothing? Not even a small detail from her or a simple "I love you, my beloved daughter"?

Octavia: Just for show.

Lilith's "Mama Bear" mode turned on. She gently separated from Octavia and headed for the door.

Vaggie: Ma'am, where are you going?

Lilith: I think I'll go have tea with this girl's mother and have a warm chat with her *and left the hotel*.

Husker: Now she's pissed *goes to the six sins* So you're fallen angels?

Satan: Why would we respond that to a sinner?

Angel: Okay. Charlie's dad brought you here to insult us, or what? Besides, you can go back to your rings now. Why are you still here?

Vaggie: I think I know why. *addresses the Sins* Charlie told me a lot about you. About how her aunts and uncles took care of her when she was a little girl. I guess that's why you haven't left yet. You want to spend more time with her.

The six of them exchange glances, Vaggie isn't wrong, they enjoy Charlie's positive attitude and joy. They even like the Hotel, they like what she achieved and what she wants to achieve even though it seems impossible.

Mammon: It's true *he admitted* She's a special girl.

Asmodeus: Yes. It's just that we didn't know what time would be right to spend time with her.

Satan: It seems like she's fine without us.

Belphegor: I remember when I made myself a giant and she slept in my wool when she was a baby.

Leviathan: *both heads talk at the same time* Although we think she might need help with her plan. She wants to redeem the sinners to avoid exterminations, the problem is that she wants to redeem them all when that's impossible. If anything she could only redeem some, only if they want redemption. But not everyone deserves it.

Octavia: *a little calmer* Once, when we were still a family, let's say functional, we watched your commercial on TV.

-FLASHBACK-

It was a quiet morning where the Goetia family was having breakfast when on TV they showed a commercial about a place in Hell founded by the Princess of this same Hell to redeem sinners so that they go to Heaven and thus avoid the annual exterminations.

Stolas: That… sounds like an interesting idea.

Stella: Pfff! Please. Does the little princess really think that sinners will want to go to her hotel or whatever to be better? They are just scum that enjoy being here.

Octavia: Well, at least she tries to do something. I mean, her father lets those angels come here and cause a massacre every year. I have even lost some friends.

Stella: Honey, they are souls that chose to be here and now they must suffer the consequences like the scum that they are. I have also told you to look for friends more on our level.

Stolas: I think Octavia has a point. I even know sinners that deserve a second chance. Sure, there are a few of them, but…

Stella: Ha! Of course. The day that girl manages to get a sinner to go to Heaven, then I'll… Umm… *thinks a bit* I can't think of anything. But that won't happen *puts food in her mouth* Nuh uh.

Stolas: Don't talk with your mouth full, please.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Vaggie: We'll make Stella eat her words. But you're right. And I tried to make her see that but I was looking for a way to do it.

Then the Sins exchange glances and nod to each other.

Bee: Araqiel.

Alastor: Excuse me, your highness?

Bee: That was my name before the fall. Araqiel.

Asmodeus: Semyazza.

Mammon: Gadreel.

Leviathan: *both heads* Tamiel.

Husker: And did you always have two heads?

Leviathan: *both heads* We had one. But when we got the power of Hell that head split into two and two were formed.

Belphegor: *yawns* Azazel.

In the end everyone sees Satan, who at first regrets the idea but gives a hot sigh.

Satan: You just heard it *groans* Amenadiel.

Mammon: Considered as Father's favorite son. Although I think it's Michael now.

Satan: Don't start. And we weren't just angels, we were archangels. The best archangels God has ever had among his children. Hmmp! I'm the oldest of all and Samael is the one who punishes us and all that.

Bee: I wonder how Lucifer and Charlie are doing with that Goetia.

Mastermind Aftermath (ft. Lilith)

Charlie was watching TV with her mom when suddenly they show a summary of the trial.

Charlie: Oh shit.

Lilith: If your father sees this…

Lucifer arrives with a bowl of popcorn.

Lucifer: Hi my loves, what are you watching?

When he sees the summary on TV he drops the bowl to the floor. And although he seemed to be smiling, he was actually very pissed off with his horns visible.

Charlie: Dad?

Lucifer: I'm sorry but I have to take care of some things to do.

And without further ado he disappears.

An hour later. Vaggie turns on the TV and…

Vaggie: Puta madre!

Everyone is going to see the gossip.

666 News: Breaking news! Lucifer beats the shit out of the sins. Just like you hear it. The king of Hell made it snow in the ring of Wrath, put limits on consumption in the ring of Gluttony, put 100% discounts in the ring of Greed, applied parental control in the ring of Lust, made everyone happy with what they have in the ring of Envy and prohibited sleeping at all hours and laziness in the ring of Sloth. And now he is reportedly looking for the former prince Stolas to give him back all his power. The king of Hell was interviewed and this is what he said.

Lucifer: It's just not fair. I'm helping in my daughter's project, and these people are causing a mess with a lawsuit behind my back… it's not fair.

Reporter: Will things go back to normal in the other rings after what he did?

Lucifer: Until further notice and when I say so. And no more questions. I'm looking for Stolas.

Husk: He's pissed off.

Angel: Look what it says on my phone. It says that Charlie's dad has taken control over the rings and sent the sins to a specific place until he gets over with their mess and gets over his anger.

Lilith: And where does he plan to send them?

The hotel bell rings. Niffty goes quickly and comes back quickly.

Niffty: Charlie, they're looking for you.

Charlie goes and finds her uncles and aunts all scolded and punished.

Mammon: Your dad sent us here.

Beelzebub: And he will be in control of our rings until he says so. And all because of you, Satan!

Azmodeus: As some Imps would say: You fucked up!

---

In Stella's house, she throws the remote to the T.V. breaking it after seeing the news. Needless to say, she's just as pissed off as the time she found out Stolas was cheating on her with an Imp. Right next to her is her brother.

Stella: He can't do that, right?

Andrealphus: Oh dear sister *he takes a sip of his tea* Of course he can! Is fucking Lucifer we're talking about. Didn't you see what he did to the Sins?! Of course he can return your ex his powers.

Stella: *growls in frustration* And to think that all my plans are finally coming to fruition, only for that damn dwarf to show up and ruin everything. And yes, it is Lucifer we are talking about.

Under the table, as if it were a cartoon…

Andrealphus: But what a clever and original comment.

Whatever. Stella pulls out a huge folder with many plans against Stolas to claim absolute power. Andrealphus sees the folder and is shocked to see Octavia's photo in it.

Andrealphus: Are you thinking of plotting to kill your own daughter? Would you be capable of such a thing?!

Stella: Andrealphus! What are you saying?! OF COURSE I am capable, but it's not the time yet, silly. One step at a time.

Suddenly, she closes the folder and makes it disappear into a strategic location.

Stella: There's no other option. We have to kill Stolas before His Highness gives his powers back. *she laughs evilly*

Andrealphus: Let me think in a good plan for it. But I assure you, it will be done as you wish, my hot sister.

Brother and sister laugh evilly and madly, as if they were two kookaburras, and Andrealphus turns his head back maniacally.

Stella: But now I must step into my role as a devoted mother and go see Octavia to her room and tell her to come for dinner. That girl is skin and bones.

As Stella leaves, Andrealphus sees a picture of Stolas with a malicious look.

Andrealphus: I hope you've enjoyed your pathetic Imp, Stolas. Because soon you'll be--

Stella: Andrealphus!!

The ice bird gets up from his seat and runs towards his sister's scream. When he arrives, he finds Stella standing in Octavia's bedroom doorway.

Andrealphus: What's happening?!

Stella: Octavia's gone!

The young Goetia had escaped and took everything she could with her; clothes, phone, etc. Seeing the scene, Stella becomes thoughtful until she concludes something.

Stella: Changes of plans, brother. We have to kill her, too.

---

It had been about 5 hours since Lucifer left to look for Stolas. At the Hotel Charlie does everything possible to make her uncles and aunts feel comfortable, which is not easy since they already have a state of life and comfort zone already established. And of course, there was no lack of criticism or at best certain observations about the redemption plan that she wants to impart in her Hotel and the possible failure that this can entail.

But all that is interrupted when Lucifer appears at the main door all hurt, his clothes torn and tired. Lilith takes him to their room at the Hotel to take care of his wounds, for example she cleans the wounds on one of his legs.

Lucifer: Hey hey hey it burns it burns.

Lilith: It's incredible that you, being the king of hell, a simple demon, could have done this to you.

Lucifer: Demons in plural. And if I ended up like this it's because they piled up against me.

Lilith: Well, what kind of demons were they?

Lucifer: Imps.

Lilith: *not believing it* IMPS?!

Lucifer: But with impressive forces. I don't understand how they could do this to me. As if I had done something to harm them.

Lilith: Well, maybe it was because you put them at the lowest bottom of the Hierarchy in Hell.

Lucifer: Maybe that's why, right?

Lilith: I told you that that place was meant for Sinners.

Then Mammon appears at the door.

Mammon: Dear sister-in-law, are you still going to take your time to heal the wounds of poor Luci who was attacked by some fierce Imps? *laughs* Speaking about losers, bro.

Lucifer: Laugh, you fatso. I'd like to see you face those Imps who seemed to be full of sterols.

Lilith: Why do you say that?

Lucifer: Because the poor bastards jumped so high that they would surpass Sera's height... And how do you know they were Imps?

Mammon: They are broadcasting your humiliating event on Vox TV.

Lucifer: Damn bootleg plasma TV. Not only satisfied with trying to ruin our daughter's project... I'm going to close down his business and his partners' to see if he finds it funny.

Lilith: Mammon, why don't you kindly ask Niffty to prepare you something to eat *takes out a sewing needle* while I sew it up?

Lucifer: Are you going to sew my wounds with that needle?!

Lilith: No, your pants.

Lucifer: Ahhh

Lucifer takes off his torn pants. And yes, hus underwear has printed ducklings.

Lilith: And you, Mammon, go and ask Niffty for something to eat.

Mammon: Greaaaaaat. Okay, Luci, I'm leaving because my hunger is as fierce as some dangerous Imps *laughs again and leaves*

Lucifer: Let's see if you keep laughing, knowing that I control your ring.

Lilith: Please, Luci. Don't be angry anymore.

Lucifer: And how could I not be angry after the stupid thing they did behind my back? Speaking of stupid things, what an idiot I am for not having found Stolas yet, Oh My Father. I've already checked every corner of the rings and that Goetia doesn't appear. Well...

Lilith: Well, what?

Lucifer: I checked every corner, except the Imps' zone when they attacked me. And I'm still an idiot because it is said that he is having an affair with an Imp.

Lilith: The ex-prince of the Goetia having an affair with an Imp? This has become a soap opera.

Lucifer uses his magic to dress himself in better clothes and leaves the room. In the lobby, the rest of the sins, including Alastor, did not hide their desire to laugh after seeing on television how some simple Imps attacked the king of Hell.

Lucifer: Keep laughing, you fuckers. You won't see your rings in a long time. But now I have better things to...

But when he opens the doors of the Hotel to leave again, he finds a young Goetia about to knock on the door. It seemed that the girl was crying.

Octavia: King Lucifer?

Lucifer: Umm... yes?

Octavia: I need your help.

[odysseys-blood]

god hes such a little shit i need him

[i-havenothingelsetopost]

genuine question, do you like maths?? i have a vague feeling i saw your post of tags or something that said something about it but i cannot figure out if it was in fact you or if it was even positive ahahah

Yeah that was me! I don't go looking for math problems, but when I happen to do them, I tend to enjoy it. Wasn't always this way — elementary school math was about speed and memorization and I hated that — but I had a really good teacher in upper secondary school, and it became about creative problem solving. It feels the same as writing a poem in meter or managing to untangle a really bad knot in a ball of yarn.

[evecolourshock]

....aaaand now i have fic

Apologies to all my RP buddies, stepping back from RP has made the stories runneth over

Tron hesitates, and then sinks into a booth Sam reserved for the this needs a drink kind of explanations. It is, he admits, a useful system given how little Sam knows of his father's work and Tron's own (admittedly patchy) knowledge of how things were before Clu messed with them.

"What's up?" Sam greets Tron, worry creasing that young face. "What happened, is something-"

"Nothing is more wrong than it was when you left eight millicycles ago." Tron soothes. It... kind of works. "More... I'm aware my question earlier was strange, and offer explanations." Because that's something he's learned to do, now. Explain.

Tron wishes he had this new skill when Beck- not going there.

Sam motions at him to go on.

"You'll have noticed by now a lot of things are named after me, and I keep on asking you to change them." Tron decides to start. Sam nods - that's good, he's aware of what Tron's on about. "I didn't have anything to do with the initial naming, that was all your father." Tron sips at the low-grade energy already on the table - it's nice on his scratchy throat, and if he wants a higher grade he can order it. "He... went a lot overboard with it, and I didn't notice."

Sam grimaces, aware of just how many things are named Tron-somethings. He's had to change a lot of them, and there's still more to go.

"By the time I found out... well. Too late to change it, and he didn't listen to my protests. Especially when I told him it was past flattering and well and truly into terrifying. In hindsight... it explains Clu. Or at least some of Clu's actions." Tron winces, reflexively hunching to protect his chest, feeling a phantom blade carve in again. Sam's hand on his arm brings him back to the now quicker than he would on his own (Beck, where's Beck-). "I was genuinely concerned he'd given you my name too."

"He tried." Sam tells him, and Tron's core sinks. Sam deserves better than to be saddled with that- "Mom overruled him. Gave me her dad's name instead and claimed family tradition. How true that is... I don't know. Never met that side of the family, or at least I don't remember."

"Your mother-" Tron takes a fraction of a picocycle to process this new User word, identifying within an error margin of 0.379% that it relates to the Jordan Flynn told him about, "-was an amazing woman, with the patience to put up with Flynn's antics and the strength to not let him get away with too many of them."

That startles a laugh out of Sam, and Tron smiles as best he can too. Sam's joy is infectious (rather like someone else Tron... knew, ow that hurts, leave that topic alone).

"Yeah." Sam murmurs, once the laughter fades. "Yeah, I bet she was." They sit in silence for a while, Program and User, contemplative and companionable.

"We were about to start work in Argon, right?" Sam doesn't question why Tron wants the desolate, burned ruins of a little port town restored, trusting there to be a good reason for this diversion of resources to a place that shouldd be low on the priority list. "Anything major to change there?"

"Nothing named after me, but..." Tron steeples his hands, the way he always does when nervous. "Could we... adjust the main square?"

"What to?"

"A memorial garden and park." Tron looks at the energy shimmering in his glass. Sam's been adding these relaxation spaces, indignant about the lack of peaceful areas to rest, and introduced plants for both the novelty and calm they bring. "Three connected but separate areas."

"Easy." Sam tells him confidently, and he's right now the jitters have subsided. "What would you like them named?"

"Renegade Park." Tron answers immediately, sure of it. "One garden for Beck, the other for Bodhi." Even now, he remembers. Beck had talked at length about Bodhi - the Ram to Beck's Tron, if Tron had to compare it. "...and maybe name an office block for Cyrus. That one's... something of an in-joke as well as a memorial."

Sam smiles at him, and for a moment Tron sees another adored fluffy-haired menace in his place. "I'll see what I can do."

Kevin: I can’t believe you didn’t get the hint. Like, I made so many things because you wanted them. I named tons of stuff after you. Like, Tron Cycles the unit of time, your Tron Tower, in Tron City, in the Tron system-

Tron: The what.

Kevin: This is the Tron system. That’s its official name in the source files, haven’t you seen?

Tron: KEVIN.

Kevin: What? I thought you’d like it!

Tron: There is a point where it goes past flattery and into terrifying!

Kevin: I’d say I should’ve stopped at the city, but obviously the system came first… Oh yeah, and I keep calling Alan ‘Tron’. Hehe, get it, because I thought you were Alan that first time and now the shoe’s on the other foot-

Tron: *faints*

(Later)

Sam logging in: Samuel T. Flynn.

Tron: what does the T stand for

Sam: Timothy. Why?

Tron: oh thank god

[nikkento-writes]

It starts with a distasteful joke from Gojo. "I bet Nanami's pretty vanilla in bed, am I right?" He nudges you playfully as he sips on his lychee mocktail in the restaurant. Your boyfriend excused himself to use the bathroom and Ieiri went out for a smoke, leaving you alone with Gojo, who you met for the first time just a little over an hour ago.

You're shocked that he'd even ask such a personal question, especially since your relationship with Nanami is still four-months fresh. Unsure how to respond, you simply laugh, not answering. When he continues to stare at you through his blindfold, your smile falters. "You're being serious?"

He smirks, clearly egging you on. "I just can't imagine our little strait-laced salary man being very fun in the sack. No offense."

You're torn between changing the subject all together into something less inappropriate and defending your lover's honor. And unfortunately for you, as the anger inside you begins to bubble at Gojo's tactless words, you choose the latter. "If you must know, he's very, very fun in the sack." You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. 

He shrugs, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "I just can't see it. But as long as you're satisfied, that's all that matters."

"I am very satisfied, thank you very much!" you emphasize, cheeks hot now, annoyed. Before you explode on him, Nanami and Ieiri return, so you try to contain your rage as much as possible throughout the rest of dinner.

You intend to keep his outrageous comments to yourself, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama, especially with Nanami who is above this type of ridiculousness. But remembering Gojo's smug expression makes you irate all over again. That night, while you're cuddling with Nanami, you share the story. "So, Gojo said something funny to me while you were in the bathroom." As you recount the short conversation from earlier, you keep it light-hearted, laughing about it as if it doesn't grind your gears (which it does). In all honestly, your sex life with Nanami is amazing, and while it's nobody's business but your own, you can't help being bothered that certain people think otherwise. 

When you're done, Nanami doesn't respond right away, processing it all before he speaks. "Interesting." His voice is steady, though you can sense a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He's an idiot," he adds, holding you closer, grazing his lips on your forehead. 

You giggle, snuggling into his chest. "I know."

"But...you are satisfied, right?"

The waver of uncertainty in his voice breaks your heart and you almost regret telling him. "Of course I am! You know I am!" you answer confidently, peering up at him.

He kisses your forehead. "You promise?"

Grabbing both his cheeks, you smooch him on the lips. "I promise."

Gentle kisses soon turn into sloppy ones as Nanami rolls on top of you, surrounding you in his strong and muscular body. It happens quickly; the blanket is shrugged off, clothes are stripped and scattered on the floor, your legs are spread wide for him as he eats you out voraciously, proving how much fun he can be in bed. He makes you orgasm twice like this, getting it nice and wet for his hard cock, throbbing in his fist as he strokes it. “Ride me,” he demands, laying on his back, licking his lips while you mount him.

You oblige, sinking down on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Kento,” you whine, wiggling on his lap until he bottoms out.

“Feels good, huh sweetheart?” He traces your mouth with his thumb, teasing it.

“Yes. So fucking good.” You suck on his fingers, rocking back and forth on his lap. 

He fucks you like this, his feet planted on the bed, bucking his hips up into you at a steady pace. Suddenly, his phone rings, interrupting for a moment. He glances at it, his expression tensing, showing you the name displayed on the screen: Gojo Satoru.

"Answer it," you say, grinding on him with a wicked smile on your face. "Prove him wrong."

For a split-second, he looks at you like you're crazy. But something in him snaps, probably the same thing that made you so angry earlier. Sometimes, you just want to prove yourself right. 

He picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Gojo's voice rings out. "Nanami, I feel terrible. I said some inappropriate things to your girl - "

"Fuck me, Kento," you whine, bouncing on his lap as he thrusts up into you faster, entire body hot and electric with pleasure. 

Nanami has the phone in one hand and the other that was just in your mouth playing with your clit now. Through labored breaths, he says, "Sorry Gojo, I'm a bit busy being an absolute bore in bed. Isn't that right, kitten?" 

He holds the phone closer to you while you moan your boyfriend's name, your third climax of the night approaching quickly. "Kento, Kento, fuck me Kento!”

Satisfied, Nanami sets the phone down on the bed, gripping your hips to pound up into you, the squelching of his cock pummeling into your wet cunt so erotic and lewd. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna breed this slutty little pussy.” Over the edge now, he shoots his load inside you, letting out his own husky moans. He hastily lifts you off him to eat you out one last time, his cum leaking down from your cunt onto his chin as he sucks on your swollen clit until you come on his face, moaning obscenities incessantly. Completely spent now, you pull off him to cuddle, kissing each other messily as you both come down from your high. 

"Ahem." Gojo's voice startles you as you realize that neither he nor Nanami bothered to hang up the call. Horrified, the two of you wait with bated breath for his response, noting the suggestive ruffling in the background. "I apologize. I stand corrected."

[snowballseal]

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door. 

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look. 

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus’ shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!

[reidsworld]

Patience Wears Thin

Summary: Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Reader’s oblivious, mild language, sexual tension, slight jealous!logan, making out, hickeys, oral sex(m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, (semi) public sex (you’ll see what I mean), no use of Y/N, pet names (darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.9k

Mars speaks… It's been a while since I’ve posted but here we are!! Thank you for the request, this was kinda tough for me to write and didn’t really turn out how I wanted it but I hope it meets your expectations! The reader is a mutant but her powers aren’t specified. Any and all feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist

You were used to Logan’s gruffness, but lately, something had changed. At first, it was little things—him hanging around more often, offering to help with tasks that didn’t need his strength, or staying close by even when you were just making coffee. You noticed the way his hand would brush against yours when passing you something or how he’d rest his hand on your shoulder a little longer than necessary. Despite all of his actions, he was still cold around you, seemingly never able to escape his own grumpiness.

One evening, as you were getting ready for a date, Logan wandered by your room. His mood was clearly off as he knocked leaned against your door frame, his eyes closed and head tilted down. When you greeted him, he slowly looked you up and down. His expression shifted from frustration to shock as he took in how stunning you looked.

“Damn,” Logan said, his voice cold and deep, if you didn’t know him, you would’ve sworn he hated you. “You look incredible. Got a big night planned?”

You glanced up from the mirror, surprised by his comments. “Oh, I have a date tonight,” you replied with a smile, still adjusting your dress.

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly as he processed your words. “A date, huh?”

“Yep,” you said, focusing on your reflection. “I’m just trying to pick the right outfit.”

He pushed himself off the door frame, his gaze still fixed on you. “You don’t need to be worried about impressing anyone tonight, darlin’. Trust me, you look incredible.”

You laughed, thinking he was just being his usual flirtatious self. “Thanks, Logan. But it’s just dinner. Nothing too serious.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back, his demeanour now distant. “Right. Well, have fun.”

You smiled at him, not noticing the shift in his attitude. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

As you left for your date, Logan watched you go, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. The knowledge that you were going out with someone else hit him hard, and his mood darkened.

You were left puzzled by his sudden change in behaviour. However, in Logan’s mind, if you were going out with someone else, you clearly didn’t want him, so why should he put effort into a losing game?

But you didn’t think much of his compliments, chalking it up to Logan trying to be supportive. Until one day, you noticed something different—he started avoiding you.

It began with him skipping out on the usual training sessions you shared. Then, he stopped joining you for movie nights in the common room, always coming up with a vague excuse that didn’t make sense. He’d disappear for hours, not even leaving a trace of his familiar scent behind. The final straw was when he didn’t show up for your breakfast dates (well… that’s what they were to him), a ritual he never missed. It was confusing, and you couldn’t figure out what had changed.

You asked him once, in passing, if something was wrong. His answer was clipped, dismissive. “Nothin’ for you to worry about, darlin’.”

But you were worried. His behaviour was off, and no matter how much you replayed your interactions in your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered this sudden shift.

A few days later, you walked into the kitchen to find Logan grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Relief washed over you—this was the first time you’d seen him in days without him immediately bolting. But when you greeted him, he barely grunted in response, not meeting your eyes.

“Logan, seriously,” you said, trying to sound casual but unable to keep the concern out of your voice. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me.”

His jaw clenched, and he didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand. “Just been busy.”

“Busy?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Too busy to even say hello?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes hard. “Yeah, busy. I don’t have time for games, alright?”

“Games?” you echoed, thrown off by the accusation. “What are you talking about? I’m not playing any games, Logan.”

He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head as he pushed past you, brushing your shoulder as he went. “Forget it.”

That was it? He was clearly upset, but he wouldn’t talk to you about it. It didn’t make sense. You stood there, staring at the spot where he’d just been, confusion and hurt swirling inside you. Logan was the last person you expected to act like this—especially toward you.

A few more days passed, and the tension between you only grew. Logan’s avoidance became more blatant, and every time you tried to approach him, he’d find a way to leave before you could say anything. You started to wonder if you’d done something to upset him, but every time you asked, he brushed you off with a noncommittal grunt or a sarcastic remark.

It was driving you crazy.

Now you were sitting alone in the common room, you and Logan somehow being the only two in the mansion with everyone else out on various missions and overnight school trips. As you attempted to watch a movie to take your mind off things, Logan’s absence gnawed at you. He was always here for movie nights, even if he’d just sit silently in the corner. The emptiness of his usual spot was glaring, a constant reminder that something had shifted between you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to confront him, to find out what the hell was going on.

When you walked into the gym, your eyes immediately found Logan, his muscular form sitting on a raised bench, sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, focusing on his workout with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice firmer than you felt.

He paused, setting the dumbbells down with a heavy thud before finally looking at you. “What?”

“What is your problem?” you demanded, stepping closer, not giving him a chance to escape this time. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, and I want to know why.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off his face. “Maybe I’m just tired of tryin’,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Trying what?” You crossed your arms, frustration boiling over. “Logan, you’re not making any sense. You’ve been acting like I did something wrong, but I don’t even know what that is!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, maybe? But there was something else too, something deeper that made your heart race.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he growled, stepping closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

“Get what?” you shot back, refusing to back down even though his proximity was making it hard to think straight.

Logan huffed, his hand running through his hair in a rare display of frustration. “I’ve been tryin’ to show you, but you’re too damn blind to see it.”

“Show me what?” You were at your wit’s end, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding. “That I want you, darlin’. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, and I’m sick of you not seein’ it.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to say. Logan—gruff, no-nonsense Logan—wanted you? The thought was so far from anything you’d ever imagined that you couldn’t even process it.

“You…you want me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the frustration in his eyes palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to show ya, but you keep thinkin’ I’m just bein’ a grumpy bastard.”

You blinked, completely floored by his confession. “Logan, I…I didn’t know. I thought…”

“Thought I was messin’ with ya?” he finished for you, his voice rough, almost bitter. “That’s why I’ve been avoidin’ ya—figured if you couldn’t see it by now, I was just wastin’ my time.”

The weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t seen it, not because you didn’t want to, but because the idea that Logan could feel that way about you seemed impossible. And now, standing here, with him staring at you like you were the only person in the world, you realised how wrong you’d been.

“Logan, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t know. I never thought…”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, but still edged with frustration. “I’m just done waitin’, darlin’. I can’t keep doin’ this—dancin’ around it, hopin’ you’ll figure it out.”

You took a shaky breath, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think. “What do you want, Logan?”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that made your knees weak. “You, darlin’. I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time lost in that one kiss. The force of it stole your breath, your hands automatically reaching up to clutch his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

Logan’s grip on you tightened, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing your lips until you parted them, letting him in. The taste of him—smoke, whiskey, and something unmistakably Logan—filled your senses, making your head spin.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Still think I’m jokin’?”

You shook your head, your heart racing, your thoughts scattered. “No,” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before he started kissing his way down your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “’Cause I’m gonna show you exactly how much I want you.”

His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, making you gasp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, needing something to hold on to as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you and moving to sit on the bench. Your legs desperately straddled him, pulling him closer.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, skimming up your ribs, his touch igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t realised was there. He was careful, almost reverent, despite the rough edge to his movements, as if he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

When his hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra, you arched into him, a whimper escaping your lips. He growled, the sound low and primal, as his mouth found yours again, his kiss fierce and demanding.

You could feel the hardness of him pressing against your core, the friction sending waves of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but rock your hips against him, seeking more.

Logan’s response was immediate, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his mouth devouring yours as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You were lost in the sensation, in the heat and the intensity of him, and it was all you could do to hold on.

Just when you thought you might lose yourself completely, Logan pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild as he looked up at you. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice strained, as if it was taking everything in him to hold back. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. You shook your head, your voice breathless as you whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Logan let out a low, feral sound, his lips crashing against yours again as he ripped off your shirt. His patience had worn thin, and now there was no turning back. As your lips roughly moulded together, tongues battling for dominance, your hands slid under his tank-top, brushing over his abs. You pulled away, taking off his shirt, jaw dropping at the sight of his glistening body from the sweat of his workout.

“Holy shit, you should be shirtless more often…”

He didn’t respond, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers sliding down his happy trail. Climbing off him, you dropped down to your knees in front of him. He raised his hips as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing out and slapping against his stomach.

You didn’t give him time to process what was happening as you immediately licked a stripe up his dick before taking the head into your mouth, tongue brushing against the tip, making him throw his head back against the bench and groan.

Your hands gently massaged his balls as your mouth focused on the head of his cock, gently sucking as his hand moved to gather your hair into a make-shift ponytail. You lowered your head, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks.

Looking up through your lashes, your eyes met with his while you began to move your head up and down faster, your hands touching whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. You continued this until your jaw was aching and his dick was twitching in your mouth.

He began to gently thrust into your mouth, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. One of your hands slid down into your shorts, rubbing your clit before pushing a finger into your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so good darlin’,” he grunted as you moaned around him, slipping another finger into yourself.

“If you don’t stop now, m’gonna cum, wanna feel you ‘round me.”

He pulled you off of him, revelling in your dishevelled appearance. You stood up, and pulled off your shorts and panties. You reached behind you, unclipping your bra, letting it slide off your body. His eyes trailed up and down your body admiring you. You bit your lip at the way his eyes shined with something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you never wanted him to stop looking at you like that.

You silently moved to straddle him, pulling him into a slow kiss as your bare core grinded against his cock. One of his hands wrapped around you, trailing up and down your back as you both sat there, grinding against each other. His other hand reached down and grabbed your hip.

You raised your hips as you reached for his cock, positioning at your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. You leaned forward and he fell back against the bench and buried your face in his neck, letting out a simultaneous moan as you stretched around him. You stayed still, adjusting to his size, panting into his neck, making him harder than he thought possible.

Once you were ready, you slowly raised your hips before sinking back down onto him. His hands moved to grip your hips as you began to ride him, gently helping you. You kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the loud moans and groans coming out of your mouths. In that moment, neither of you cared where you were— that there was a chance someone could easily walk in on you even though it was just the two of you in the mansion. All you two cared about was the feeling of him inside of you and how you wrapped so tightly around him.

He let out a rough groan as your lips met his neck, biting into it when his hips met yours. Bouncing on his dick, you clenched around him, making him let out an almost feral sound.

“Oh fuck don’t stop, wrapped so tightly ‘round me, s’like you were made for me.”

“‘M all yours, Lo.”

“Shoulda never avoided you, shoulda just manned up and kissed you, ‘stead of waiting ‘round for you to realise that I want you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve laughed but all you could do was moan and nod into his neck.

“‘M gonna cum, Lo.”

“Give it to me, darlin’.”

His hand reached to roughly circle your clit, sending you over the edge. You moaned out as a feeling of ecstasy overcame you and your vision went white. Your body slumped against his but his thrusts were relentless. As they got sloppier, you could feel his dick twitch inside of you, making you moan.

“I’m so close, need to cum inside you.”

His mouth pressed against your neck, marking you like a blank canvas for everyone to see later. He pounded up into you, his hand still rubbing your clit causing you to cum for a second time. You tightened around him, making him shoot his cum deep inside you.

His thrusts slowed, fucking you through it as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. His movements came to a stop and he titled his head back, letting out a deep breath.

You raised your head, looking into his eyes and laughing,

“I can’t believe I could’ve had this so much sooner if I wasn’t so obvious.”

Mars speaks… (again) woah that got… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Tags… @pastelpinkflowerlife

[shitpostingsapphic]

Why I don't feel disappointed by Vi's arc, but you might

I usually have pretty strong and polarizing opinions when it comes to my takes on Arcane, but this is one where I wanna open up the discussion a bit more and invite people to my perspective, and it's fine if you don't see it this way.

I think there are two primary reasons why people feel disappointed by the arc of s2 Vi. The first, being that Vi had stronger voiced concerns about the state of Zaun in the first season. The second, being that she spent the whole show wanting to be with her sister and she didn't end up getting that.

Why I actually feel fulfilled in Vi's arc has to do with these two points, and I invite you to sit with what I have to say next.

Both of these parts of Vi have to do with her fatal flaw: her neglect of self.

We know two things based on what the creators have said about the show: the theme of Arcane is the cycle of violence, and the entire show was written together, instead of season 2 being written after season 1 production. From this, I can then ask: what do the creators want to tell their audience about this message, knowing they wrote it all out together, knowing the events of season 2 were very purposeful, using Vi as a conduit for that message?

If violence is a cycle, can one person defy it? No, of course not. At the start of Vi's arc, she wants to be a person that breaks it, though. She wants to change things in Zaun, wants a better life for her sister. As season 1 continues on, she wants to pick up where she left off with Powder without truly processing the gravity of the years between them. She thinks she can hold the world on her shoulders and fix any problem that comes her way. She thinks she can use her fists to make progress, thinks she can physically reach out and create change, but it only contributes to the cycle. And that's not because she's morally in the wrong when she does so, but she doesn't grasp yet that her fists can't fix everything. Vander tries to tell her as such in act 1, and it's a lesson that goes beyond just the literal application.

Vi's tendency to try and fix everything around her leads to her neglect of self. Inevitably, when you try to change things you have no control over, it leaves wounds. It leaves a person feeling like something is deeply wrong with them. And we watch Vi go down this spiral. I actually find myself really brokenhearted watching Vi in the first 2 acts, because I think she represents a lot of us: we see pain and devastation around us, but we don't know what the right thing to do is. We try different tactics and try to fix things and are left wondering why things feel worse than how they started.

I think that's something a lot of viewers could benefit to reflect on: I think in watching a show with strong political messaging, we yearn for a message that tells us the answers to these big problems. Truthfully, most of us don't have a fucking clue what we're doing. We want change but don't know how to see it through. That includes the writers. This isn't a show about the solution to political strife. It's about the cycle of violence. It's about not knowing how to change something that's been continuous throughout history in some form.

If we put ourselves in Vi's shoes, it would eventually take a toll on us to try and change something that isn't within our ability to change. Vi can't fix the problems in Zaun. Vi can't change the way time and distance and pain has warped her sister into someone else. In season 2 act 1, she's still trying to take responsibility for things that are outside of her control. She blames herself for the way Jinx has changed and has to tell herself that the only way to fix it is to end the cycle with her own fists. She teams up with Caitlyn because she's convinced herself it's the only way she can help. She sees how violence has devastated not only Zaun but innocents in Piltover as well, and she feels responsible for it.

BUT SHE IS NOT AT FAULT. And she cannot fix it any more than she could have created it.

Perhaps people may feel Vi's arc is lacking because they wanted to see more of her involvement in the revolution of Zaun. They wanted to see her be able to change the situation with her sister and for them to live happily together. But because of the circumstances surrounding both, for Vi to do so, she would inevitably lean into her fatal flaw. She cannot do either of those things without neglecting herself. That's not who she is.

The whole point of a character arc is for someone to be a changed person from beginning to end. If Vi starts out as someone passionate about enacting change to the point of self-destruction, what would a resolution for a character like that look like?

Vi needs to choose herself. Vi needs to release herself of the responsibility of changing the world. She can't do it. There are ways to contribute to positive change that don't involve putting the world on your shoulders, and Vi has yet to put herself first in any situation. Vi choosing love is how she does it.

Amanda Overton, one of the main writers that contributed to Vi's character and the Caitlyn and Vi dynamic and relationship, said about Vi: "If she has no one left to protect, she would fall in love". If Vi finally lets go of this crutch of hers to protect, to fight, to take responsibility for things that aren't her burden to bear, she would fall in love. She would finally be able to choose something for herself.

This is why I find her arc fulfilling. I feel like it's not an arc we really see a lot. It's not every day we have a character that starts out like the classic anime slash marvel protagonist, and instead of being the person that saves the world, they accept they're not a superhero and it's okay to choose love and personal happiness.

If it applies, and you're reading this, I want you to ask yourself: are you perhaps disappointed with her arc because you expected her to be the superhero? And would you be okay with accepting that she isn't and doesn't need to be? That it would be better for her to choose herself?

[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!!

[whomeidontknowthem]

okay but do you ever think about the inherit twisted intimacy of torture?

two people spending hours together, lost in the same process. fingers on your skin. the only voice you hear for days on end. the only presence you know. the closeness of having your skin be torn apart under their fingers. having another understand perfectly just how much pain you're in. having to rely on them to treat your wounds, being you water and food so you survive and heal. cry before them, break and have your every emotion on display. having them turn into your whole world.

do you get it?

and then -- the way the torturer can use it as another tool.

torture that leans into intimacy. hands stroking your hair as your warm blood pours out of you. soft whispers urging you to stay awake when the pain is overwhelming. strong arms holding you as you cry, those same arms holding you down as you thrush from agony. suddenly gentle fingers pulling your skin back together because you need to heal before you can take more. having your begging be answered with words of comfort that don't stop the torture. waking up to their gentle smile before the pain begins anew. hearing your name on their lips. taking all the comfort from someone who hurts you, because that's the only comfort you'd ever get.

or -- torture that is clinically, intentionally devoid of intimacy. no questions, no words spoken. the only touch you feel is that of the blade and the thick gloves. not being allowed to see their face. knowing no matter how much you beg not a single word of yours will be acknowledged. never being addressed until you forget that you're still a person. being trapped in a hell with not an ounce of comfort. isolation while still seeing someone daily.

or -- a torturer that combines the two. that goes from all the intimacy to none if you do something wrong or if their mood changes. they come in in gloves and you cry and beg to be acknowledged. constant anxiety from not knowing what kind of day it'd be. getting used to their hands closing your wounds before they're gone. breaking down and trying to do your best to fix whatever mistake you've made to have it back. getting used to no skin contact until they take off the gloves. flinching away from touch as if it burns only to immediately lean in. twisted gratitude when they hug you. always fearing losing what little comfort they give you.

you get it, right?

[writingwisterias]

Each Era of Leon finding out about your pregnancy:

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Self- Doubt, Light Angst, Drinking, Alcoholism, Depression,

RE2, RE4R, Infinite Darkness, Damnation, Vendetta, RE6, Death Island

RE2:

You found out before he was set to go to transfer to Raccoon City.

Leon went ahead before you, falling into his old drinking habits making him feel awful. He spent the night in a Motel as he frantically tried to find a living situation for you both before you moved out with him.

Once that was settled, he was due to start his new job, only to be faced with the events of Raccoon City. He spent the entire night thanking the heavens you hadn't come out to him yet.

It was radio silence from him for weeks, he had given you a panicked phone call asking you to move in with your parents and he would try to get back, news slowly filtered into your town about the nuke going off. With the pregnancy hormones, it was a rough first trimester.

You didn't actually get to tell him until he showed up on your doorstep looking different, his eyes were tired and almost looked empty like he was being haunted by something.

He sat you down in your room, talking to you about everything. His head was in your lap as he silently wept mourning the loss of his life he was so sure was going to happen.

You broke the news then, pulling out a box full of tests that you had kept.

He was silent at first. His eyes were puffy and red as he stared at the stick in his fingers.

He wanted to give you an over-the-moon reaction but his fear was justified, he had just seen nightmares...living nightmares and now he was meant to bring in a child to this world.

You knew about his promise to the government to protect that little girl, that is how you knew he was going to be a good dad...was still a good person even if he didn't seen it yet.

Before he was sent off to his training, with a final kiss he promised to come back to you no matter what...back to the both of you. His way of telling you he had accepted his new title and a silent promise that he would do everything in his power to be there for the both of you as much as possible. Even with the circumstances.

RE4R:

You had known Leon for a while meeting him in the office with Hunnigan as you helped her deal with the long night on the Spain mission.

Neither of you had actually made anything official, Leon wasn't in the right headspace for that title. Which is why it was a panic when you saw you were pregnant a week after he came back from Spain.

Apparently in your drunken celebrations of him not dying you both forgot about protection.

Leon was still being thrown into work so the only time you really saw him was around the office or before he was sent away. Yet he still noticed something was wrong.

You were running to the bathroom more often and spent breaks at your desk instead of the break room. Avoided certain foods he knew you loved.

Eventually, he felt the need to ask you. What better way to do that than to send an ominous text about him coming over.

You were nervous, panicking thinking he wanted sex and if you could even keep up with him due to your extreme amounts of fatigue.

He was chill when you answered the door, expression gentle...even smiling compared to the normal brooding look he displayed.

Then came the question 'Are you okay?'

Hormones got the best of you there and it all came spilling out. He took it like a champ bringing you into his body to comfort you. (I like to think after Ashley he became more open to physical affection if he initiated it.)

Suspect he's silent with shock as he tries to process things. Probably making you feel worse. Eventually, he talks explaining that he's happy for it and I think it would be the final push for him to actually commit to you and use titles.

Goes home and feels all giddy inside; he's still young and this just gives him something else to keep fighting for

Infinite Darkness:

He's not given up fully yet with life, still has a spring in his step but he's busy. Really busy.

In what others would say is the height of his career he wouldn't be able to commit to a relationship really, optionally sleeping around instead.

He's hot and he knows it

Ending with a similar situation to RE4 Leon where it's really unexpected. You find out whilst he's there though, I imagine the relationship he has with you is more friends with benefits.

You were going to do it that night anyway he just interrupted. You had taken the test and were waiting for the results when he knocked on the door.

You answered and forgot about the test on the side, both of you getting lost in the TV etc.

He went to the bathroom and saw the test, he saw the results first. However, he doesn't know if you are sleeping with anyone other than him so he doesn't say anything.

It's not until you go to the bathroom that you remember and have your own mini freak out. You come back into the living room, face paled and tears in your eyes.

He offers comfort anyway, being respectful and waiting for you to tell him if you want to.

It slips out anyway.

He's scared at first and goes slightly frigid. I don't think he's really in a place to want the child so he tries to be respectful and working on your terms.

Despite not being ready to enter a relationship I think he would do it for you, every other person is a one-night stand compared to you he comes back for more. Even promises to stop sleeping around.

You try a relationship, ignoring the pregnancy, to begin with until everything sort of clicks in place. When it does he's super excited.

Buying all the books and anything you might need; if he's going to work lots might as well spend it on making sure you and his babe get a good start.

RE6:

I'd say things are where his life really starts to tip. He's a fugitive for months, pretends to be dead etc and afterwards, I think it's where he starts to go downhill.

That being said, you are already in a relationship with him and have been for a while. He's not sure how he got you but he did. It's been about 2 years since you got together.

You know what he does for work and you both try to do what's best for each other and that works well for the both of you.

You find out before the beginning of RE6, meaning when you hear a knock on the door you expect to find him coming home with some corny joke only to be met with the flag and 2 agents.

You fall into a slump, trying your best to keep going for the little one he gifted you before he died; watching the horrors on the news wondering if it's even worth doing without him.

So when you get a knock on the door around 2 months into the pregnancy you are shocked, angry and happy. I'm surprised Leon didn't get whiplash.

You knew it was not his fault, he had no other option and you're very glad he's okay.

But you are mad...very mad.

He hates that he's done this to you, falling heavily into his drinking when you've gone to bed. For the pain he caused you and the events themselves still haunt you.

The relationship would have failed if it wasn't for the baby being in the equation. So he works to keep it under control and you slowly pull yourself out of the depression you fell into.

Slowly you work it out together, moving only forward until you calm down and are ready for the next chapter.

Damnation:

Poor guy barely gets his pussy breakfast with the amount he's still being sent out.

He's genuinely surprised he even made a child with the amount of quick fucks he's had with you instead of the long loving sessions he assumed he would have had should you both make the decision to start trying.

When you tell him at first he's over the moon, probably actually gives you the biggest reaction off the bat out of all the eras.

However, that's until he's left with his thoughts. You're laying in his arms, his hand is resting on your stomach and he starts to doubt himself.

He's thinking about if he would be a good dad, is he going to treat you well, can he commit to you as much as he would want to.

Full-blown panic mode

You noticed, of course you did. Always observant. And you force him to talk about, set aside the bottle and actually voice the concerns allowed.

Then once he's calmed, he'll go back to being happy. Already boasting about it at work.

Vendetta:

Despite this being the worst time period of his life. Where everything just feels too much. I don't think he would react negatively or refuse to accept it in any way.

I think he just thinks he won't be able to be a good dad and it sours his mood even further.

You both took the test together after you raised concerns about your period. He went out and got them, the whole ordeal feeling strange. His stomach is gurgling and swirling but not because of the alcohol for once.

He's so happy to be a dad that he is now just panicking about it but in a way where he's more worried for you. And what could go wrong with you.

At this point you are the one constant thing in his life, the only thing he keeps actually going for. Anyone could reference you when they mention a mission to him and he's all for it. You are the reason he keeps beating and going.

So he goes down the rabbit hole of the worst that could happen. Googling things, reading them in books, the doctors talking.

He's in Colorado not because he wanted to leave you alone but because he just needed a minute.

Chris helps him get up, trust that you'll be okay. And to fight one last fight.

When he does he's fighting for you and the baby, it's so worth it when he comes back. Arms full of things for you.

And he really kicks in to get sober now, to better himself for you and the baby, to ensure he can be the best dad he can be.

Death Island:

He was prepared for this. It's a little later than he wanted, but his life has never really been his.

When you proposed the idea he wasn't keen at first considering himself too old to have children, then he got carried away with his thoughts and he needed to do it.

Like he was insatiable until you were pregnant.

When you were, he was over the moon. Telling everyone the next day; sending you flowers and bringing home treats. You are a goddess now and he will treat you as such.

He's reading all the books and knows more than you at this point.

I feel like he's the type to try and cook food based on the baby's measurements that week and either he's a really good cook meaning it's great or it's just nice he tried.

He's getting all the adverts on Facebook etc about useful products and buying with other a second thought even if they are a scam.

He's already planning out the nursery with you. Like you need to take away his access to money at this point.

[ha-rinrin]

I want to say, I love your writes and content! If you still take requests... I've been a little sad lately. So I was wondering if you ever get a chance too, could you maybe do a Jinx and Reader taking care of a sad Isha? Like maybe she never left her tent that day and just stayed in bed. Oddly specific I know 😅, but anyways, I hope you are doing well and of course this request is up to you. Thank you!

Thank u so much for your kind words! honestly I loved the idea cause I've also been feeling a bit down, that why I've been MAI for the past week, I'm really sorry about that, theres been a lot going on but I’ll try harder to keep making more fics and fulfilling requests. I swear, hope you didn't forget about me ;)

masterlist

Not Alone

The hideout was quieter than usual, the hum of activity in the air replaced by an uncomfortable stillness. You glanced at Jinx, who had been pacing back and forth with an expression that didn’t quite match the usual spark in her eyes. She was tense, scared even.

"I just don’t get it," Jinx muttered, kicking a can across the floor. "Isha hasn’t come out of that damn tent all day. We’ve tried everything, and she’s not even talking to me. What if I messed up?"

You could feel her frustration, but there was something deeper in her voice—something vulnerable. Isha had always looked up to Jinx, so seeing her upset made both of you feel like you were walking on eggshells.

"I don't think it's you," you said, trying to reassure her. You knew Isha, even though she’s young, she has a sensitive soul. And the weight of the world on her small shoulders was probably taking a toll. "She’s just... struggling right now, Jinx. We just have to be patient. Let her come to us when she’s ready."

Jinx gave a quick nod, though the uncertainty still clouded her features. "But... she’s our kid, y’know?. If something’s wrong with her, we gotta fix it. I just... don’t know what to do." She stopped pacing and looked at you, a hint of desperation in her eyes. "I don’t want her to feel alone."

You stepped closer, offering a comforting hug. "She’s not alone. We’re here. We’ve always been here. She knows that."

Jinx wrapped her arms around you, but her eyes flickered toward the tent, her worry only growing. "She doesn’t even look at me," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. "She’s always been the one to follow me around, but now? It’s like I don’t even exist to her."

You could feel her anxiety, her need to fix it, but you knew it wasn’t something that could be fixed with an explosion or a loud gesture. You took a deep breath, breaking the hug to look at her, your hands still in her waist. "She’s not ignoring you. It’s not about you, Jinx. She’s probably just processing something on her own, and sometimes, that means shutting everyone out for a little while."

Jinx’s shoulders slumped slightly. "I just... I hate seeing her like this. She’s our kid. If something’s wrong, we’ve gotta do something."

You squeeze her waist, offering comfort before stepping back. "We are doing something. We’re here for her, and sometimes that’s all she needs."

Jinx nodded, but her worry didn’t completely fade. The silence felt heavy as you both approached the entrance to Isha’s tent. It felt wrong, this unnatural quiet that stretched between the three of you. 

Jinx hesitated before pulling the flap of the tent aside, revealing Isha curled up in the far corner. Her back was to you, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she was trying to make herself smaller. She didn’t even look up when the two of you entered, and the weight of that silence settled deep in your chest.

You took a step forward, softly kneeling down so you were closer to Isha’s level. You didn’t force words; you simply stayed close, just as you always had. You placed your hand gently on the floor beside her, not touching her, but offering comfort through your presence. You didn’t expect an answer, just the small gesture of showing her she wasn’t alone.

Jinx sat down beside her, offering the same quiet support. Her hand rested near Isha’s, close enough to offer comfort, but not intruding. She didn’t say anything at first—she knew that wasn’t what Isha needed right now. She just stayed there, silently sitting with her.

After a long, tense moment, Isha’s fingers slowly moved, her hand inching toward Jinx’s. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind both of you that she was still there, that she still cared.

Jinx gave a soft sigh, her eyes filled with relief. You smiled softly, a quiet moment of understanding passing between you and Jinx. Sometimes, the silence between you all spoke louder than anything else.

The moment stretched on, the quiet tension in the air heavy with unspoken thoughts. Isha’s fingers, which had barely brushed against Jinx’s, suddenly trembled. The next thing you knew, the subtle shaking of her shoulders turned into something more, her breath hitching as she finally broke down. Silent tears fell, leaving streaks down her cheeks as she clutched at her knees. The sight of her vulnerability cut through the stillness like a sharp knife, and you could see the raw hurt in her eyes.

Jinx’s heart seemed to crack at the sight of her kid crying, her protective instincts kicking in without hesitation. She immediately moved closer, pulling Isha into her arms with a tenderness that only the two of them shared. “Oh, kiddo,” Jinx whispered, her voice soft yet full of concern and sadness. She held Isha tightly, as if trying to shield her from the world and the pain she was carrying. Her fingers brushed through Isha’s hair, the gentle rhythm soothing in the silence.

You watched for a moment, feeling your own heart ache at the scene. You couldn’t help but step forward, reaching out. You lowered yourself in front of Isha, moving carefully to avoid startling her, and cupped her face in your hands. Her tear-streaked face was a raw reflection of the pain she had been holding inside.

With a soft, gentle touch, you used your thumbs to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face. It felt like the smallest thing, but in this moment, it was all you could do. Isha’s eyes flickered toward you, a flicker of gratitude or relief that made your chest tighten. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Jinx’s voice was barely a whisper as she continued to hold Isha, her own tears threatening to spill. “You don’t have to do this alone, kid. We’re right here with you. Always.”

Isha’s breath hitched again, but this time, it was quieter. Isha’s shoulders trembled once more, but this time, the tension seemed to ease. It was if she was allowing herself to trust the moment. Trust that you both were there, and that she didn’t have to keep everything inside anymore. Her breathing slowed, a quiet sign of relief.

You smiled softly at her, your hand still holding her face, and leaned in to place a tender kiss on her forehead. “You’re not alone, Isha,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth. “We’re right here, every step of the way.”

The three of you stayed there in the quiet, the world outside forgotten for the moment. There was something healing in the silence—something that told Isha that she didn’t have to carry her pain on her own anymore.

[alastorss]

hii!, hope you have a nice day<3, could I request alastor with a VERY VERY ticklish reader? with like alastor giving a hug to reader and him figuring out they’re ticklish (and using it to his advantage, fluff too!♡︎)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has tried everything he could think of, but your mood still hasn't improved.

He's resorted to the most humiliating scenario imaginable: knocking on Charlie's door and asking for her help while grinding his teeth. For you, he's swallowing his pride.

There's no discernible reason for you to be upset, nor has the Radio Demon been successful in finding a way to make your terrible crying stop.

You might as well plunge your hand into his chest and squeeze his heart until it stills. At least then he wouldn't have to feel this horrible ache just looking at your tears.

"Did you offer them their favourite food?"

"Of course I did."

Charlie thinks for a moment, hand on her chin. The Princess of Hell has a whole whiteboard of ideas going on how to make you feel better.

"How about hot chocolate? Hot chocolate always makes me feel better!"

"I don't think that's quite—"

"Oh! I know! What about singing a song? That always makes us feel better!"

Alastor's head tilts. While that was true, he's not sure the sentiment would exactly carry over.

"I... don't think so, my dear."

Finally, after filling the board with countless ideas and subsequently crossing them off, Charlie sighs and flops onto the couch next to him. "I give up. If only they could be cured with your hugs or something."

"... Hugs?"

Deathly silence fills the air as the Princess stares at him blankly.

"You... did try that, right?"

Alastor's ears twitch in lieu of an answer.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You've decided to hole up in your room again.

For whatever reason, it annoys Alastor. He hasn't been able to see your face all day, and as ridiculous as it sounds, he's become quite attached to you.

He doesn't bother knocking, instead opting to slip through the crack of your door in shadows and materializing beside your bed with a dimming smile.

You don't seem to stir at his sudden appearance, apparently used to his shenanigans.

"What do you want?" You murmur miserably from under your blankets, which are coiled up around you while you wallow.

"Come now, darling. It's a beautiful day in Hell! Why don't you join me for a stroll?"

He perches himself on the edge of your bed as you groan and pull the sheets tighter to your body.

"Go away, Al."

"Why, you've been absolutely pitiful, my dear. What's gotten you so down?" Reaching over, he peels the blankets away from your face so he can finally look at you.

There's a familiar throbbing ache of his heart when he sees your tears. When you don't answer, he sighs.

"Would a hug help?" He asks, trying not to cringe. He holds his arms open with a shaky smile. You blink at him with wide eyes.

"... Really?"

He hesitates, but then your eyes sparkle with the tiniest bit of wonder and happiness, so he surrenders. "Hurry and come here before I change my mind."

You shuffle across the bed, abandoning all your blankets and pillows in the process. After you've shed the layers, you slot into his arms.

At first he's stiff as a board, awkwardly patting your back. But then you relax in his arms, melting against him. Smile softening, he pulls you closer into his chest and squeezes.

Giggle.

Alastor's eyes fly open. Jerking back, he looks at you in bewilderment.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No!" You exclaim, slithering away from him.

"Are you... ticklish?" He asks, amused by your flustered expression.

"I'm not!" You lie through your teeth, squirming to put some distance between your bodies.

"Really, now~?"

He suddenly lunges at you, enveloping you again in his hold and purposefully poking at you with his fingers. You burst out into a fit of giggles, writhing to get away from him.

"Al!" You shriek with laughter. Shoving him away, you finally have a moment to catch your breath while you wipe away the tears gathering in your eyes.

Alastor reaches out, gentle this time, thumbs pulling at your smile. He admires it softly. As much as he hates to admit it, just seeing your face lit up fills him with relief.

"That's more like it, darling. Show me your lovely smile."

~

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