#this breakers teaser

[shiranui-k]

MAO and Kevin Blackwood’s match from Vendetta is now free on Youtube!!! Strongly recommend watching, its less then 15 minutes and well worth the time.

[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!!

[bugsbenefit]

who's getting books and who isn't?

tells you a lot actually

in lieu of us getting a Dustin companion book soon i'm doubling down on my point about how insanely telling these books are about where the story is going. especially if you look as who is getting books. and i'm saying this both about El and Will (where it's already kind of obvious why s5 is important for them) as well as Mike (where it's also kind of obvious why s5 is important for his character but it hasn't reached mainstream awareness yet apparently lmao)

as of now Lucas, Max, and Dustin (about to come out), as well as Robin and Eddie, and even Hopper and Terry have one. and they all explore things outside of the main canon by doubling down on what filmed canon already established and adding a bit more layers since they have the time to focus on a single character (like exploring racism and how Lucas deals with it in his book, something the show doesn't dwell on, or exploring Robin's queerness, taking place before the events of s3)

and the focus these books have makes sense since they're mostly written by commissioned writers. so obviously they want to skirt any topics that delve too much into plot heavy areas where the writers a) wouldn't know where the story is going or b) even if they got notes, you don't want important lore drops that impact the later story dropped in companion books

in short we're getting extra story's about no spoilery topics the main story doesn't have time to/want to explore

which makes it all the more interesting we're already getting books about someone like Robin when you know if you asked fans what povs they'd like to see someone like El would rank significantly higher if you trust favourite character rankings. but for some reason El, Mike, and Will have never gotten one

and some of these reasons are just really obvious, especially when it comes to El and Will

1) they obviously can't just drop a book on El yet. on one hand, because her backstory with the lab is a major plot point of the show and they can't spoil it in a book (even if they tried excluding it, writing 200ish pages for a character who can't remember what happened before they turned like 8 is one of those things that would be kind of hard to avoid coming up). even post s4 there's still so many questions about her past and time at the lab, they just shouldn't give unlimited access to her inner monologue about it yet. and on the other hand, El finding her place in the world is quite literally one of her characters main recurring motives, even a companion book as innocuous as "El tries out hobbies" would be exploring something we'd kind of want to see on screen since it'd be a resolution to her character growth and not a fun side quest

2) they also just can't drop a book on Will. the fact that we never found out what actually happened to Will in the UD is already reason enough, the show clearly wants to explore it on screen later on. (now even more obvious since there's already confirmed s1 UD Will in the s5 official teasers). you really can't write a book from someone's pov who's main trauma and life changing moment is something you don't want to get into yet. just doesn't work

there's plot points the show obviously saved for later so both Will and El are pretty unfit as book topics

but with Mike that doesn't actually apply in the same obvious way. Mike not getting a book despite being the leader of the party, having the most on screen defined dynamics with the other kids, and being part of the shows "main" ship would be really odd. like. Really odd. on paper he'd probably be one of the first choices for an easy book protagonist for a fun party side quest. of course unless one of the two book deal breaker reasons applies also:

they can't give his pov because giving his unfiltered inner monologue would spoil s5

they want to explore something relevant to his character themselves on screen and it's not fit for a companion book

but again, in comparison to Will and El where the why is really obvious Mike sticks out because we don't officially know what he's got going on yet. he has no mysterious absence where we don't know what happened to him like with Will and no open ended origin story like with El

it just makes it a bit funnier to me how many people are still fundamentally unconvinced Mike has something going on that's important for the outcome of s5. post s2 the show tries to get some distance from Mike's head and he's joined the club of main characters who don't get books alongside major canon event magnets El and Will. and yeah, obviously you wouldn't want a book from the characters pov who's feelings and sexuality you're actively hiding. it's also a bit of a no brainer you don't want a companion work going into how he's not been doing so great over the past few years because the reasons for that are kind of relevant to the main story. Mike feeling guilty for El dying all the way in s1 is something that might be more fit to bring up in show when their relationship is being addressed instead of in side material

but all in all? the fact that out of all the kids El, Mike, and Will are the only ones who don't get secondary material yet is probably the biggest give away that the three of them are who s5 is planning to give the most insight on even all the in show build up aside. they're being skipped as book povs despite existing public interest and seeming like conventionally easy picks for book side stories

in the current economy around shows franchises, going against what'd be a good marketing decision is always a dead giveaway something is going on

[jaylver]

LOVE AT FIRST SPEED — L.HS (TEASER!)

SYNOPSIS: World champion, record breaker, winner of hundreds of races, what does Lee Heeseung want other than that? Apparently, love. Being the greatest doesn't mean that he's doing well. Even though there were many girls already lining up for him, he knew none of them were truly sincere. Constantly alone and devoid of love, he craves it unconditionally. That was until everything changed when he met you, his new next door neighbour that doesn’t even know he’s a famous f1 racer. (subjected to change)

OR! in which a world champion tries scoring the girl next door.

PAIRINGS: F1 driver!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers/neighbours to lovers, love at first sight, formula one au, sports au, romance

WARNING(S): profanities, heeseung is a certified loverboy, partying (more to be added)

RELEASE DATE: READ HERE

TAGLIST CLOSED.

TAGLIST: @silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @seongclb @hepli @jayfrvr @jiawji @acciocriativity @m3chigo @in-somnias-world @ren4luv @k1ttylvr @pluviophilefangirl @skzenhalove @deobitifull @ipoststuffandyeah @shinkenprincess-oh @wvnkoi @renaishun @mars101 @kgneptun @rikisly @soobnisms @noascats @velvtcherie @httpsneptvnn @asteria-wood @jihanlovic @heeseungshim @lilriswife4life @aylin-hijabi @noirxraa @classicroyalty @sseastar-main @eskopiganja @wyeri @pearlwsworld @mimisamisasa @enhastolemyheart @zerasari @3amstarlight @dimplewonie @fluerz @philijack @redm4ri

© jaylver all rights reserved.

– MONTE CARLO, MONACO, 2023

Lee Heeseung was drunk.

Going out with the boys was probably a mistake. Look, it was off season and everyone was back in Monaco, so it definitely sounded like a great idea to go out for a night out, right? Wrong. 

Letting Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Yeonjun and some of the other drivers drag him to a well known club in the city was his first mistake of the night. The second was accepting all of the shots they offered, acting as if the celebrations of him winning his third world championship wasn’t over yet. The alcohol that took over his senses only made him stumble to the dance floor, dancing wildly with girls surrounding him, not giving a care if a camera was capturing everything. That was his third mistake.

By the end of the night, every one of them were equally shitfaced. It wasn’t a great look, and he was sure their personal trainers weren’t going to be happy at all. Heeseung, in particular, was taking it better than the rest, though still slurring and stumbling around, at least he managed to tell his address fully to the taxi driver. 

Getting dropped off at the lobby looking absolutely destroyed was humbling. He kept his head low, reminding himself that he had a reputation to maintain and went for the elevator, pressing the number of his floor. He was leaning against the wall, holding it for support as he slowly sobered up, trying his best to feel around his body for his keycard.

“Fuck,” he cursed out, unable to remember where it was with that hazy mind of his. 

The elevator stopped at his floor with a ‘ding’, grabbing his attention from his ongoing search for the moment. He trudged along the quiet hallway, dragging his feet and mumbling his regrets. One thing’s for sure was that he should not rely on Jake for claiming it was a ‘light party’. Light party my ass.

Standing in front of his door to the apartment, he was dying to get in and crash into his comfortable bed. However, he remembered what he was struggling to find: his keycard. God, why me, he thought. 

His head was beginning to spin and it was not helping. He was slipping his hand into his back pockets, shirt pockets that didn’t even exist because he’s wearing a button up, then his socks, which was absolutely insane. No, Lee Heeseung was turning insane. At one point, he let out a sigh and leaned his head on his door, swearing that he was about to collapse out of fatigue.

“Uh—are you okay?” Was that a voice coming from the pits of his head? It couldn’t be, it was a woman’s voice. “Mister?”

Heeseung turned around in a blink of an eye, almost letting out a yelp in shock when his eyes landed on you. Even in his drunken daze, he was still able to make out how pretty you were. There you were, standing in a party dress that was enough to tell him you were out clubbing too, makeup that was intact and heels in one hand, creating a small height difference between him and you.

“Huh?” That was probably the dumbest thing he could let out at that moment. Wake up, he cursed at himself. “You’re not that old lady,”

“She moved away,” you guessed he was referring to the old lady that sold you her apartment, the one that was next to this … guy. “I’m guessing you were not here a few months ago to even realise I’m your new neighbour?”

Well, no, Heeseung was busy winning his championship in Abu Dhabi during then. 

He didn’t say that though, instead he shrugged, liking the fact that you were oblivious he was someone well known. “I travel for work, so not really. My apologies,”

“I see,” you nodded your head, continuously cautious, he could see that. “Do you have trouble entering your own home?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You were searching for something—even in your socks,”

“Oh,” he licked his lips, currently embarrassed. “I—uh—don’t know where my keycard is,”

“Have you searched your pockets?”

“Yes,”

“Wallet?”

Heeseung paused. “No …”

“Try searching, I’m sure it’s there somewhere,” you were so confident in saying that, which made Heeseung uneasy and doubtful. How would you know it was there and he didn’t? 

You pulled out your own keycard, pressing against the sensor and your door unlocked with a click, but before you went in and left Heeseung behind, you scrunch your nose up. “You should probably sober up … and also wash away the perfumes on your shirt. It’s heavy,”

Once you shut your door, Heeseung scoffed. He lowered his head to the sleeves of his button up shirt and inhaled, the smell of perfumes from the girls he danced with clung to the fabric desperately. He hated that you weren’t completely wrong. Then, he reached for his wallet, rolling his eyes at your voice in his head, but was once proven right again when he saw his glistening keycard there. For fuck’s sake.

Now, he was guessing he probably set a bad impression on you, making you think he was some stupid womaniser. Gosh, the way your eyes narrowed at him was burnt into his mind. 

Heeseung was not getting much sleep that night.

. . . to be continued !

[starboye]

movies

(fics ive made)

*updated regularly

smut = ★

angst = 🏹

fluff = 🍥

Rafe Cameron-

First Timer★

Dealer!Rafe Cameron★

The Cameron Boys★

A Night to Remember★

Please be Mine★

Satisfaction★

Sleepy Convos★

Risky Call★

Morning Rafey★

Jj Maybank-

Yard Worker!Jj Maybank★

Double Team★

Nate Jacobs-

jealousy, jealousy★🏹

brat★

A Feeling Unknown🍥

My Cum Toy★

Nick Nelson-

Cheater★🏹

Cheater pt2★🏹

Cheater pt3★🏹

Cheater pt4🏹

Charlie Bushnell-

Fair Date★🍥

Vinnie Hacker-

Streamer Head★

Drunk Fun★

Sly Boy★

Birthday Present★

Bryce McKenzie-

Addicted★

Kj Apa-

Model★

Breed Me★

Free Use★

Baby By Me★

Matt Sturniolo-

Beach Day🍥

Morning Horny★

Quickie★

Movie Night Teaser★

My Nerdy Boy★

First Time★

Harry Collett-

Video game Lover★

Charles Leclerc-

Need Love★

Chris Sturniolo-

Gamer🍥

Movie Night Gone Right★

You're Mine★

Overstimulation★

Stream Tease★

David Corenswet-

Daddy's Boy★

Manu Rios-

Work For It★

Harry Styles-

Make Up or Make Out★🍥

Ross Lynch-

Double Trouble★

Dylan Minnette-

Double Trouble★

Shower Time★

Steve Rogers-

First Date★🍥

The Boys-

Table Talk★

Drew Starkey-

Hot Jealousy★

An Award of my Own★

Your Brothers Best Friend★

Nico Greetham-

Sweaty Love★

Noah Beck-

Rough Love★

Chris Hemsworth-

My Boy★

John B-

Double Team★

Prince Henry-

My Good Side🍥

Ryan Reynolds-

Tease★

Brady Hepner-

Wild Side★

My Use★

Sam Golbach-

Newly Weds★🍥

Colby Brock-

Newly Weds★🍥

Tanner Buchanan-

Edged★

Chris Evans-

Lesson Learned★

Ryan Garcia-

Breakfast in Bed★

Ethan Landry-

Ghost 🏹

Eijiro Kirishima-

Gamer Fuel★

Katsuki Bakugo-

Gamer Fuel★

Jacob Elordi-

Free Use★

Jack Harlow-

A Want★

Scott Summers-

Time Fucked★

Stiles Stilinski-

A Dream Cum True★

Richard Madden-

Work Pet★

Steve Harrington-

Gay For You★

Hughie Campbell-

Shy Boy★

Bellamy Blake-

Supply Collectors★

Jensen Ackles-

Hard Worker★

Prince Ben-

New Kid★🍥

Harry Hook-

New Kid★🍥

Rudy Pankow-

My First Time★🍥

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

Bf Headcanons★🍥

Phone Sex★

A Gift★

Captain Price-

Bratty★

Chace Crawford-

Co-Star Fun★

Bill Skarsgard-

Affair★

Dick Grayson-

Wounds★🏹

Robby Keene-

Winner Winner★

Noah Centineo-

Bed Breaker★

Jake Gyllenhaal-

Spiderman Far From Done★

Tom Holland-

Spider Man Far From Done★

Wolverine-

Fucked Senseless★

Hole Used★

Deadpool-

Hole Used★

Joe Goldberg-

My Husband🏹

Lip Gallagher-

New Feeling🍥

Rome Flynn-

My Bitch★

Joe Burrow-

Letting Off Some Steam★

Charles Melton-

Gym Bros★

[usiel21]

Okay so my take on the season 2 teaser.

Love the wolf statue, Evidently in honour of Enid beating the Hyde and helping save Nevermore.

Enid. I have mixed feelings about the hair, whilst I don't hate it I'm going to miss how her hair looked in season 1, having more colour, bangs and it looking a bit more ruffled was not on my bingo card lmao also looks shorter too.

Overall it looks more realistic, you can tell her hair in season 1 was not natural in the way it flowed in the wind

She has a rainbow heart in her dorm. Enid please just admit you love her already FFS.

I think the musical number will have something to do with the new music teacher. Also Wednesday smiling whilst singing??? Two things come to mind

She's smiling because it's not a part being filmed and thats Jenna between takes.

Or

She's smiling because it was a spell of some kind and she could be singing about Enid maybe ?

Enid with the black nail is now fucking confirmed LETS GO

Also I swear Enid's hair now has some black in it??? She's imitating Wednesday in so many ways now. God she's in love. Stop giving her boyfriends netflix!

Enid without her scars is something I can live with. Emma found the makeup for them so uncomfortable. Not a deal breaker for me honestly, I will miss the idea of her having them but honestly I think werewolf healing will be the explanation.

The fact we didn't see Enid and Wednesday in the same shot is fucking damn right criminal

If I end up having any more thoughts I'll post em.

[sailorrhansol]

Storm Breaker | Teaser (l.jh)

❀ Pairing: Lee Jihoon x reader  

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

❀ Word Count: ~23k

❀ Genre: SciFi, Rivals to Lovers  

❀ Type: Pacific Rim AU, Smut, Angst

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

❀ Warnings: TBD

❀ A/N: A fun little project me and @daechwitatamic decided to collab on :) coming to a Shatterdome near you soon. Also - this is set in the Pacific Rim Universe but I'm writing it in a way that you will not need to have seen the movie to understand.

❀ Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

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

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀

Read Full Fic Now

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

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

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

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he hates you for it.

-

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

[artificial-transmutations]

Out Now: Dam Breakers

Hello everyone! I'm extremely excited (and, quite frankly, more than a bit nervous) to announce that I finished my fantasy romance novel Dam Breakers!

For the very TLDR-version: It is available here! Be sure to read the disclaimer below, though.

First of all, thank you! Everyone who reads my stories or likes them shows me that there is at least some interest in my mediocre writing. And even though the novel is not exactly like my stories here (more to that later), it gives me hope that you and other people might like it.

Now, for the actual novel!

Dam Breakers is the tale of Jared, a rather normal modern day college student, and Aleron, an apprentice mage living in a secluded tower with his teacher. One fateful day, they meet and are drawn into a maelstrom of magic, change and love - and dark secrets threatening to destroy everything they loved.

With over 120000 words, this is not only my longest story yet, but also my most carefully crafted one. I will attach an image of my Obsidian graph for the story at the end of the post.

Disclaimer:

As I have mentioned, it is a bit different from the stories I usually post here. First and foremost, it's a lot tamer. This novel isn't meant as a porn piece, but as an intriguing fantasy and romance tale. While there is love, desire and sex, of course, it's way more sparse and less explicit than, for example Closer Than Flesh.

It also features transformation themes, and the concept of change is one of the main focus points of the book, but, again, don't expect 500 pages full of transforming bodies because of it :)

And, finally, for a multitude of reasons, it does not contain AI generated images. I wouldn't be able to generate any that do the story justice, anyway.

Now that you know what not to expect, here are some things you MAY expect:

Transformation. Both in the sense of bodily changes but intriguing character development as well.

Gay Love. This is a story about two men from different worlds falling in love with each other, and their stony road to being together.

Magic. It's a fantasy story, and a truly enchanting one at that, with a fresh concept of magic and change.

Story. Last, but certainly not least, it's a good and interesting read, at least according to my opinion. Since I might be a bit biased here, let me tell you that my beta readers agree.

If you still want to read it (and I hope you do!), then you can grab your copy here:

If you are not in the US, you can just replace the .com with, for example, .co.uk to go to your local Amazon marketplace

I have not forgotten, of course, that I promised a special condition for you folks at Tumblr. Since Amazon makes it a bit difficult to actually implement that, I plan to offer a time limited discount or giveaway in a few weeks. I'll announce the exact time here on my blog beforehand.

If you really want to support me, it would mean a lot to me if you could leave a review on Amazon. That influences the algorithm a lot and helps the book get visibility, which is incredibly important . So, please, if you like the book, leave a review.

Teaser / Preview (mild spoilers)

And here is a short look into the book, from chapter 4. It contains some mild spoilers, but nothing too important. I also added an AI image, which is not in the book (see above).

[...]

Even though the weather was unstable, Jared enjoyed the journey through the vibrant spring land. It was a closeness to nature he had never experienced. Even back home with his parents, in rural Texas, the land had seemed different. Back there, the wilderness had been tamed decades if not centuries ago. There was no wonder, no adventure. Here, there were hills and forests, rivers and bogs, and who knew what else. It was as if Jared was seeing the world for the first time. Not to mention the smell. Jared could not remember a time when he had smelled the spring air like this.

In addition to the landscape, Jared's traveling companion also played a big part. Aleron was an intelligent and witty conversationalist, and Jared learned a lot about his new friend. They spoke of everything under the sun, and Jared told stories of his home, of modern inventions and the differences between this world and his. Even though Aleron was fascinated by his tales, he was also clearly skeptical about some of them, especially when it came to the more complex topics. That was only fair, though, as Jared himself had a hard time believing the fantastic stories of this world, even after having experienced some with his own eyes. Dragons, for example. It didn't matter how often Aleron recited what little information he had about those magnificent beasts, something in Jared resisted fully believing in them. He hoped that he would be able to see one of them for real - although Aleron repeatedly stressed how dangerous they were - in order to be able to fully believe in them.

While Aleron's world was certainly magical, it wasn't all like in the Lord of the Rings. There were, for example, no other humanoid races, as Jared learned. No elves, dwarves or orcs, at least to Aleron's knowledge, which, to be fair, mainly included the Kingdom of Myrthien. Although the Whispering Woods were not technically a part of Myrthien, and were generally considered wilderness, it was clear that they were no part of another nation either. The closest neighboring country to the Whispering Woods would either be the Golden Isles beyond the coast south of Eldoria or the Verdant Lands to the west. According to Aleron, the Verdant Lands couldn't really be considered a nation, too. It was more of a loose confederation of tribal communities, living in the characteristic dense forests of that region.

As Helena had promised, Luminara wasn't difficult to find. The capital of Myrthien was well known and if there was a sign post somewhere, it was sure to point to Luminara.

There was no shortage of smaller and bigger settlements, and about every third or fourth night they were able to sleep in beds. During the other nights, they made camp a bit off the road in order not to attract too much attention. It was one of those nights, about two weeks after they had left Eldoria, that Jared woke up in the middle of the night. Aleron, who was sleeping next to him, was moving in his sleep and occasionally made a sound, which had caused Flicker to gain a bit of distance to the sleeping man.

It was clear to Jared that his friend was dreaming, and he briefly considered waking him up from his nightmare. However, judging by the sounds, Jared began to suspect that Aleron was not having a nightmare but quite the opposite, although the dream seemed to be just as intense.

Quietly, he left the tent, careful not to wake the sleeping mage. Outside, he was greeted by the stars and a clear sky with an almost full moon. The campfire was almost dead, just a few embers and ashes were left. It was a quiet, peaceful night, and Jared decided to go to the nearby lake to drink. Aleron had never once shown a single sign of sexuality before, except for demonstrating a certain uneasiness around nudity and related topics. He never had commented on any woman - or man - in a suggestive way, so Jared had been half- convinced that this whole topic didn't have any relevance to the mage at all.

Of course, for his own reasons, Jared had avoided the subject as well, so, perhaps Aleron thought the same about him. Jared didn't mind that. As magical as this world was, he had yet to encounter a single sign of same-sex attraction. Perhaps this wasn't a thing here, biologically, or perhaps it was socially frowned upon, like in his world's medieval ages - or rural Texas, present day. In any case, there was absolutely no reason to bring that topic up, so he didn't. Not bringing up his sexuality was a sport he was very experienced in for 9 years straight now, after all.

As Jared neared the lake, he was feeling weird and tingly all over. It was not entirely unpleasant, but it stirred a vague memory in Jared. He had felt this feeling once before, but he couldn't quite recall when.

When he bent down to scoop some water into his hand, he stopped before his fingers touched the surface of the lake. The moon was bright, and Jared could see his reflection in the mirror-smooth water quite well. The only problem was that it was not him who was looking back at him.

Of course, there was a strong resemblance, but the details weren't right. His face looked somewhat stronger, his jawline a bit squarer. His hair a bit lighter and styled like the day he first stepped out of the mirror. On his chin, there was a short well-groomed beard even though he had shaved just last morning. It wasn't just his face, though. As he looked down on himself, he looked fitter than he should, as if he was visiting a gym regularly. In fact, the definition of muscle on his torso increased further, just as he was watching. Suddenly, the wonder was replaced by fear. He had felt that way before, and now he remembered when. It had been during his first visit to Aleron's world, when his body was 'destabilizing' as Aleron had put it. Given, the feeling had been stronger then, but it was definitely the same. And now, his body was changing again, and he was weeks of travel from the magic mirror.

Half-panicking, he sprinted back to the tent, not caring about being quiet anymore. Perhaps Aleron knew what to do! He ducked into the entrance and called out to the mage.

"Aleron, wake up!"

Almost immediately, the apprentice jolted awake. "Jared? What is wrong?"

"I... don't know, it's me. Look at me!"

After a few words of encouragement, Flicker began burning brighter, allowing them to see in the tent as well. Aleron looked at the half-naked Jared critically for a few moments before asking: "Okay... what am I looking for?"

"Can't you see? I'm..." However, as Jared looked down on himself, everything was fine again. He was looking at his plain old self, just as he should look like. The tingling feeling was gone, too.

"Oh." Jared felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden. "I... must have been imagining things."

[...]

If you liked the teaser, be sure to give the whole thing a read :)

Let me close with another whole-hearted Thank You for your continued interest!

Stay awesome!

And here, as promised, a peek at the creative complexity of the story:

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 4 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 18.2k

A/N: It's finally here oh my lord. Once again so sorry my writing takes so long these days but I'm so excited about this chapter. Thank you for the suggestions I got after I dropped the teaser, really appreciate all the help and it got my mind back into writing mode again. After this there's only one part left, but its going to be fun so don't fret. Really hope you enjoy this part, please let me know what you think. Thank you so so much for reading. Enjoy x

| My Masterlist | 

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

The run up to Christmas was fun. Fucking Alex every other day of the week had been a surprisingly needed stress relief that a month ago you would have never foreseen. Usually the run up to Christmas had you stressed for no reason in particular but this year with your stresses finally being relieved every other night it was so much better than other Christmas breaks you’ve had in a long time. 

Alex had certainly been making the most of your arrangement. It was him texting or calling you asking, “Are you free tonight?” Which may as well be directly translated to ‘Do you want to fuck me tonight?’. Every single time you said yes, not depriving yourself of such simple pleasures and it led to you having a very relaxed holiday season. 

And now Christmas is over and done with, you were excited for tonight’s New Year’s party. So much so that you couldn’t sit at home and just wait to get ready, you ended up texting Katie and asking her if you could help her set up and thankfully she said yes. 

For the past hour you’ve been listening to music and hearing the Cook's Christmas stories of Forest getting all excited when he opened each present. She showed you a couple of videos before Jamie took the little man out for the afternoon while you both got the house ready for tonight. 

Your catch ups are the best and you adore your best friend so much. The gossiping and the giggling never ceases and you’re forever finding new things to talk about, it’s a miracle you’ve not discovered everything there is to know about each other after a decade of being best friends. 

But it turns out there are some things you are yet to discover. Like a certain holiday that was being planned. 

“You’re coming on the impromptu trip away with us, right?” Katie asks, a little out of the blue as if she’s just remembering as she unpeels the Happy New Year banners from each other and handing one to you. 

“Depends, when?” You tell her, knowing the dates of this trip will be the deal breaker if you can go, “I’m back in work on the ninth, remember?”

You’ve joined the Cooks on impromptu trips away before, both with their family and their friends. You’re always invited, which you find thoughtful of Katie and knowing that these trips tend to be very random, you’d started saving money for such events so you didn’t find yourself missing out. The only time you denied yourself was when the trips clashed with work which you hope isn’t the case this time. 

“Oh, we come back on the seventh.” Katie grins, very pleased with what you’ve just said, “You’re coming.” 

“Yeah,” You find yourself giggling at her, knowing she probably wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway. You continue putting up the party decorations as you tell her, “Just let me know how much it is and I’ll scramble it together.”

“Oh no, Alex is paying for us all,” She tells you, as she seems to be having a hard time stretching the balloons out to start blowing them up, “You just need spending money.” 

You immediately frown hearing that, bluetacking the banner on the wall and turning towards your best friend to ask, “What?”

“Alex is paying.” She tells you, “It’s for his birthday. Has he not told you about it yet?”

“No, he’s not mentioned it.” You tell her. 

You figure it’s best to neglect mentioning how the singer only talks to ask how you are before he ends up saying the filthiest things into your ear as he fucks you senseless. Holidays and other things normal friends would talk about are not on the cards. 

He comes over. You fuck. He leaves. Interaction complete. 

“Oh well, he probably expected me to ask you.” Katie shrugs, not thinking much of it, “But yeah don’t worry about the money, he’s paying.”

You’ll see about that, you think as you continue helping your best friend decorate, putting the singer out of your head for the time being. 

~*~*~*~

I need to speak to you 

You text the singer as you’re walking home from Katie’s. You thought about just leaving it but you know if you keep what you're feeling bottled in it will just make you go back into your shell when you’re around him, and that’s the last thing either of you want. 

Thankfully those thoughts don’t have enough time to fester because about 2 minutes later Alex texts you back. 

Christ

Am I in trouble? x

His response makes you roll your eyes as you can practically hear him asking you. You know for a fact he will have snorted when he got the message through and when he typed that one back to you. So you keep him in limbo for a bit. 

You’re not funny 

Phone me when you’re free. 

Thankfully you’re not waiting for ages for the call. Your phone starts ringing as you turn the corner and head down your road. It’s a little embarrassing how excited you are to get back in your house for a bit and just relax until the party later. 

After greeting him, Alex gets straight to the point, “What’s up Y/N?”

“About this holiday,” You start, “Katie told me she wants me to come and I want to know how you feel about that before I start to spiral.”

You can already sense the panic in your chest as you feel like you’re at a bit of a stalemate. You don’t want to let Katie down but you’re also definitely not going to go if Alex wants a break from you. You don’t want to intrude on his holiday. Especially one that’s for his birthday. 

“Don’t spiral.” Alex begs, and you swear he’s also outside as you can almost hear the way he takes a drag of a cigarette before he says, “The last thing we need is you spiralling and questioning everything again.”

You can picture the smile tugging at his lips as he says that. So much so that him finding your panic amusing means that you silently want to scorn him. 

“I’m well aware of that.” You say a little bit too bluntly, so you attempt to soften the blow when you follow up with a rhetorical, “Why do you think I asked you to call me?”

Alex definitely mutes a laugh, covering it by him pretending to clear his throat. To make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble he distracts you by asking, “What’s panicking you now?”

“The holiday.” You take a deep breath before you start to vent your worries, “Apparently it’s for your birthday, I don’t know if you want me there with what’s going on with us. The fact that you’re apparently paying... I don’t want you paying for me if I come.”

“I did tell Katie to invite you if she wanted to.” Alex reveals. 

“That’s not the point. Do you want me there?” You ask him directly, “I don’t want to intrude on a holiday that’s for your birthday.”

Alex takes a second to answer that, not because it’s a difficult answer but mostly because he wants to know, “If we weren’t sleeping together would you come?”

You think about it for a second and realise that you probably would, but not without speaking to him and asking Katie at least 30 times if you were actually welcome. Not to mention trying not to interact with him much when you were out there. And you certainly would not be allowing him to pay for you. 

“I still would have double checked with you first, or got Katie to. But that doesn’t matter, it’s different now,” You start talking about your reality again, “The dynamic has changed.”

“Y/N, we were friends anyway,” Alex sighs and you’re glad he can’t see the way your face contorted in disagreement. “The only thing that’s different this time is that we’ve seen each other naked.” 

You almost scoff. 

You’ve done a lot more than see me naked, sir. 

Feeling flustered at the memories of him fucking you flooding back to your mind, you just get back to the point, “So, do you want me there or not?”

And you listen to his response as you unlock your front door and get into your house. Feeling the absence of the chill from outside makes the singers answer all the more bearable. 

“I just want you to do whatever you want to. You can come and have a holiday. I don’t expect anything from you if that’s what you’re worried about.” Alex says sincerely, before adding, “And I am paying.”

“I don’t want you to pay Alex,” You whine like a child not getting their own way. But you add honestly, “It makes me uncomfortable.”

And it’s not even just because you’re fucking him, although that is your main concern. It’s the fact that you’ve barely known him properly before now (and you still wouldn’t say you were all that close in any way but physically), you can’t in your right mind let him spend thousands on a skiing holiday for you.  

“Y/N, I didn’t invite you to make you feel uncomfortable.” The singer sighs, feeling like you should know this already. 

He’s not ever excluded you from something before and he’s certainly not about to start doing so now. And he’s not letting you pay for yourself when everyone else who is coming is paid for already. Christ, he doesn’t really know why this is even a conversation when everything has already been sorted and paid for in advance. 

You feel like you’re whining when you again admit, “I know that’s not the intention but I still feel it Alex.”  

“Well, it’s up to you.” Alex shrugs, hoping to convey how much he’s unbothered by the fact he’s paying for a holiday, but he doesn’t want to pressure you. “You’re very welcome to come and I’m paying for everyone, not just you.”

“But-“ You start but then stop yourself. 

Alex immediately questions, “But what?”

He would rather know what’s going on in your head rather than be left guessing. He needs to know how best to reassure you otherwise you both will just regress. And he doesn’t think that wanting for your honesty is too much to ask.

You can’t bring yourself to say it. So you just leave him with silence. 

But that silence speaks volumes. 

“You worried that if I pay for you to come I’m expecting you to shag me?” A few beats of silence pass and as you don’t dismiss him entirely, he already knows it to be true. His question is entirely rhetorical, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

You can’t even confirm it for him. It’s embarrassing to admit, but that is a worry of yours. 

“Y/N.” Alex sighs, knowing he’s right because of your silence. “I don’t expect anything from you, you know that right? You can come away with us and we don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s not compulsory, even when we’re home. Y/N/N, you’re Katie’s best friend, you’ve been around for ten years.” He backs up his point some more, “You came on the last holiday we went on, this is going to be no different to that. My birthday just happens to fall on a day whilst we’re there.” 

“You didn’t pay for me last time Al.” You argue in a slight huff, already feeling like you’re fighting a losing battle. 

“Hey, listen to me.” Alex persists, “I’m paying for everyone to come, not just you, and I’m not expecting a huge orgy all week.” 

You can help the laugh that escapes your lips at that. It’s a full giggle that the singer can’t help but grin at as he takes another drag of his cigarette. 

“There’s that laugh.” He hums, enjoying the sound even more purely because it’s him that’s caused it. 

Only after your laughter subsides, do you ask, a lot calmer now, “Are you sure you want me there?” 

“Yes, sweet.” Alex assures you. And just to convince you some more, he adds, “I need someone to entertain Mrs Cook when I pull Jamie away for a pint anyway. Think you fit the brief.” 

“Ah yeah, I think I could do that for you.” You chuckle a little, but then you’re serious in a soft tone, “I still feel bad that you’re paying though Alex. Skiing holidays are a lot of money.”

“I have a lot of money that I’ll never need.” The singer tells you, and you try not to think about the way anxiety in your chest dissipates when he says, “I’d rather treat my friends to a week away.”

You're his friend. Something so simple shouldn’t make your heart swell. Especially when the other night he tongue fucked you until you came, twice. 

“Well I’m buying you food and drinks whilst we’re away then.” You counter, finally readying yourself to admit defeat. 

“We’re going all inclusive but thanks.” You can almost hear Alex’s smirk. 

You sigh, dropping down onto your settee and leaning back to try and get comfy, “Well I’m assuming we won’t be staying in the hotel for your birthday. They’ll be pubs and cafes I’m sure.” 

He counters, “I’ll take a drink at the airport before we go.” 

“Okay deal.” You accept but know you’ll find ways to do more than just that, “Thank you Alex. You really don’t have to do this.”

“Well I want to.” Alex smiles, and his tone is full of amusement as he says, “And I can’t have you spiralling.”

You hum in a silent laugh at that and let your eyes close as you take a deep breath. You’re about to tell him that it’s just how you are but you’re okay now you’ve spoken about it. But he takes your attention again. 

“You know that this goes both ways right, Y/N/N?” You’re about to ask him what he’s on about until he continues, “If I text you asking to come over, you can say no and I’m not going to be offended by it. I understand that it’s not going to happen every time.” 

He’s talking about fucking you. And trying to make you feel more at ease about your situationship. 

Alex finishes off by saying, “I just ask on the off chance that you’re up for it.”

“I am always up for it.” Are the words that slip from your lips, and when you realise what you’ve said, your eyes shoot open. 

Oh my god woman, you sound so needy. Backtrack now. Now!

You sit up as you begin to pathetically backtrack, “Well. I mean, I- when you say you are, I, I- usually am too.”

“Good to know you’re always up for me, sweet,” You can hear Alex's smirk then, but thankfully he doesn’t tease you more for it he just carries on to say, “It seems like I’m texting you all the time asking to come over but you can text me. You’re allowed to get horny too.” 

You try and fail not to flush at hearing him say that. Especially when you can feel the ghost of his touch as you’re sitting on the settee he had you ride him on a week ago. 

“Alex, you’re over twice a week, if not more... It’s not like I’m without relief for long.” To drive the point home you say, “It’s not a ten month wait again.”

In your little meetings you’d discussed when you’d both last been with someone else. Yours was a guy you were seeing at the beginning of the year who turned out to just not do it for you after you dated him for a few months. 

Alex’s last fling was another rebound of his after the French girl he cheated on Taylor with. Turns out Alex hadn’t been with anyone in the last 5 months which did surprise you a little. But who are you to presume he’d just become a slag after his break up? 

“Still. We started this for a reason.” Alex drives the point home, wanting you to fully understand, “You can say no and you can call me whenever you want too.” 

You nod even though he can’t see you, “I know.”

“Maybe this holiday can just be the friends you’re so persistent we’re not.” 

You frown, confused, “What?”

“Your rule, ‘no sex while we’re away’.” Alex smirks, but he’s sincere when he says, “To make you feel more comfortable. 

“I don’t wanna seem like a prude Alex I just don’t…” You fail to continue your sentence, Wanna seem like a prostitute. 

“I think of all people, I’m not the one who’s going to think of you as a prude, sweet.” The singer can't help but tease, finding himself funny. 

You take a deep breath, trying not to let your amusement or embarrassment show, “So where are we going?”

“The Alps.” The singer tells you almost smugly, “Where else?”

You decide that you may as well ask him for the details if he’s sorting everything out, “When do we go?”

“Early morning of the second, we need to be at the airport for like four.” He tells you after a moment of thought. 

You hum, finally letting the excitement for a holiday bubble in your stomach, “Okay.”

Alex is smiling already hearing you finally sound at ease about the holiday, but he can’t help but push his luck a little more, “You free tonight, sweet?”

“No and neither are you,” You almost laugh, the amusement clear in your voice, “We’ve got Katie’s New Year’s party.”

Alex is grinning as he comes back with, “I mean at like three in the morning.”

“You’re a horny fuck.” You can’t help but tell him as you shake your head. 

You’re entirely unable to stop your face from flushing, making you very grateful he can’t see you. All you hope is he’s picturing you with a completely unbothered yet 

“You’re the one that just said you’re always up for me.” Alex counters and you have to bite your tongue. 

Idiot Y/N. 

“See you later Alex.” You immediately dismiss him, not wanting his teasing right now. 

Alex laughs loudly, “See you later sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 2nd 2019 ~*~*~*~

The Alps are absolutely mesmerising and you could stare at the snow covered mountains for days. The trip was certainly worth every single ounce of effort and you know you’ll be eternally grateful to Alex for him bringing you all here. 

You’re sure when you first got here you looked like a child in a toyshop. The views are absolutely stunning and you know for a fact that your jaw was agape as you took in the breathtaking scenery around you. 

So much so that Alex turned you towards him at one point and pushed your jaw back up and quietly teased, “Don’t let anyone else see those pretty lips parted like that, don’t want people getting ideas.”

Needless to say, you flushed hearing that and Alex wasn’t subtle about the way he let his smirk take over his face. And then he left you hanging, sauntering off to join Miles, Nick, and Jamie walking just in front of you, leaving you to catch up with Katie, Kristen, and Flo who all joined you for the holiday. 

Alex leaving you like this hadn’t been the only time since you’d woken up early today though. He’d been a tease since he picked you up to take you to the airport, asking if you’d recovered from the previous nights activities where he all but folded you into a pretzel and fucked you until you came on his cock. 

That wasn’t the beginning or end of your antics after the party, he’d teased you at Katie’s party, getting you in the mood and ready for him when he pulled you to a quieter bit of the party and pushed you against the wall to kiss you, taking away any sense but him. And he did it every time to leave you wanting more only for him to pull away and leave you to your own devices for a while. 

So you were desperate when it got to 3am and he was practically pulling you down the road so you could get back to your house. And he certainly did show you a good time until you practically passed out from the exhaustion. 

You woke up late the next morning to a glass of water and some painkillers on your bedside table along with a note that read, Hope you’re not too sore sweet x

It wasn’t hard to guess he probably felt a hint of guilt how far you’d both gone the night before. In the heat of the moment he said somethings about him wanting you to remember him, the feel of him inside you, over the week that you were both away. 

He kept making you regret the no sex on holiday rule. Alex kept saying how you'd be begging him to take you when you got back home, how you’d not be able to walk properly by the time he’d finished with you after a week of not touching him the way he knows your filthy mind craves him.

You're ashamed to admit that your thoughts about him are sometimes so dirty they belong down the gutter. He’d certainly made a good job of having you long for him. 

You try not to admit to yourself that you crave him. That when he decided that he was the one that was going to be sitting next to you on the plane and not Flo, you were happy. Not because you had any issue with Flo, no she was such an amazing friend to you, but because it was Alex. And he wanted to sit beside you. 

The little shit that he was though teased you the whole journey. You were still tired so when you sighed and closed your eyes once you’d relaxed after the take off, Alex whispered into your ear, “Did I work you too hard sweet?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You say as you feel yourself flush knowing he was to do with your fatigue. 

You slept in a little on New Year’s Day after you’d taken the painkillers he’d left out for you, but then your day was spent packing for this trip, figuring out what you’d need and calling Katie to double checking on if you’d need going out clothes and doing a checklist of the skiing things you actually own. 

By the time you went to bed it was 11pm and that was far later than you should have been going to sleep because you had to be up at 3am to get ready. So it was do to Alex fucking you hard and long enough on New Years and the fact you had so little sleep last night that you were tired on the plane. 

Next, he’s disturbing your attempt at sleep by him putting his hand on your thigh and leisurely trailing his hand up and down, mixed with him occasionally squeezing. He keeps an eye on your reaction to him, you going stiff for a few seconds and him taking great pleasure in saying, “I’ve done worse than putting my hand on your thigh, sweet.”

“Not in public or daylight.” You huff and try to get yourself comfy enough to get sleepy. 

Looking out of the window just has you mesmerised so after a few minutes you just end up looking around the plane. It's just you and Alex sitting beside each other and for some reason you’re not all that close to your friends. 

Katie, Kirsten, and Flo are all on one row, about 4 seats ahead of you, and Miles, Jamie, and Nick are on the row behind them. You’ve got no idea why you’re so far away from them with the gap of strangers in front of you, but you guess things could be worse. You could be sitting alone or worse, you could be at home feeling like you’re missing out. 

There’s a stranger beside Alex so you’re glad you took the window seat and the views of sun rising through the clouds were amazing. You genuinely wish you weren’t as tired as you were so you could appreciate them fully. 

Instead you’re feeling uncomfortable and whichever way you lean your head isn’t helping you relax. If it's against the wall of the plane you can feel the vibrations, just leaning back does nothing to help and if you do fall asleep like that you’re not risking possibly snoring because your jaw is hanging open, and if you let your head fall forward that’s not good for your posture, not to mention painful. 

Maybe it’s you wriggling in your seat that gives you away, considering his hand is still on your thigh, but Alex seems to pick up on your discomfort easily. 

“You can lean on me to go to sleep, you know?” Alex tells you with a smile, nodding down to his shoulder just beside you. 

“What,” You hold back your sigh but let him know that you’re not all that impressed with his offer after his previous antics, “So you can just try to wake me up even more?” 

“Come on sweet.” Alex chuckles, rubbing your thigh again before squeezing it. “Not my fault you’re not finding it relaxing.”

Pretending that him gripping your thigh didn’t give you flashbacks to the other night, you keep your voice quiet as you raise your eyebrows accusingly, “Because you’re trying to be a tease.”

“And it’s working.” Alex smirks, clearly knowing whatever your tells are by now, he gestures to the back of the plane, “Wanna go to the bathroom?” 

Its a mixture of shock and being entirely unimpressed that has you asking, “Are you kidding?”

“Absolutely not.” Alex grins, holding his chuckle as he asks, “We’re not on holiday yet, technically. We could go again if you're not feeling satisfied enough before we land?” 

You don’t dignify him with an answer, you just shake your head and look away from the tease. While the thought of him fucking you and you having to be quiet because others are around seems like quite the thrill, the mere thought of doing so in a public aeroplane has you wanting gag. 

“What?” Alex fakes his hurt, nonchalantly following up with, “I know you can get horny just after you’ve woken up.”

Your head whips back to him, narrowing your eyes as you scold, “You’re being loud.” 

He wasn’t. His voice was just above a whisper. But the mere fact you were on a plane with the possibility of anyone around you eavesdropping has you getting all embarrassed and flustered in an instant.

“Sorry,” Alex barely holds back his grin. “I’ll be subtle about it when I take you in the bathroom.”

Instead of scowling, you lean your head back on the seat, close your eyes, and take a deep breath so you don’t end up smacking him. Taking a few seconds to calm your anxiousness down and try not to let his joking get you too embarrassed when you know he isn’t trying to be malicious, you just stay like that silently. 

But Alex disturbs your peace, “You don’t have to think about it so intently Y/N/N, we can just do it.”

“No.” You look at him again, and say even quietly to try and further your point, “Not to mention everyone would see.”

Alex can’t help but take that though as you just don’t want to right now. In such a public setting. That’s not you saying that you’d never be ready to join the mile high club.

“Oh okay, remind me to take you on a private jet.” Alex squeezes your thigh again, before winking, “They mind their business on those.” 

You’re lost for words for a brief moment. Taking in exactly what that means, and you end up half frowning. 

“Way to persuade me.” You scoff, “Telling me you’re already in the mile high club.” 

Sarcasm is thick in your voice as you say, “Such a turn on.”

The singer can’t help but smirk though, “Don’t be jealous now, sweet.” 

After that, Alex seems to give you a break from his endless torment. He takes his hand from your thigh as he reaches down to his bag by his feet and takes out the word search book he bought himself in WHSmiths at the airport. Finally you feel like you can relax and sleep for the remainder of the 2 hour flight. 

Or you hoped so anyway, but it seems the vibrations of the plane's wall just wanted you conscious. So it was with a huff you leant back against the headrest once more. 

“Just,” Alex sighs and he picks his hand up to cup the side of your face to gently push your head on his shoulder. 

Instant comfort was an understatement compared to the wall and the seat. But you still felt weird about it. 

You tell him with a sigh, “I don’t want to annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me at all, Y/N/N.” He dismisses immediately, paying you no more attention after saying, “Go to sleep.”

And so you did. You got a good hour’s sleep and you think it was only when the plane started to make a steady descent that your body woke you up as a result of the decrease in altitude. But you woke up gently and slowly, and you realised you were still on Alex’s shoulder long before you opened your eyes. 

You found yourself not wanting to move. The woody scent of his aftershave leaves you in a little trance all the time and you never want to bring yourself out of it. So you just blinked your eyes open slowly and told your body not to even twitch to give away that you were awake. 

And Alex didn’t notice because you now see he’s entirely too engrossed in his book. Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.

A true classic, you can’t help but tiredly smile as you see he’s about to get to one of your favourite bits of the book. You following pretty easily for a few pages because he’s holding the book open practically as far as it can go (you’re so tired you can find it in yourself to shudder at the fact the book will definitely have a cracked spine) in one hand, and you only noticed when he turned the pages that his other had gone back to gently resting on your thigh.

Everything is good for about 5 minutes, but then the singer started reading too fast for you at one of your favourite bits, so you end up having to say a quiet, “Go back,” 

“What?” You feel Alex turn his head towards you a little, his jaw gently nudging your head but you don’t make a single effort to move.

“Hadn’t finished the page,” You tell him and Alex can’t help but smile as he turns the page back for you.  

His only indication that you’re ready to move on is the slight nod of your head and Alex even angles the book towards your direction a little more so you can both read. He smiles at the way you haven’t attempted to move from his shoulder at all, seemingly quite comfy. 

You both continue reading together for the next few pages until the same thing happens again where Alex turns the page too soon. This time you whine a little as you whisper, “Too fast.”

“Not had you complain about my speed before.” Alex can’t help but tease when the opportunity is right there for the taking, but all it earns him is a poke in his side which makes him jump and he just about peers down at you seeing you smiling victoriously.

After this you fall into a rhythm of you nodding slightly when you're ready for him to turn the page. It doesn’t bother Alex at all, no it's the opposite, he finds you endearing that you’re both enjoying his book and reading it at the same time. 

The both of you become entirely engrossed in Jane Eyre’s world that you barely even acknowledge that the plane is just about ready to land. It’s only when the air hostess’ voice fills the plane as they announce over the tannoy that you’d be landing shortly, does Alex close the book. 

At the same time you reluctantly pick your head up from his shoulder, Alex offers as he taps the book, “Can borrow it after me if you want?” 

“I’ve already read it, I just love that part you’re on.” You hum, smiling at him in earnest, “Thank you though.”

And both of you know you’re not just saying thank you for that offer, but thank you for allowing you to fall asleep on him. 

The transfer to the resort even had you in awe. But when you got to the hotel and you entered your room, you were blown away by your view. 

The white mountains are stunning and you were so glad you brought your camera. This was something you definitely didn’t want to ever forget. 

The air felt like ice on your skin as you took your pictures, the bitter cold making you want to jump into the private hot tub you have on your balcony. 

You restrain yourself, saving that for later, you opt for a hot shower to settle you after that flight and you end up falling asleep in the warmest queen sized bed. 

You all meet downstairs a few hours later where you get some food and decide that you’re going to all get ready to hit the slopes, you all opting for the red runs for today. They were so much fun and with you skiing, you just find yourself in awe of Flo on her snowboard flying past you all. 

It’s a fun few hours, with you all stopping half way down the slope at one of the cafes on the mountain where you all have a hot coffee, and the lads follow it up with a beer. The lads head off before the rest of you, wanting to be speed demons and race down the rest of the way which you’re all fine with. 

You know Flo will inevitably end up beating them down anyway. Which she of course did. 

Before you set off though, you girls decide that after dinner you’re all going to have a little hot tub party. So that’s how you’re now sinking in the hot tub on your balcony, Katie already in after beating you to being the first. 

You just laugh at her rushing in there to beat you, as you take off your hotel dressing gown to reveal your dark green bikini. Katie says she loves the colour of yours as you glance back around at her and tell her you adore her maroon one. 

But it’s when you step into the tub that Katie gasps, loud enough for you to pause as you stand in the pool of bubbling water. 

“What are they?” Katie points to your thighs with wide eyes. 

Your bruised beyond belief thighs. Dark, almost purple bruises that litter the tops of your thighs which were left by the mouth of the singer next door. 

“Y/N!” Katie yells, her jaw dropped as she looks at the assault on your skin, “What the fuck?” 

“Katie, stop looking at me.” You get all flustered and embarrassed so you're about to sit down, but your best friend grabs your hips to stop you so she can look at the dark marks for longer. 

“Oh my fucking god.” She shakes her head, too shocked by the sheer amount of them. “It’s hard not to when you have those on your thighs Y/N!”

“Please stop, can we just pretend you didn’t see them.” You pry yourself out of her grip and finally immerse yourself into the hot water, loving the chill dissipating from your body. 

“No, I want the gossip.” Katie grabs her glass of prosecco you’d poured her and left on the side of the tub along with yours and the other girls that were meant to be coming shortly. “How’s it been going between you two?” 

“Fine.” You nod with a coy smile as you reach for your glass. 

Your best friend shakes her head, “I’m not settling with fine.” 

“It’s good.” You take a long sip of your drink, knowing you’ll need it if you’re having this conversation, “I guess he keeps me on my toes.”

“In what way?” She prys. 

You think about how to word your feelings for a second. The sound of the jets humming in the cold air fills the brief silence until you end on, “I’m still not used to having a booty call or being one. I still get a text off him and it throws me... He still makes me nervous.”

“That’s good though.” Katie hums and nods, “He’d be boring if he didn’t make you nervous.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You nod in agreement. 

But your best friend enquires, “He’s not making you nervous in general now, right? Just when he comes on to you?”

“No, it's a lot better.” You explain honestly, sinking into the water a little more. “But I’m still not at ease if that makes any sense. I still find him difficult to read.”

“That just comes with time.” Katie nods, understanding you entirely, “When you start spending more time with him, you’ll figure it out.”

“Well that doesn’t really happen,” You mumble a little but seeing as she heard you and noting that sparkle in her eye for the gossip, you explain, “He sort of just shows up and we fuck and then he leaves.”

Katie frowns a little at that though, “Thought he took you out?”

“That was just until I felt more comfortable around him. We’ve not carried that on.” You almost cringe when you say, “We’re just shagging now.”

“And how’s that going?” Your best friend smirks, “The bruises seem like a good sign.”

You sigh, “Yeahhh.” taking another sip of your drink. 

“What was that sigh for?” She calls you out. 

You try to pass it off immediately, “Nothing.”

But she’s not having any of it, “S’not nothing, come on.”

“He was just a tease on the plane but he’s doing it on purpose.” Your cheeks heat up a bit as you tell her. 

“Getting you ready for later.” She grins and gives you some teasing suggestive eyes herself. 

You gently shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” Katie raises her eyebrows, “What does that mean?”

Oh fuck. 

“Don’t make me explain Katie.” You pout. 

She pushes you, “Come onnnn.”

You just sigh in defeat and say, “We’re not doing that right now.”

“Excuse me?” Your best friend is now even more confused. 

“You heard me Kate.” You sigh, closing your eyes not wanting to explain yet another of your stupid thoughts to her. 

For clarity’s sake she has to ask, “Weren’t you with him twice last week?”

“We shagged on Boxing Day and then the 28th and New Years.” You tell her. 

And it occurs to you that you’ve probably not been this active on a regular basis since you were in your late teens. Either you or Alex clearly has the sex drive of a teenager and with the state of your thighs, you think it’s more likely Alex. 

Glancing at the bruises again you can almost feel the ghost of his mouth there. You fall into the daze of remembering the way his lips attacked the tops of your thighs as he fingered you to edge you, not letting you finish until you were begging to have his tongue instead.  

He toyed with you, saying his mouth was already on you, sucking your thighs that bit more before biting them making you whine. But you were desperate to have him eat you out. Have his tongue tease and flick your clit in the way he knows makes you lose your mind. 

And he wouldn’t give in. Not until you were on the edge for the third time, right on the verge of getting bratty with him and making the right decision he compensated by eating you out until you came twice on his tongue. And the way he fucked you afterwards, god, you wish-

“And he’s not touched you since?” Katie’s question shocks you back to reality. 

You blink a few times, and shake your head, “No.” 

She smirks, almost trying to hide it behind her glass, “I bet you’re losing your mind.”

“I feel like it.” You hum, nodding. 

Katie asks, fully ready to big you up to go and knock on his door after your girls prosecco party, “Don’t you want him to touch you?”

“I want nothing more at the minute.” You tell her honestly, “But we’re not doing it until after the holiday.”

She frowns, completely confused, “Why?”

Surely on holiday is on of the best places to fuck? Why wouldn’t you be doing that? Katie can’t help but think. 

“Because he knew I felt uncomfortable about him paying for me to come and I was worried he’d expect something from me.”

“Y/N.” Her face falls and then she gently scorns you, “He’s not like that.”

“I know he isn’t Katie. But you know how my mind works. It worries me.” You shrug, not really being able to help it. 

“Well I thi-“ Katie starts but is interrupted by Florence appearing at the door of your balcony. 

“Hey,” You grin, very thankful for the conversation being cut short. 

Hopefully never to be brought up again. 

“Flo,” Katie smiles and waves her over, “Come in.”

The gorgeous woman walks out and hangs her dressing gown up before running to the tub to escape the chilly air. After commenting on how much both you and Katie like her black, glittery bikini, the artist asks you both, “What were we talking about?”

You try to think of something quickly to change the subject entirely but your best friend gets in there first and grins, “Just how Y/N/N is sleeping with Alex now and she’s seeing if she can go the holiday without.”

You might drown yourself in this hot tub. Can you get any more embarrassed today? 

Flo’s smile is huge as her head whips around to you in shock. You can tell she’s happy for you, presumably for Alex too, but she shocks you when she tells you, “Don’t deny yourself the pleasure.”

You’re so beyond confused by that statement until Katie’s eyes go wide as she gasps, “Fuck, I always forget about you two.”

You blink a few times as you hear her tell Katie that it’s understandable she’d forget because it was before her and Jamie got together. But you’re still in shock, you have to get the clarification, “You and Alex?”

You hope it doesn't sound like you’re annoyed because you’re not, no one even Alex has to tell you anything about this and clearly Flo just found out about yours and her ex’s rendezvous. You’re just confused, clearly Katie forgot but you’ve not even heard any jokes about it or any mention of it before now. 

“Yeah, a long time ago.” Flo nods and is quick to explain as she grabs her glass of prosecco. “Lost our virginities to each other back in college, but started seeing him years later.”

She continues to explain with a roll of her eyes, “But the idiot was seeing me at the same time as Alexa back on their Favourite Worst Nightmare tour so I held my tongue for about a week until I blew up and called him out in front of all the lads…” She adds quickly, “It got ugly.”

It makes your chest go tight. He did that to one of his best friends years ago, and he did to his girlfriend of three years last year. 

You're sincere when you say, “I’m so sorry.”

You feel almost embarrassed to be sleeping with him now. Especially when you’d consider Flo a friend of yours, even before this trip, when you spoke to her about her artwork that she creates at various parties you’ve both attended. She’d always been lovely to you and made you feel entirely at ease. 

And now you’re sleeping with her ex. You need the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Don’t be, it worked out well in the end.” It seems that the artist can’t keep the smile off her face as she finishes her story, “I went to Manchester and Matty and my cousin, Adam, got me through it. And when the time was right and I was healed, Matty asked me out and now we’ve been together for a decade.” Her grin is huge as she proudly tells you, “Married for three and a half years.”

It’s impossible to not be happy for her, her love for her husband shining through so brightly. But you can’t help but ask her, “Why are you still friends with him? Alex, I mean.” 

You can’t imagine anyone betraying your trust that much and being close friends with them years later. 

“Oh, it took a long while and a lot of grovelling on his part. But after two years of barely speaking to him, and with how happy I was with Matty, I forgave Al and now we get on like nothing ever happened.” Flo explains, “I see the other lads too often to let it continue for a lifetime of awkwardness.”

She’s a better person than you. You could never. 

You think out loud. “The lads didn’t know he was two timing you?” 

“No,” She shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “They were as shocked as me when Alexa showed up. Only Miles knew, and covered for him.” 

You shake your head, seeing Miles in a completely different light now. But you guess if you’re judging Alex by how he’s only been with you, you have to do the same with Miles. 

“You’re too good. I would never forgive either of them for that.” Katie gives her two cents on the situation. 

“I’ve been told that a lot. By Alex himself too... But despite last year's shit show, he has changed.” Flo assures you, but then smirks, “So enjoy him, queen.”

You sink into the water a bit more, entirely awkward about the way both women are smirking at you. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. He’s good.” Flo giggles, “God only knows that if I didn’t call him out to everyone I would have a hard time choosing between him and Matty.” 

You’re glad she’s such a lovely person and she eases you entirely. 

“Good job you’re married then.” You joke, which makes Katie also spit out her drink laughing and Flo giggles before clinking her prosecco glass with yours. 

“You should see her thighs.” Your best friend laughs. 

You shoot her the dirtiest look, “Katie!”

~*~*~*~ 

Thankfully by the time Kristen arrived the subject of you and Alex had long since been dropped. 

Flo saw your thighs and she told you about how she thinks the man will never truly grow up because he left lots of love bites on her boobs when they lost their virginities, and mercifully after that, the subject moved away and the four of you are now just chilling and listening to your a playlist that’s blaring through your phone. 

You were all giggling at nothing in particular when you got startled by two men at the balcony door. Alex and Jamie come outside in their trunks and Jamie is the one to scoff, “You all thought you could have a party without us.”

Jamie practically jumps in and sits himself down between Flo and Katie, but your attention is drawn to Alex who sinks in beside you and you half find yourself wanting to scurry over to Katie. 

He looks too good. Last time you’d seen him shirtless you were drunk and your memory hazy, but he looks so fucking good and his toned abdomen and his trunks low enough for you to clearly see that V line down to- Stop. 

Stop. 

Thankfully Alex doesn’t seem to notice the way you get a little bit more tense with him beside you. Instead he immediately asks Flo, “How’s Matty, angel?” 

“Yeah he’s good, thanks Shakespeare.” Flo smiles, and despite not understanding her nickname for him, you happily listen in to distract yourself. 

Maybe it’s to do with the Macbeth reference in If You Were There, Beware? You can’t help but wonder. Maybe you’ll ask her later. 

The singer can’t help but ask curiously, “Why didn’t he join us again?” 

“Tour rehearsals.” The artist informs him, “His UK tour starts on the ninth.”

“Fair enough,” Alex nods, clearly completely understanding the situation Flo’s husband finds himself in. “I’m glad we aren’t back on the road till late Feb now.” 

“Bet you are.” Flo smiles at him but when he tunes into Jamie’s conversation, her eyes flick to you and she smirks. 

You sink even further into the water. 

Despite Alex now being beside you, you try not to let your nervous energy take over.  No, instead you carry on as normal and have some of the funniest conversations with the people around you. You’re only thrown off when you realise that an old Arctic Monkeys song comes on through your phone and your eyes go wide when Jamie sighs, “I haven’t heard this song in so long.” 

Immediately, you tense hearing the guitar and drums at the start of Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts. Fuck, this is why you don’t normally have your music on around Katie, so you don’t have this awkward interaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was in this playlist.” You say, immediately turning to reach for your phone.

Liar. You feel Alex’s eyes screaming at you, as he looks amused at the fact you like his music, as if he already didn’t know. 

“Keep it on.” Jamie tells you, and you hesitate for a split second feeling Alex’s eyes on you until his friend continues to say, “Complete nostalgia of playing it at yours Al.” 

“Yeah, it’s a gooden.” Alex smiles.

“Who was this one even about Al?” Flo asks, entirely amused, thankfully stealing the singer's attention away from you so he doesn’t see you starting to fidget, really not wanting the song to stay on.

Your knee is twitching, your foot tapping on the floor of the jacuzzi like you can’t sit still at all. Thankfully the water and the bubbles will be enough to stop you from being noticed though.

“Just that girl I fancied back in Year 11.” Alex explains, “She was in your English lessons, I think she was called-“

If you were to tell the story again, you wouldn’t have been able to name the girl at all. Just that Alex really liked her in school and never got the courage to ask her out and then some guy who was in the year above them in school ended up going out with her. 

The conversation moved on and easily past that and your awkwardness about the man you’re sleeping with catching you having his song on your playlist eases off. But then, about 10 minutes later, it happens again. 

“Fuck my life,” You whisper immediately reaching to grab your phone this time. 

Because this is so much worse. 

It’s not just that Piledriver Waltz has started to play. It’s even more embarrassing that it's the Submarine soundtrack version of the song, it’s just Alex. Not even Arctic Monkeys.  

“Didn’t know you enjoyed my music this much, sweet.” Alex can’t help but once again tease you. Finding your reactions too entertaining not to. 

The panic in your eyes when the first Monkey's song came on, but the way you swore under your breath at this one just made him want to burst out laughing. You look absolutely mortified, and clearly not wanting to get any extra teasing from himself or your friends which you were likely expecting.

But Alex isn’t one to disappoint. So of course he teased you. 

You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him, “In the nicest possible way, fuck off.” Before you quickly look for a playlist that is safe and doesn’t have any of his songs on there. 

“It’s all good Y/N.” Alex smirks, “It’s good to know I’m doing something right.”

His hand comes to rest on your thigh to stop your leg from tapping. You swallow, stopping your movements and taking a deep breath to not let it get to you that the others could see his hand on your thigh. Although you’d rather them see his hand there than the bruises he’s left. 

Thankfully the bubbles disguise it from everyone else and no one comments, but just as you ask, “What album do you want to listen to?” Miles and Nick turn up at your door with more alcohol in their hands and everyone beckons them in. 

Which is an issue for you because the hot tub is probably only meant to have 4 people in it at the most and now there’s 8 of you. So you’re unsure why it’s you and Kirsten that have drawn the short straws, but you’ve both been pulled into the laps of who you’re sleeping with. But one second you were seated closely beside Alex, and now you’re sitting on his lap, your arm having to go over his shoulder so you don't slip off as you lean into him a little. 

Kirsten and Nick, you understand, they are married. Flo not sitting in Miles’ lap, you again understand because they aren’t together. What you don’t understand is why Katie isn’t on her husband's lap when they are married and have a child. But you, who has been sleeping with this man for less than a month, has been pulled onto his lap to make more room for everyone. 

All of a sudden you feel like you’re holding your breath and can’t relax. After being submerged in the warm water for so long, most of your top half being exposed to the crisp air makes you chilly and your thighs feel far too close to the surface of the water so you feel your hands in your lap to try and disguise the bruises. 

Thankfully one of Alex’s arms comes to rest across your thighs too and he holds your thighs again. And you can’t help slipping back into that little daydream of yours. 

Of the way he pried your thighs open, as if you weren’t already willing and dripping for him. As if you weren’t begging him to eat you out anyway. And when he finally gave into your demands his fingers only dug into your skin more, holding you open entirely at his mercy. 

And when he worked you up and up until he had your back arching and his name caught in your throat as you pulled harshly on his hair. He kept going, eating up everything you had to give him until you were writhing beneath him entirely overstimulated. 

After he blissfully tortured you like that, he kissed his way up your body until you could taste yourself on his tongue. And that only lead to him fucking you till you could barely move. His cock made you see stars when he hooked his arms under your legs and moved them closer to your chest. 

The pleasure he drove into you over and over was blinding, you saw white when you came. The only thing you can remember is the way Alex groaned into your ear when you clenched around him and the way he moaned when you tugged on his sweaty hair. And the way he bit your shoulder when he got his release not a minute later. 

Not to mention the way he flipped you over when you both caught your breaths and he fu-

“I can feel you.” Alex's whisper startles you out of your memory and your eyes snap to the man you were daydreaming about. 

You all but jump off his lap, your heart racing ten to the dozen feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. But you keep calm, not letting your cheeks heat up to give you away. 

“Feel what?” You ask him, the shock slowly disappearing from your face. 

“Your pulse,” Alex tells you in a low voice, his grip on you tightening, “On my thigh.”

And it dawns on you what he means. You’re fucking throbbing, completely aching at the thought of him. And he can fucking feel you. 

Fuck offfffffff. Men can actually feel that?!

No. No. No. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb, having to because you don’t think you’ll be able to look at him again if not. 

Not that you can right now, you just look at Flo and start listening to her, Miles, and Kirsten’s conversation. Meanwhile praying to every god that there is that you calm the fuck down and you stop being horny immediately. 

“Course you don’t, sweet.” Alex kisses your shoulder and his lips linger on your skin as he smirks, “Just like you can’t feel me.”

You’re about to ask him what he means until he shifts you against him more and you can feel his erection pressed against your thigh. He’s hard. Really hard. You have to hold in the sound you want to make. 

Why the fuck did you want this ‘no fucking’ shit. You can’t stop thinking about him. The way you want to kiss him. The way you want him in your mouth. The way you want him to fill you up and fuck you like it’s the last time you’re ever going to be able to. 

You don’t even realise what you’re doing until Alex grunts in your ear, “I’d stop wriggling unless you want me to fuck you in front of these lot.”

Your thighs press against each other and you pray Alex didn’t feel that too. Despite him definitely noticing, Alex didn’t say anything, didn’t tease you any more and you just about managed to have a conversation with Flo about how she’s joining her husband on his tour and how she’s going to stay in Sheffield for a while after to see her best friend. 

But it’s not long after that, the alcohol runs dry and everyone notices the time. Nick and Kirsten are the first to leave, followed by Katie and Jamie, and when you don’t move from Alex’s lap (because he won’t let you, his hands clutching you tightly after you tried to move when the first couple left. Clearly doesn’t think the bubbles will  hide his hard on) Flo and Miles are the last to get out. 

Miles gives you both a cheeky smile and he helps the artist out of the tub and hands her the dressing gown. Both of them say bye to you and Alex but Florence gives you a teasing look as she leaves, seeming to scream at the both of you, have funnn. 

Your jaw locks and you very subtly shake your head at her, trying your absolute best to keep the smile off your face and show your strength. And you’d say you do well, you shout an unbothered bye to the direction they went and only when you hear your bedroom door thud shut does Alex’s hold on you go slack. 

And finally you release the breath you were holding and grab the side of the tub to stand up, needing off this man's lap before you do something you’ll regret. Abandoning your empty prosecco glass you just get yourself stood up when the singer stops you. 

“Where are you going?” Alex gently grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, the water sloshing as you fall back towards him. 

“Alex,” You sigh as he moves you so you’re straddling him, but before you can even protest his mouth finds yours. 

His kiss takes your breath away, and he doesn’t give you time to think. He just wants you to feel. 

Alex attacks you with long kisses, three of them that have you forgetting that you were even trying to get away. It’s as if something ignites in you both, the mere connection of your lips has your skin erupting in goosebumps, and they aren’t from the contrast with the hot water and the cold air. 

But you seem to get some perspective and much to Alex’s disappointment, you pull back from the kiss. But he doesn’t let you go far at all, his hand on the back of your neck keeps you close enough your foreheads are resting against each others. 

“It’s just a kiss.” Whispers the man who’s got your heart racing, his hand pulling your neck that bit closer hoping you’ll kiss him again. 

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” You breathlessly reply, gently shaking your head, your nose rubbing against his. 

When he pulls you back for another kiss you can’t deny yourself the simple pleasure. Because it is never just a kiss. 

And it isn’t, because you’re not sure what this one is laced with, but you’re addicted. You don’t want to stop for a single second, especially not when he grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you against him properly. 

Your back arches, your chest against his now and he can feel your peaked nipples through your bikini top. He can’t help but groan, he’s been wanting to feel them against him in some capacity since he saw them through your bikini top when he lifted you onto his lap and you got cold and his head filled with filth about you. 

About how he wanted to pinch them between his fingers so you’d make that noise he loves. About how he couldn’t stop thinking about his head being back between your thighs when he spotted the bruises he’d left there. About how he wanted nothing more than to tease you in front of his friends, to see how far he could push you out of your comfort zone. And after he could feel you throbbing on his thigh he wanted nothing more than to make you cum over and over again. 

This kiss turns hard and hungry and it takes you enough by surprise that if you were standing you’d have stumbled back with the force of it. As you’re on his lap though, you can’t escape and you don’t for a second want to. Alex’s hands move your hips so you start grinding on him and both of you moan at the friction. 

You hope that the rumble of the jets hides them from anyone other than the two of you, and you pray to every god that Katie and Jamie haven’t decided to go into their hot tub as they are the room beside yours. Despite the wooden panelling hiding the balconies completely from potential neighbours, you need to keep quiet. But it’s so difficult when he’s making you feel so good. 

The more you grind against him, the more you can feel your stomach tighten with need. The way Alex is dragging you against his cock just makes you worse, your clit finally getting the friction it’s been aching for.  

Minutes pass of your whining, gasping, and mewling as he encourages you, taking handfuls of your arse to pull you towards him as he bucks his hips up into yours. His moans motivate you more, your hips now erratic in search for relief as he kisses you. 

Alex licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough of the way you taste. His groans spur you on, and his hand moving up to the middle of your waist has you arching into his chest again, and he can’t help but move his hips in time with yours, loving the little whines that escape your pretty lips. 

But he needs to hear more, so when you tug on his hair, and he bucks up into you, he bites your bottom lip when you moan so he can muffle it with his own lips. He smirks when he pulls away and he grabs your face, his thumb and index finger pressing your cheeks together as he grinds you against him again, his fingers digging into your hip ensuring it. 

The moan you let out for him then, you can’t suppress, and by the way Alex’s eyes seem to sparkle with delight shows you just how satisfied the sound makes him. Like it was intent all along to have you be loud for him.

“Do I feel good, sweet?” His voice a low whisper that has your throat bobbing.  

The singer kisses his way up your jaw before biting your earlobe, and he clearly wants an answer, “Well?” His hand falling from your cheeks to your neck and the slightest pressure has your head in pieces. 

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement pulling back enough to grab his jaw and bring his lips back up to yours. 

You refuse to let him mark your neck up again, no matter how good his lips feel on your throat. And at this point you know he’d do it just to get the both of you caught to see if you could withstand your friends teasing. 

This between you carries on for longer than it should. But that pull, that spark, between you, now ignited neither of you can get enough. 

“You like knowing you get me this hard, just from seeing the bruises I left on your thighs?” Alex rasps, as he kisses slowly down your neck. 

At this point, you think you’d do just about anything to have his lips on you or on your skin somehow. It’s addicting. So much so that you don’t remember the silly rule that you agreed upon, especially when Alex moves his hand  

“From seeing these,” Alex hums against your neck as his thumbs circling both your nipples through your bikini. “I can still feel them on my chest from the other night.”

His lips trail down your neck and the top of your chest and he kisses over your skin and his hands grab at you that bit tighter as he says, “I want my mouth all over you, sweet.”

His thumbs hook into your bikini top and he pulls both cups to the side, leaving you bare for him. His lips are on your breast in a second and the other he kneads in his calloused hand. 

Your head falls back, a moan falling freely from your lips as you grind yourself onto his cock as he sucks your nipple. Needing as much friction as you can get because you could easily finish like this if he carried on. But god, you want him inside you instead. 

Picking your head up, your fingers tug in his hair encouraging him as his right hand now grabs your arse again making you move on him. Fuck, you could cum just from this, easily if he carries on. 

He swaps to your other tit, lapping at it and savouring the sweetness of your skin and he can’t help but moan when you rut against him again. God, he just wants to have you like this forever, just free of inhibitions and completely giving into your desire. 

“Well, sweet? You like knowing what you do to me?” He teases, but he takes it a step further and he reaches between you and he presses circles onto your clit through your clothes, “That I like feeling this greedy thing throbbing on my lap for me?”

The sound you let out is guttural and completely obscene. To mute it you harshly pull his hair so you can press your lips against his to quieten yourself. But fuck knows if he even helps. 

His sweet torture continues and you feel the tension forming in your lower stomach, flames scorching your limbs, all caused by the man who’s name falls from your lips in desparate pleas, “Alex.”

His kiss is hot and heavy like a man starved, like he could never get enough of you. His hands claiming you is something promise you’ll never deny yourself the pleasure of again, those magic fucking fingers have you seeing stars. Each swipe of them against your clothed clit pushes you closer towards that delightful edge. 

“I- Al, oh.” Fuck. You’re going to finish, this is it and it’s going to shatter you entirely. 

His warm hands on you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your own, his body heat making your nipples perk from the stimulation. And his fucking cock that you’re aching to have inside you, he’s so hard all you can think about is reaching down and moving your costume to the side so you can line him up and fill you to the br-

So consumed with your thoughts and your erratic hips chasing the orgasm you're on the verge of having you miss the singer mumble against your lips, “Okay, that’s enough.”  

You only register when Alex’s hand now holds your hip to stop you from moving and you hear him say, “Stop, sweet.”

“No,” You helplessly whine, entirely cockdrunk at this point, wanting him too badly and you kiss him deeply again. 

But Alex only entertains the kiss for another second, before he pulls away and to stop your lips from following his again, he holds your jaw, “If you keep kissing me, we’re not going to make it another minute.”

You’re so breathless you barely understand what he means. But as you take a minute to get some oxygen back into your system you realise what you’ve done and god you want to lock yourself up and throw away the key. 

“I’m sorry.” You swallow, looking away from his gaze. 

“Don’t apologise.” Alex shakes his head, and you note he’s just as out of breath as you. And he gently readjusts your bikini so it’s covering your modesty again as he says, “We agreed on your rule, sweet, don’t wanna break it on day one now, do we?”

It’s his smirk that he gives you as he says the end of that which makes you say, “You’re a bully.”

Because he’s got you all hot and bothered, only to completely edge you and use ‘your rule’ as an excuse to leave you right on the brink. God you could absolutely throttle him. But knowing Alex, he’d enjoy it, so you keep your hands to yourself. 

The singer just laughs, “You love it.” And he taps your arse under the water to prompt you to stand up so he can too. 

Jesus Christ it’s only now that you realise how perishing the cold is, you practically jump out of the tub and run for your dressing gown before heading to the door. And you’re kind enough to hold the door open for Alex as he wraps his towel around his shoulders. 

It’s only now that you gulp seeing just how little the swim shorts disguise his erection. Standing at attention is an understatement, and there’s a little spark of pride that scorches your blood knowing you’ve caused that. 

You don’t let your eyes linger, but you know from the smug smirk on his face as he walks through the door that he’s caught you looking. And the prick opens his mouth, probably to bully you once more but you beat him to it as you close and lock the balcony door. 

“You don’t care about the rule, why’d you stop when I was clearly enjoying myself?” You ask as you follow him to the door to your room. 

“Because you were dead set about not wanting to before we came.” Alex tells you sincerely, and you can’t help your heart from warming that little bit as he looks you in the eye and says, “I don’t want you regretting anything between us.” 

Swallowing down the smile you want to plaster all over your face, you tell him, “I don’t regret what just happened, for the record.”

“Good.” Alex smiles, walking the last few steps to your door. And the singer is about to open it before he pauses, turns back and tells you, “Oh, and don’t get yourself off.” 

Immediately you frown a little. It’s a miracle your words don’t come out as a scoff, “Don’t think you have that authority.” 

The smirk that comes to those pretty swollen lips and the way his eyes darken is something that needs capturing in a museum. Fucking hell it’s definitely banked away in a certain area of your mind. 

“I could just fuck you now if you’re going to do that.” Alex raises his eyebrows, and you can tell he’so putting the offer out there. 

But after him saying it’s only day one, you’re definitely not giving in now. A week without fucking him. You can do it. You just can’t fucking slip up again. How embarrassing of you to have given in to your temptations only mere hours after your holiday began. 

Alex seems to understand your thoughts entirely so he quickly saves himself from a scolding,  “Think of it as being edged instead, don’t touch yourself. It’ll make next week more fun.”

Your still fucking throbbing for him, aching isn’t even the right word for the need for relief you’re feeling. It looks like your bullet won’t be being used while you’re away after all. But if you’re showing restraint, you certainly won’t be the only one. 

You nod, the corner of your lips tugging up a little seeing Alex smile down at you and as he reaches from the door handle to let himself out, you surprise him by saying, “Don’t touch yourself either then.” 

He looks at you again, his eyes entirely full of surprise that you’ve given him an order. But he’ll do it for you. He won’t be a double standard, so he agrees.  

Although when he opens the door and takes a step out, and you tell him, “Go get a cold shower.” He loves your brattiness.  

“Could share one of those?” Alex offers as he takes a step back towards you, his eyes bright and full of mischief as he smirks down at you. 

All you can think is, And end up having a repeat of the first time you were in the shower with him? No chance. 

“See you tomorrow, Alex.” You smile, placing a hand on his bare chest and pushing him towards the door perpendicular to yours. 

Alex chuckles, blowing you a teasing kiss, “Goodnight, sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 4th 2019 ~*~*~*~

To say that the next couple of days were positively torturous would be a massive understatement. The cold shower you had after Alex left your room that first night didn’t do much to calm you down, the ache between your thighs didn’t disappear until well into the night of you tossing and turning in bed. 

At one point you were ready to march into his room and tell him how unfair it is to leave you on edge like that, and that it was unfair because you’d be so pent up that you’d have a miserable holiday. But then you’d realise you’d see the singer's smug smirk and he’d say something along the lines of, ‘You’re so greedy that you come begging me to get you off, is that it? You can’t go even a few hours without me, can you not? You poor sweet thing.’ 

So you chose to stay warm in bed, following his direction of not getting yourself off and you eventually fall asleep. You swear though that if he got himself off and didn’t stick through this with you, you’d be absolutely fuming. 

And you can’t help but be pleased when Alex eventually joins you all for breakfast the next morning, and he made a thunderstorm look appealing. ‘In a mood’ would be an understatement. The singer looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, he hadn't even bothered with his hair, it was still dishevelled, and his glum, tired face had a smile tugging on your lips.

Good. You like knowing you’re not the only one who felt absolutely tortured.    

You had to hide your smirk by taking a drink of your orange juice, sipping it through the straw as your eyes linger on the singer who looks like he could commit a murder if his breakfast was served wrong. Clearly though, you’re not being as slick as you thought you were hiding your amusement by taking a drink because when Alex’s eyes lock with yours he sees the knowing in them. 

Instead of shying away from him though, you stare straight into his eyes and let your smirk show when you pull your drink out. You even raise your eyebrows at him entirely enthralled that he looks so much worse than you this morning. Looks like it’ll be cold showers for him for the foreseeable future.  

Alex couldn’t help but find you equally as amusing that morning at breakfast. The smile stayed on your face for the entirety of your meal and he could tell that seeing him so affected by the lack of your company had somehow boosted your confidence. So, pent up he may be, but he’d suffer in silence for as long as he needed to see that smug look on your face once more.  

Alex made sure his teasing continued throughout that day and the next. His flirting and lingering looks had you more on edge than usual thanks to the fact you felt entirely touch-starved, but you couldn’t deny that he had your heart racing. 

On the slopes he would sometimes wait for you if he wasn’t racing the boys or Flo down the mountain, to make sure you got down alright and there would be flirting when you’d stopped at the cafe’s that were half way down the slope. And he had you buy him the promised drinks that made you come on this holiday in the first place so you were happy keeping your end of that bargain. 

He really made you smile today when you had a bit of a fall on the slope. He watched you fall but he stopped right beside you and made sure you were okay before getting you back to your feet and he went down the slope as by your side as he could get. And when you both reached the bottom, he played into checking you over, being cheeky and saying he’d have to get the layers off you to make a complete and thorough check. Something which of course you rolled your eyes at but you couldn’t keep the smile from your face. 

When you walked out of your room each night dressed to go for dinner he told you how gorgeous you looked in your dress when he saw you, whether that be him stepping out of his room at the same time coincidentally or when you walked down with Katie and he was waiting for you with the other lads. Tonight was the latter and the way he looked you up and down made you feel all tingly inside.

And this evening at dinner he sat beside you and when you were waiting between courses, Alex rested his hand on your thigh, and it wasn’t at all to try and rile you, he seemed to just want to be affectionate. And Flo is right, why would you deny yourself that pleasure. 

You know you’re nowhere near a relationship, or possibly even heading into that direction. But this fun you’re having with him, it doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort from the small meaningful gestures that you’ve found that you’ve missed since your last relationship. 

So yes, you’ve adored the flirting, and matched his energy entirely by giving him back as much as good as you’ve got which grants you access to that cheeky smirk you’re starting to love being the cause of. You pretend like your heart doesn’t do something stupid when he’s affectionate and you’ll continue to act like you aren’t dying for him to touch you and kiss you and fuck you until you’re back home. 

And all of this is the reason why right now, you’re absolutely seething at yourself. Why you’re now at this bar, side-eyeing the man who’s had you at whit's end for the past few days wanting god to do you a favour and stop what you’re seeing. 

You hate it, you absolutely hate it. Seeing Alex’s hand on her hip, the way he smiles at her as she’s talking, and the way he’s making this random girl laugh. 

It’s been at least 15 minutes now since he went up to the bar to get himself another drink and left your group at the few standing tables in the corner which you’d all claimed. And when you looked over after 5 minutes of him disappearing, you saw him at the bar talking away with possibly the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. 

Intimidated isn’t even the word you could use to compare yourself to the stunning woman. She’s just everything you’re not. Clearly she's confident to speak to a stranger normally and not at 100 miles per hour because she’s nervous. She’s absolutely gorgeous with the complete opposite hair colour and style to yours, and her dress accentuates all of her features perfectly, leaving little to everyone’s imagination but she’s so gorgeous and fearlessly self assured, there’s no way you could possibly compete with a woman like her. 

Your chest sinks because it’s so easy for you to realise just how jealous of this woman you are. Not just because she holds Alex’s attention and you want that back for yourself, you’re just hit with that intimidatingly jealous feeling you’ve not experienced for such a long time. And it’s such a dirty feeling, you really judge yourself for it. 

Because you’re well aware you’re not in a relationship with the singer. Yes you’re fucking each other but he could easily call that off at any point, especially on holiday when you’ve established you’re not sleeping with each other and that will make your self esteem plummet and not to be dramatic but you’ll more than likely never put yourself out there again, and you think that is valid enough if that’s how this night ended.   

To make it worse, the ladies you’re with, your close friends can clearly see that you’re slipping into a foul mood. A few times you’ve been asked what’s wrong, and you’d have to tune back into conversations and plaster a fake smile on your face because you’ve got so stupidly in your head about all of this. 

It was only when Katie followed your gaze to the bar did she realise what was making you slip into a bad mood. On the down low, when Kirsten and Flo were having their own conversation, Katie said, “Y/N/N?” 

“Hmm?” You hum, tearing your eyes away from a laughing Alex and the stunning woman.  

You look at your best friend as she seriously asks, “What are you waiting for?” 

Immediately, you’re confused, “What?” 

Katie can’t help but laugh to herself a little as you’re being so blatantly obvious to her. And she can’t lie, she secretly loves seeing you jealous, because she’s never witnessed it before. And the mere fact you’re being silently possessive over Alex is all the more amusing to her. 

“Just go and get him.” She encourages you, seeing that you’re holding your glass of wine that little bit too tight.  

She understands that you’re probably that bit more jealous too because you are bordering on being a little bit drunk. Your tolerance is slightly better than hers and she knows that you’ve drank near enough the same amount so she’s very aware how your thoughts are probably being manipulated by the alcohol. 

“No, if he wants to play he can,” You tell her and put on a brave face, turning away from him now in an attempt to not shoot daggers at him with your eyes, “He just won’t be getting me again afterwards.”

And you mean it. You won’t get caught up in that STD mess waiting to happen. Condoms or not. It’s a no from you. 

You drink with the girls a bit more then, the other lads make you laugh too but after a few minutes you become all too aware again that there’s a missing piece. And it’s like a wound to the chest when you see he’s still there talking to that woman and they seem to be standing that little bit closer, smiles still on both of their faces. 

Something about it hurts, and not due to the fact he’s being flirted with. It mostly gets to you because he’s being so kind to someone he’s just met and you only got that side of him after a ten years and only when you called him out for his behaviour. It makes your heart sink a little, you just don’t know why he wasn’t ever this friendly toward you when you were first introduced, yet he can be so kind, smiley, and flirty to a complete stranger. 

Up until 6 months ago, Alex would barely hold a conversation with you and something about that always hurt. The effort you’d make only for it to go unreciprocated when he probably knew how much it took for you to not be socially awkward around him. It’s a blow to your chest and to your ego. 

And to make it worst, he’s flirting with this girl as if you haven’t been fucking each other for a month and he didn’t almost fuck you in the hot tub the other night. As if the bruises he left on your thighs aren’t still very prominent and he didn’t edge you, leaving you craving every little bit of him for the last two days. And now he’s flirting with someone that isn’t you. 

And you can’t even blame the woman for flirting with him. He looks impeccable this evening. He’s in a black suit with a black shirt and he looks incredible. Like you’d do just about anything for him to pull you aside in this darkened bar and for him to whisper filthy promises in your ear before his lips find yours and he takes your breath away all over again. 

But you’re not so lucky. And your mood worsens when you see the bartender come back with two drinks in his hands and he places them in front of the pair. But it’s when Alex gets his card out and seemingly pays for both does your heart drop. 

Has he just fucking bought her a drink?

You blink a few times and force yourself to look away. The feeling that’s settled in your stomach not being one that you want to ever be feeling. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion and you wish it wasn’t running through your veins right now so you try and breath through it, letting the thoughts pass you by as quickly as they come.  

The people that know you best though, can see you’ve sort of checked out from the conversations surrounding you, and you’re staring out of the window at the snow that’s beginning to gently fall. Your best friend knows it’s not the same zoned out as you were awestruck when you first arrived on this holiday though, it’s due to you being in your head because of the man at the bar. 

And it seems Katie isn’t the only one, because Flo asks Mrs Cook quietly, “Should I go tell him?”

Katie notes that she nods over towards the bar, but your best friend immediately shakes her head.  

“No,” She tells her, “Let him dig his own grave.”

Because after everything last year, she wants Alex to prove himself worthy of having her best friend. She knows you deserve something good, and despite being 99% sure that Alex is just being polite to a fan at the bar, she wants him to prove that he wouldn’t ruin this good thing that you both have going for the sake of another woman who could pass as a model.  

So Katie distracts you, getting another glass of wine down you is easy to do and she has you giggling with her and Flo again. 

While you adore your friends for their distraction tactics, Alex and the stunning woman linger in your mind, and you feel like you need a second to quieten those intrusive thoughts. So you head to the toilet in hopes to clear your head but when you hold the sink and look at your reflection the clarity that hits you is that you’re drunk and probably (most definitely) overreacting, and you just find yourself wanting to close your eyes. 

So that’s why when you make your way back to your friends, who Alex is still not with, you decide your night is done. 

“Guys, I’m going to head back.” You tell all of them, “The wine has gone to my head and I’m so tired after today.”

Each and every one of their faces fall and they all start a little bit of a commotion, shaking their heads and shout over each other drunkenly pleading with you not to go. But it’s a singer who is the one that complains the loudest. 

“Noooo come on, Y/N/N.” Miles throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as he says, “Party with us.”

You smile at him but there’s no way you’ll be giving in. You need your bed. And to get away from Alex and the stunning woman taking all of his attention at the bar. 

“Miles, you saw the fall I had earlier today,” You almost wince at the memory, “I’m knackered and just wanna get in bed so I’m good again tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you back.” Jamie offers but immediately you shake your head, having none of it. 

“No, you’re having a great time, stay out. Have fun.” You smile, giving him a look to say ‘do not put on your coat’ as you put on your own. 

You’ll be perfectly fine getting back by yourself, everywhere is lit well enough to make the 5 minute walk back feel safe. And you could certainly use the time to clear your head. 

So you just smirk, wrapping your coat around you and downing the last of your white wine. And you grin, “I'll see you all hungover for breakfast in the morning.”

They all laugh at your little joke, knowing it’ll more than likely come to fruition, before they pull you into hugs goodbye. Flo, you realise, gives the best hugs out in the group, and she holds you tightly as she whispers in your ear, “Are you sure?”

You don’t hesitate to nod, “Positive.” 

She pouts a little as you pull away from the hug but you give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her to have another drink for you which makes her giggle and she promises she will. And then the only person left over here you have to hug is your very drunk best friend, and Katie all but smothers you with her bear hug. 

God you adore your best friend so much. Or you do until she easily reads between the lines and questions your actions. 

“This isn’t to do with Alex, is it?” She asks, pouting like she’s both angry and upset, “Because you can’t let him spoil your fun.”

You hate that she knows you so well, but wanting to go back to your hotel room is only marginally to do with Alex at this point. You know if you drank anymore tonight you’d be worse for wear tomorrow and you don’t want to ruin this precious holiday by staying in your room wanting to throw up. 

“No, I'm just tired.” You lie, trying not to even think about the fact that Alex not really giving you any attention and flirting with another girl was what triggered your bad mood in the first place. You tell her, “I just wanna get some sleep.”

“Okay queen.” Katie nods before she pulls back and she looks into your eyes to seriously tell you, “Text me as soon as you get back to the hotel, okay?”

“I will.” You promise her and after she gives you another hug, you turn to leave. 

You avoid looking anywhere near the bar even though you have to pass it to leave, but you’re quick and you leave out of the side doors and make it down the stairs fairly quickly. The automatic doors expose you to the cold air quickly and you’re so thankful you chose your long, navy dress this evening, even if you were regretting the slit in it that comes up to just above your knee when the wind hits you.  

Thankfully, your ‘going out coat’ is a long one, coming down to just past your knees, and would retain most of your body heat, so as you walk towards the doors you start to slowly button it up. But your buttons aren’t cooperating, they won't go through the bloody buttonhole. Clearly nothing wants to go right for you this evening.

And you end up not paying attention to where you’re going as you walk out of the bar, you don’t realise that the smoking areas out front has gotten busier so you end up turning to head back to your hotel and you bump into someone at quite a little bit of force. Immediately, you end up almost slipping too, not realising that the ground has become slippy too thanks to the fresh snow landing and melting. But before you fall arse over tit, you're saved by your own victim. The poor man you bumped into.  

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You say as you grab onto his tattooed arm that stabled you. 

And it’s only when you’re sure you’re steady on your feet do you look at the exquisite man. A gasp almost leaves your mouth at just how attractive he is. The strong jawline, the short black hair, the sun kissed skin, and possibly the most stunning eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are such a gorgeous shade of blue they almost look purple, and God, you half wish you could stare into them all night.  

“No worries,” The man holding your arm says, and once he’s satisfied you can stand properly again, his eyes drop to take you in. 

It makes you feel like your heart is in your throat for the two seconds he checks you out, but under the stare of those gorgeous eyes, it feels like it lasts an age. You can’t help watching as a small smirk forms on his lips, clearly pleased with what he sees and when his eyes meet yours again, you feel like your knees could fall from under you again if he wasn’t still holding you up. He’s dream worthy.

His fingers move down your wrist and he gently comes to squeeze your hand as he smirks but endearingly says, “Careful darling.” 

Immediately, the pet name makes you flush, and under his gaze you feel like you’re vibrating somehow, and you realise just how badly you need to get yourself back to your hotel. So to not make a fool out of yourself again, you cut the situation short.

“Thank you.” You give him a gracious smile and a small nod of your head before turning towards your hotel and safely begin to rush off. 

In your peripherals, you see the two other men that the stunning man was accompanied by and you’re glad you didn’t interact with them too, because they look just as attractive as their friend. You’d surely crumble under their gazes and start awkwardly chatting their ears off so you’re pleased to get away from both them and that bar. 

At least this gives your drunk mind a quick distraction from wondering what Alex and that girl are currently up to. You try not to think about how cosy they might have got or if either of them have made a move. No, you’d rather think about your embarrassing encounter with a model worthy guy who then checked you out and you said thank you to him. 

Thank you? God, you’re so fucking stupid for saying thank you Y/N/N, that doesn’t even make sense. Thank you for me bumping into you and being so kind about it? What was the thank you for? Silly bitch. 

God you really need to get to sleep. Your brain is absolutely spinning. 

Instead you find yourself focussing on the crunch of snow under your boots, how you can see your breath in front of you. And the gentle light coming from the lampposts illuminates the snow that’s slowly falling from the sky and you can’t help but think that it’s so beautiful despite it being so cold. 

Finally you manage to do up the buttons of your coat and your hands are stuffed in your pockets as you carry on walking. But it’s only a few seconds later, you hear your name being shouted behind you. You think you’re hearing things so you don’t stop walking, but then you hear someone running behind you and a gentle call of, “Sweet.” As he begins to slow down. 

Alex is out of breath by the time he’s beside you, and a gentle hand on your arm stops you from walking. A mixture of emotions runs through you in that moment, happy that he’s not with that girl anymore is certainly one of them, but annoyance at him for him even flirting with someone else hits you all over again. 

And it just makes your mood worse, because you absolutely despise being jealous. You hate it. You hate the tightness in your chest and you hate the way you start to second guess everything. And you don’t think you should be second guessing if you’re good enough.  

But you keep all of that to yourself, not wanting to annoy Alex or appear jealous or be overbearing. You’re just drunk and you need to get over yourself. 

“Sweet.” Alex says a little out of breath, “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” You say more flatly than you meant to and turn to carry on walking to the hotel. 

You’d scorn yourself for it, but you’re glad Alex doesn’t pick up on your tone. He just follows after you, falling into step as he asks, “Why are you leaving so early?”

“It’s almost one Alex,” You tell him, “I’m tired.”

You’re certainly not telling him that he’s a part of the reason you’re leaving. Even if he has finally given someone else the time of day for a brief minute tonight.  

Trying not to focus on the mixed emotions cursing through you, you end up telling the singer, “You don’t have to walk me back, go back to the bar.”

“And let you walk back on your own at one in the morning?” Alex frowns down at you,  “I don’t think so.”

You shake your head slightly at that, knowing he’s just doing that because of the story you told him about how you don’t like to walk alone at night. But you don’t want him here solely because of that. “I don’t need your pity.”

“There’s no pity, I’m just not a dickhead, sweet.” Alex’s smile then turns into a smirk as he throws his arm around your shoulders and he pulls you against him, “Now let me keep you warm.”

Your chest feels lighter somehow at his actions, and it makes you feel all gooey and smiley inside. But your brain is telling you to keep a hard exterior after what you witnessed tonight, so you try and brush him off, “Al, I’m fine.”

But the singer is having none of it. He just holds you tighter teases, “You’re moody.” 

“I’m tired.” You correct him, even though you’re lying through your teeth. 

“With your little rule, I thought you would have been reserving more energy.” Alex smirks, not being able to pass on the opportunity to torture you that little bit more. 

You don’t mute your scoff at that, and decide that silence is what he deserves after that comment and him flirting with someone else all evening. And it hits you all over again how up until a few months ago you’d only get silence and sneers from him, but that woman at the bar instantly got smiles and flirting. It makes you want to push his arm off your shoulder and you fall silent again. 

It’s confusing. Wanting to scold him but then also lean into him and accept the joy the simple pleasure of him hugging you brings you. And you’re feeling it all at once. You don’t understand it and don’t really know how to process it. 

Sleep. You need sleep. 

With his free hand, Alex digs into his coat pocket and pulls out his gloves, noticing you’re shivering, “Here take these.” 

“Thank you.” You accept them quietly and graciously and don’t waste much time putting them on, even if they are too big for you. 

Alex smiles once you have them on, and he squeezes your shoulder that bit tighter as he grins, “They suit you.” 

“Bit big, but I'll take it.” You shrug a little, and give him a bit of a smile so you don’t look like a colossal bitch. It was a kind gesture after all. 

Alex grins back down, his eyes bright as he says with a knowing look, “Well, you know what they say about big hands, sweet.”

Holding your own smile back, you fake a roll of your eyes and look away from him, “You’re not funny.”

“What?” Alex asks, faking innocence but smirking, “Just big gloves, nothing untoward.” 

You share an amused look then, both looking into each other's eyes and knowing for certain that was not what he was meaning. In those few seconds though, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous he looks, with the snow falling down around him, a few flakes having found home in his hair and he just looks so pretty and happy. 

You always want to look at him and see that cheeky smile looking back down at you. It makes you feel all warm inside.  

But then that crude sense of humour has to go and ruin the moment. 

“Anyway,” He smirks, “You already know how big I am. I don't think I need to remind you just yet.”

The way your cheeks heat up immediately is almost as embarrassing as the way your gaze snaps away from his. You just try to act nonchalant about it, shaking your head, “Way to lower the tone.”

“I think it was your dirty mind that lowered the tone, sweet.” Alex laughs and he has you giggling along with him. 

It doesn’t take long to get back to the hotel, and you walk in a comfortable silence with your head finally not filled with everything to do with the bar. You just enjoy having his attention back, and that he keeps pulling you back into him, and rubbing the top of your arm in an effort to keep you warm. 

You expect the singer to walk you into the lobby and bid you goodnight there before he heads back out to your other friends. But he surprises you, stepping into the lift with you and even when you’re going up to your floor he keeps his arm around you like he doesn’t want to let you go.  

“Thank you for walking me back, you really didn’t have to.” You tell him after he walks you to your door and you get your keycard out of your pocket. 

Only when you look at him again does he tell you, “Stop thanking me for being a decent human being.”

You smile at him for a second there, and it is a truly grateful one. Despite everything tonight, you really are thankful he came back with you. If not for your safety, but then at least for your peace of mind about what he was up to when you left. Your chest fills with the hatred of the jealousy you’re feeling once more. 

But it’s like the man looking at you can somehow read your emotions. Because he once again flips them on their head when he takes you in again and sees how gorgeous you look in that navy dress and the way it hugs you. 

He seems a little breathless as he says, “You really do look incredible tonight by the way.” 

You look down at yourself, really not thinking you looked anything more than presentable tonight. But two men have checked you out this evening and seemed pleased with what they saw, and you know Alex well enough now to know that he doesn’t just say these things, he actually means them. 

“I- Thank you.” You stumble for a second, but gladly take the compliment. 

As you turn to open your door, Alex takes a step towards his, which makes you frown. He’s going to bed?

“You can go back out, you know?” You say before he even takes another step. 

You don’t really understand why he’d be going to his room when he could go back out and have a good time with either your friends or the stunning woman he was chatting to. Surely he didn’t just leave because you did?

Alex shrugs, and takes a step back towards you, “Don’t want to.”

“Why?” You can’t help but question, “Looked like you were having a good time.”

“Not that good, I wasn’t spending it with you.” Alex shamelessly flirts as he comes to stand right beside you again, hoping to see you get all flustered. 

He adores being the cause of it, and he even likes when you run your mouth back at him and flirt with him too. It makes him happier than he should admit to himself at this point in your little arrangement. But you shock him completely and don’t do either of those things.

No, instead Alex watches as you tense slightly and you become ridged. The smile falling from your face entirely. 

“You knew where I was.” You shrug, not knowing what more you could have done. It’s not like you could go up to him and demand his attention, or steal him away and he figures out why and he teases you for it.  

You just turn back towards your door and mumble under your breath as you put the card in, “Besides, it seems that you found her quite interesting.” 

This has Alex smirking, possibly the biggest he ever has. Not that you can see that smirk as you’re still fumbling about with your keycard and putting it in the door the wrong way. So it gives him a little time to compose himself enough that you won’t hate him when he gets you to look at him again. 

You’re jealous. Hence the mood, short replies, and the pout that was just seeping onto your face… It all makes perfect sense now. 

Alex tones his smirk down into a slight grin before he get your attention again, “Sweet?” 

“What?” You ask, just about managing to open your door before you turn back to him. 

And it’s only when you do, you see the way he’s looking at you. His amusement is clear to see, but he doesn’t say anything. He just takes a step close to you, and before you really know it his lips are on yours and he gently eases you backwards until your back is against the heavy door you’ve not opened more than an inch. 

It’s a sweet kiss, full of longing and care and words you’ve both yet to say. And the way he gently holds your waist, pulling you against him now, his arm running inside your coat and around your back so he can press you fully against him as his lips move in sync with yours. His hand on your jaw moves that bit higher, so his thumb can caress your cheek and you think this might be the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared.

It’s gentle and full of emotion, even when his tongue finds home with yours. It makes the both of you hot despite both of your lips softly moving together. Something about it runs deeper, like he’s trying to tell you something without explicitly coming out with it. 

His hold on your waist gets that bit tighter which has you melting into him. Unable to stop yourself, you also let out a tiny hum of bliss against his lips and you hold his coat in your fist that bit tighter. This is what you’ve been after all night. This is what you’ve been craving. Him and every last bit of him. 

Even when the kiss comes to its natural end, you wish it wasn’t finished. And you’re glad that it doesn’t seem to be. But the man who makes your heart skip a beat says something you really aren’t expecting. 

“I’m only interested in sleeping with you.” Alex tells you, before he leaves you with one last breathless kiss. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: What did you think?!?!? NRIACC bestiesssss!! How was it seeing Wheels again?! She's my multiverse I had to hahaha! But how bloody cute are Sweet and Alex, god I adore them so so much. Until next time besties x

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Deal Breaker [ TEASER ]

{ friends-to-lovers!kyle x gn reader ; on coming angst ; fluff ; tags to be added }

𝖺𝗇: 𝗂’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺. 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 (𝗆𝖺𝗑: 4) 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂’𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗈3 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗁𝗆 <3

Kyle laughs and you cuss internally at the sound of it, bouncing between each of your ribs to wholly engulf your internal organs with a warmth you want to scowl at because who the fuck is this man to be so perfect? He lets out a small huff as he looks down at you, eyebrows raised as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat, and his expression settles somewhere between pleased and amused. “You’re an endearing thing, love, but this is more a manner of helping a stray kitten than picking up a one night stand.” 

You scowl at that, crossing your arms as you gesture for him to lead the way as the cold air around you finally begins to register. Kyle’s gaze washes over you once again and then chances a glance at the house that you had been living in for the past four years. There’s a conclusion in his eyes but they leave little room to read the words between the slits of them as he takes a step back and begins to shrug his coat off. The intention is clear and some stubborn modicum of you bristles at it and the words fly from your tongue too quickly to note the self sabotage in their underlying tones. 

“Don’t blame me if you need a tetanus shot afterward.” 

“Is that right?” He asks quietly as he finally rests the wool and body warmed coat on your shoulder, hands resting there for but a beat before he is stepping up beside you. 

You hum again, tilting your chin up just slightly as you look ahead of you, beating down on the part of you that screams that you should be grateful, should be timid in your acceptance of this stranger’s kindness. “No stray animal fights clean, you should keep that in mind the next time you otp to pick one off of the street.”

[slycooperconfessions]

"I had no issues with the art style or animation of the movie teaser, the real deal-breaker for me was the fact that they recast Sly's voice. He just has such a distinctive sound and it's weird to hear it coming from someone else. I know like none of the original trilogy cast were common/big-name voice actors, but honestly that's where a lot of the charm came from to me."

Confessed by: Anonymous

(Same! It's instantly noticeable. ~Mod)

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin || KTH || Masterpost

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: Of Ruin

Status: complete - all chapters now posted

WC: 85k total, 16 chapters

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

Pairing: KTH x reader || platonic Namjoon x reader friendship!

Genre: supernatural!au royalty!au magic!au || s2l || angst fluff smut trifecta 

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

Warnings: language, casual drinking, lots of vampire warnings such as scary situations, vampires hunting/biting/feeding/killing, magic and magical fighting, magical world politics, eventual smut but not a lot dont expect too much, EXTREMELY slow burn even for me DONT SAY I DIDNT WARN YOU, chapters will have individual warnings

Author’s Note: Although the worlds, rules, characterizations, and plot are very extremely different, I have to say that I was inspired to write this after reading @/kth1fics Black Ravens series. Thank you to Maggie for being so gracious when I asked if she’d be okay with me trying a vamp!tae fic of my own.

Big thank you to @sailoryooons for the quick, thorough, and masterful beta job, and for letting me ask questions, shout and scream, and send endless screenshots as I worked on this for the last six months! Thank you also to @eoieopda, @jeonqkooks, and @yoongiphoria for accepting an ungodly number of screenshots as well. There would be no fic without y'all, I mean it!

Series Teaser:

He’s on you in an instant, so quickly you don’t see him move. Your back hits the wall behind you and you let out an audible grunt.

He sniffs at you, fangs displayed and ready. Your heart pounds desperately, and beneath his inhumanly strong hold, your muscles shake. Your body knows you are about to die, even if your mind still wants to lie to you about it.

He laves at a spot near the base of your neck, giving a happy hum as your pulse thunders against his tongue. You close your eyes, feeling your whole body shudder in terror.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, eyelids fluttering.

Chapter 1 || wc: 5.7k

Chapter 2 || wc: 5.9k

Chapter 3 || wc: 5.1k

Chapter 4 || wc: 5.5k

Chapter 5 || wc: 4.6

Chapter 6 || wc: 6k

Chapter 7 || wc: 5k

Chapter 8 || wc: 4.8k

Chapter 9 || wc: 4.3k

Chapter 10 || wc: 5.2k

Chapter 11 || wc: 4.7k

Chapter 12 || wc: 4.8k

Chapter 13 || wc: 6k

Chapter 14 || wc: 6.3k

Chapter 15 || wc: 5k

Chapter 16 || wc: 5.1k

[serpentdeath]

The Sky Breaker and Secrets of the Spires Teasers

[formulaorange]

2024 Spring Anime

Kaiju No. 8 This series started the same time as SpyxFamily and I've been waiting years for it to be animated. It's a series I was instantly hooked on. The animations in the teasers were incredibly sus but I'm glad to see it's pulled together. This is a must watch for this season. Noteworthy On-going Shows: Delicious in Dungeon - Episodes 13-24 A Character based comedic fantasy that honestly has me hooked. New Seasons:

Demon Slayer - Hashira Training Arc I can't believe we're already here. I think this will be one of the last 2 or 3 seasons of the show. This is one I'm not sure what to expect in terms of story but I'm looking forward to it regardless.

That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime - Season 3 One of the Og's is back baby. This is one of my all time favourite shows, one of the original fantasy/isekai series. This series gets better and better and I'm so hooked to each character. 100% biased opinion but if you haven't seen this, go check it out.

My Hero Academia - Season 7 This is one that I haven't caught up on the anime for so I'm not 100% where we are but I'm pretty sure it's about to get real dark. I think lots of people have put this show on the backburner or have dropped it entirely. But I really have to say we're starting to head into some of the peak of the series. It gets much darker and more serious and starts to shift from the original shonen high school style.

Additional New Seasons: Mushoku Tensei - Season 2 Cour 2 I won't lie, this arc honestly doesn't look very appealing to me. That said, I have faith in the writers and will be watching and updating if it picks up. Both of these shows from 2008 coming back were not on my bucket list but here we are: Spice and Wolf - Looks to be a re-make of the original series Black Butler - Public School Arc - New continuation of the og series Also: The Misfit of Demon King Academy II - Part 2 The Irregular at Magic High School - Season 3 Laid-Back Camp - Season 3 New Noteworthy Shows:

Wind Breaker A new series about a delinquent who moves to a school where it's all about being the strongest and beating each other up. Honestly it reminds me a little of Food wars but if it was actually about fighting instead of food lol. The animations look stellar, I'm actually pretty excited to check this one out. ( I'd also say it looks completely different to Tokyo Revengers so I wouldn't compare the two.)

Mission:Yozakura Family A newer shonen jump series about a kid who tries to integrate with a mismatched family of spies. Looks like a lot of fun and has a similar vibe to some old school SJ series.

Go! Go! Loser Ranger Why does this look so good. This series genuinely looks so cool, the animation look out of this world and the story looks killer. From what I can gather it's a guy who always plays the villain and is sick of his role. The story shows the heroes as villains and gives me a bit of Invincible vibes. (This is a Disney+ exclusive) The Fable I've heard that this is one of the most legendary comedies. I know there's a few live actions for it on Netflix but I haven't had a chance to check it out. I feel like the trailers don't seem to get anything across so this'll be one I'll follow up on.

Going through the extra shows is now the bane of my existence. I want to go back to before all the isekai light novels were being animated. After doing this I feel defeated that some of these look half-decent. Whisper Me a Love Song Wholesome girl's love series about figuring out what kind of love they feel for each other: 3 Episodes The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio 2 girls who's offline personalities are total opposites, their rivalry in a brutal industry. Looks like it could be a fun slice of life series: 3 Episodes Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night Looks like a really well done series about a group of girls forming an anonymous idol group: 3 Episodes

I Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince so I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magical Ability The animations actually look amazing from the trailer and this series could be cute: 1 Episode An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride I think this might be a guilty pleasure show. I like the idea of the awkward romance between these two. Likely wouldn't reccommend this for a normal watcher: 1 Episode Grandpa and Grandma Turn Young Again Animations and concept look fun: 1 Episode Notable OVA's: Code Geass: Roze of the Recapture A prequel to the original series. The animation looks just like the OG and I'm so stoked that this is coming out.

[tokyobunnyao3]

🎬 The End 🎬

The final chapter is here 🖤

Chapter 11 of my ongoing SatoSugu story, where Satoru spares Suguru's life, has been completed on A03

Here's a teaser for all you rule breakers & deviants who crave the whirlwind of utter devotion:

Suguru gasps and spits twice trying to rid the unwelcome taste in his mouth. He begins to wipe away the drool with a robe sleeve when a pause takes over, gaining him an awareness of his surroundings. Namely, the person who’s underneath him. The one who cradled him after the fall. The only person who attentively pulls his low ribbon-bound ponytail off his shoulder and away from his seasick face. A level of care not lost in the moment.

“Infinity makes you feel a little lightheaded the first time, doesn’t it?”

———

Thank you all for your support along the way. I’m absolutely over the moon that we surpassed 50k hits and I express enough how much I love waking up to new comments in the morning. I will be replying to every single one 😊 thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t wait to write more for you. Cheers!

———

If you haven't started yet, it's not too late!

Read For You, My Life, here!

Comments, likes, and reposts appreciated 🖤🎬🩸

[kitschun]

Need 4 Speed Navigation

Summary: The infamous Hak's Garage, owned by well-respected technical expert Ju Haknyeon and financed by the retired underground drag racer Lee Sangyeon. Hak's Garage is an inconspicuous daytime automotive garage that offers your average vehicle tuning and modification. It's during the nighttime when the place starts to let loose and becomes the go-to spot for anyone and everyone who has an inkling of fascination for cars.

Tags: Underground street racer!AU for The Boyz Last Updated: February 14, 2024

Navigation

Get to know the individuals behind the garage! The Skeleton Crew Circuit Breakers

Lee Sangyeon - [상연] Teaser - The Ultracheese (Coming Soon)

Jacob Bae - [제이콥] Teaser - Coming Soon

Kim Younghoon - [영훈] Teaser - Coming Soon

Lee Hyunjae - [현재] Teaser - Pacifier (Coming Soon)

Lee Juyeon - [주연] Teaser - Coming Soon

Kevin Moon - [케빈] Teaser - Coming Soon

Choi Chanhee - [뉴] Teaser - Coming Soon

Ji Changmin - [큐] Teaser - Coming Soon

Ju Haknyeon - [학년] Teaser - Driving, My Love! (Coming Soon)

Kim Sunwoo - [선우] Teaser - Coming Soon

Eric Sohn - [에릭] Teaser - Coming Soon

Others

A compilation of timestamps not necessarily meant to be precursors to the main storyline

Hak’s Garage — 12:45 AM Sunday